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diff --git a/old/13413-8.txt b/old/13413-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..57982fd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13413-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8309 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Party and Other Stories, +by Anton Chekhov + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Party and Other Stories + +Author: Anton Chekhov + +Release Date: September 9, 2004 [EBook #13413] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PARTY *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk + + + + +THE TALES OF CHEKHOV + +VOLUME 4 + +THE PARTY AND OTHER STORIES + +BY + +ANTON TCHEKHOV + +Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE PARTY +TERROR +A WOMAN'S KINGDOM +A PROBLEM +THE KISS +'ANNA ON THE NECK' +THE TEACHER OF LITERATURE +NOT WANTED +TYPHUS +A MISFORTUNE +A TRIFLE FROM LIFE + + + + +THE PARTY + +I + +AFTER the festive dinner with its eight courses and its endless +conversation, Olga Mihalovna, whose husband's name-day was being +celebrated, went out into the garden. The duty of smiling and talking +incessantly, the clatter of the crockery, the stupidity of the +servants, the long intervals between the courses, and the stays she +had put on to conceal her condition from the visitors, wearied her +to exhaustion. She longed to get away from the house, to sit in the +shade and rest her heart with thoughts of the baby which was to be +born to her in another two months. She was used to these thoughts +coming to her as she turned to the left out of the big avenue into +the narrow path. Here in the thick shade of the plums and cherry-trees +the dry branches used to scratch her neck and shoulders; a spider's +web would settle on her face, and there would rise up in her mind +the image of a little creature of undetermined sex and undefined +features, and it began to seem as though it were not the spider's +web that tickled her face and neck caressingly, but that little +creature. When, at the end of the path, a thin wicker hurdle came +into sight, and behind it podgy beehives with tiled roofs; when in +the motionless, stagnant air there came a smell of hay and honey, +and a soft buzzing of bees was audible, then the little creature +would take complete possession of Olga Mihalovna. She used to sit +down on a bench near the shanty woven of branches, and fall to +thinking. + +This time, too, she went on as far as the seat, sat down, and began +thinking; but instead of the little creature there rose up in her +imagination the figures of the grown-up people whom she had just +left. She felt dreadfully uneasy that she, the hostess, had deserted +her guests, and she remembered how her husband, Pyotr Dmitritch, +and her uncle, Nikolay Nikolaitch, had argued at dinner about trial +by jury, about the press, and about the higher education of women. +Her husband, as usual, argued in order to show off his Conservative +ideas before his visitors--and still more in order to disagree +with her uncle, whom he disliked. Her uncle contradicted him and +wrangled over every word he uttered, so as to show the company that +he, Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch, still retained his youthful freshness +of spirit and free-thinking in spite of his fifty-nine years. And +towards the end of dinner even Olga Mihalovna herself could not +resist taking part and unskilfully attempting to defend university +education for women--not that that education stood in need of her +defence, but simply because she wanted to annoy her husband, who +to her mind was unfair. The guests were wearied by this discussion, +but they all thought it necessary to take part in it, and talked a +great deal, although none of them took any interest in trial by +jury or the higher education of women. . . . + +Olga Mihalovna was sitting on the nearest side of the hurdle near +the shanty. The sun was hidden behind the clouds. The trees and the +air were overcast as before rain, but in spite of that it was hot +and stifling. The hay cut under the trees on the previous day was +lying ungathered, looking melancholy, with here and there a patch +of colour from the faded flowers, and from it came a heavy, sickly +scent. It was still. The other side of the hurdle there was a +monotonous hum of bees. . . . + +Suddenly she heard footsteps and voices; some one was coming along +the path towards the beehouse. + +"How stifling it is!" said a feminine voice. "What do you think-- +is it going to rain, or not?" + +"It is going to rain, my charmer, but not before night," a very +familiar male voice answered languidly. "There will be a good rain." + +Olga Mihalovna calculated that if she made haste to hide in the +shanty they would pass by without seeing her, and she would not +have to talk and to force herself to smile. She picked up her skirts, +bent down and crept into the shanty. At once she felt upon her face, +her neck, her arms, the hot air as heavy as steam. If it had not +been for the stuffiness and the close smell of rye bread, fennel, +and brushwood, which prevented her from breathing freely, it would +have been delightful to hide from her visitors here under the +thatched roof in the dusk, and to think about the little creature. +It was cosy and quiet. + +"What a pretty spot!" said a feminine voice. "Let us sit here, Pyotr +Dmitritch." + +Olga Mihalovna began peeping through a crack between two branches. +She saw her husband, Pyotr Dmitritch, and Lubotchka Sheller, a girl +of seventeen who had not long left boarding-school. Pyotr Dmitritch, +with his hat on the back of his head, languid and indolent from +having drunk so much at dinner, slouched by the hurdle and raked +the hay into a heap with his foot; Lubotchka, pink with the heat +and pretty as ever, stood with her hands behind her, watching the +lazy movements of his big handsome person. + +Olga Mihalovna knew that her husband was attractive to women, and +did not like to see him with them. There was nothing out of the way +in Pyotr Dmitritch's lazily raking together the hay in order to sit +down on it with Lubotchka and chatter to her of trivialities; there +was nothing out of the way, either, in pretty Lubotchka's looking +at him with her soft eyes; but yet Olga Mihalovna felt vexed with +her husband and frightened and pleased that she could listen to +them. + +"Sit down, enchantress," said Pyotr Dmitritch, sinking down on the +hay and stretching. "That's right. Come, tell me something." + +"What next! If I begin telling you anything you will go to sleep." + +"Me go to sleep? Allah forbid! Can I go to sleep while eyes like +yours are watching me?" + +In her husband's words, and in the fact that he was lolling with +his hat on the back of his head in the presence of a lady, there +was nothing out of the way either. He was spoilt by women, knew +that they found him attractive, and had adopted with them a special +tone which every one said suited him. With Lubotchka he behaved as +with all women. But, all the same, Olga Mihalovna was jealous. + +"Tell me, please," said Lubotchka, after a brief silence--"is it +true that you are to be tried for something?" + +"I? Yes, I am . . . numbered among the transgressors, my charmer." + +"But what for?" + +"For nothing, but just . . . it's chiefly a question of politics," +yawned Pyotr Dmitritch--"the antagonisms of Left and Right. I, +an obscurantist and reactionary, ventured in an official paper to +make use of an expression offensive in the eyes of such immaculate +Gladstones as Vladimir Pavlovitch Vladimirov and our local justice +of the peace--Kuzma Grigoritch Vostryakov." + +Pytor Dmitritch yawned again and went on: + +"And it is the way with us that you may express disapproval of the +sun or the moon, or anything you like, but God preserve you from +touching the Liberals! Heaven forbid! A Liberal is like the poisonous +dry fungus which covers you with a cloud of dust if you accidentally +touch it with your finger." + +"What happened to you?" + +"Nothing particular. The whole flare-up started from the merest +trifle. A teacher, a detestable person of clerical associations, +hands to Vostryakov a petition against a tavern-keeper, charging +him with insulting language and behaviour in a public place. +Everything showed that both the teacher and the tavern-keeper were +drunk as cobblers, and that they behaved equally badly. If there +had been insulting behaviour, the insult had anyway been mutual. +Vostryakov ought to have fined them both for a breach of the peace +and have turned them out of the court--that is all. But that's +not our way of doing things. With us what stands first is not the +person--not the fact itself, but the trade-mark and label. However +great a rascal a teacher may be, he is always in the right because +he is a teacher; a tavern-keeper is always in the wrong because he +is a tavern-keeper and a money-grubber. Vostryakov placed the +tavern-keeper under arrest. The man appealed to the Circuit Court; +the Circuit Court triumphantly upheld Vostryakov's decision. Well, +I stuck to my own opinion. . . . Got a little hot. . . . That was +all." + +Pyotr Dmitritch spoke calmly with careless irony. In reality the +trial that was hanging over him worried him extremely. Olga Mihalovna +remembered how on his return from the unfortunate session he had +tried to conceal from his household how troubled he was, and how +dissatisfied with himself. As an intelligent man he could not help +feeling that he had gone too far in expressing his disagreement; +and how much lying had been needful to conceal that feeling from +himself and from others! How many unnecessary conversations there +had been! How much grumbling and insincere laughter at what was not +laughable! When he learned that he was to be brought up before the +Court, he seemed at once harassed and depressed; he began to sleep +badly, stood oftener than ever at the windows, drumming on the panes +with his fingers. And he was ashamed to let his wife see that he +was worried, and it vexed her. + +"They say you have been in the province of Poltava?" Lubotchka +questioned him. + +"Yes," answered Pyotr Dmitritch. "I came back the day before +yesterday." + +"I expect it is very nice there." + +"Yes, it is very nice, very nice indeed; in fact, I arrived just +in time for the haymaking, I must tell you, and in the Ukraine the +haymaking is the most poetical moment of the year. Here we have a +big house, a big garden, a lot of servants, and a lot going on, so +that you don't see the haymaking; here it all passes unnoticed. +There, at the farm, I have a meadow of forty-five acres as flat as +my hand. You can see the men mowing from any window you stand at. +They are mowing in the meadow, they are mowing in the garden. There +are no visitors, no fuss nor hurry either, so that you can't help +seeing, feeling, hearing nothing but the haymaking. There is a smell +of hay indoors and outdoors. There's the sound of the scythes from +sunrise to sunset. Altogether Little Russia is a charming country. +Would you believe it, when I was drinking water from the rustic +wells and filthy vodka in some Jew's tavern, when on quiet evenings +the strains of the Little Russian fiddle and the tambourines reached +me, I was tempted by a fascinating idea--to settle down on my +place and live there as long as I chose, far away from Circuit +Courts, intellectual conversations, philosophizing women, long +dinners. . . ." + +Pyotr Dmitritch was not lying. He was unhappy and really longed to +rest. And he had visited his Poltava property simply to avoid seeing +his study, his servants, his acquaintances, and everything that +could remind him of his wounded vanity and his mistakes. + +Lubotchka suddenly jumped up and waved her hands about in horror. + +"Oh! A bee, a bee!" she shrieked. "It will sting!" + +"Nonsense; it won't sting," said Pyotr Dmitritch. "What a coward +you are!" + +"No, no, no," cried Lubotchka; and looking round at the bees, she +walked rapidly back. + +Pyotr Dmitritch walked away after her, looking at her with a softened +and melancholy face. He was probably thinking, as he looked at her, +of his farm, of solitude, and--who knows?--perhaps he was even +thinking how snug and cosy life would be at the farm if his wife +had been this girl--young, pure, fresh, not corrupted by higher +education, not with child. . . . + +When the sound of their footsteps had died away, Olga Mihalovna +came out of the shanty and turned towards the house. She wanted to +cry. She was by now acutely jealous. She could understand that her +husband was worried, dissatisfied with himself and ashamed, and +when people are ashamed they hold aloof, above all from those nearest +to them, and are unreserved with strangers; she could understand, +also, that she had nothing to fear from Lubotchka or from those +women who were now drinking coffee indoors. But everything in general +was terrible, incomprehensible, and it already seemed to Olga +Mihalovna that Pyotr Dmitritch only half belonged to her. + +"He has no right to do it!" she muttered, trying to formulate her +jealousy and her vexation with her husband. "He has no right at +all. I will tell him so plainly!" + +She made up her mind to find her husband at once and tell him all +about it: it was disgusting, absolutely disgusting, that he was +attractive to other women and sought their admiration as though it +were some heavenly manna; it was unjust and dishonourable that he +should give to others what belonged by right to his wife, that he +should hide his soul and his conscience from his wife to reveal +them to the first pretty face he came across. What harm had his +wife done him? How was she to blame? Long ago she had been sickened +by his lying: he was for ever posing, flirting, saying what he did +not think, and trying to seem different from what he was and what +he ought to be. Why this falsity? Was it seemly in a decent man? +If he lied he was demeaning himself and those to whom he lied, and +slighting what he lied about. Could he not understand that if he +swaggered and posed at the judicial table, or held forth at dinner +on the prerogatives of Government, that he, simply to provoke her +uncle, was showing thereby that he had not a ha'p'orth of respect +for the Court, or himself, or any of the people who were listening +and looking at him? + +Coming out into the big avenue, Olga Mihalovna assumed an expression +of face as though she had just gone away to look after some domestic +matter. In the verandah the gentlemen were drinking liqueur and +eating strawberries: one of them, the Examining Magistrate--a +stout elderly man, _blagueur_ and wit--must have been telling +some rather free anecdote, for, seeing their hostess, he suddenly +clapped his hands over his fat lips, rolled his eyes, and sat down. +Olga Mihalovna did not like the local officials. She did not care +for their clumsy, ceremonious wives, their scandal-mongering, their +frequent visits, their flattery of her husband, whom they all hated. +Now, when they were drinking, were replete with food and showed no +signs of going away, she felt their presence an agonizing weariness; +but not to appear impolite, she smiled cordially to the Magistrate, +and shook her finger at him. She walked across the dining-room and +drawing-room smiling, and looking as though she had gone to give +some order and make some arrangement. "God grant no one stops me," +she thought, but she forced herself to stop in the drawing-room to +listen from politeness to a young man who was sitting at the piano +playing: after standing for a minute, she cried, "Bravo, bravo, M. +Georges!" and clapping her hands twice, she went on. + +She found her husband in his study. He was sitting at the table, +thinking of something. His face looked stern, thoughtful, and guilty. +This was not the same Pyotr Dmitritch who had been arguing at dinner +and whom his guests knew, but a different man--wearied, feeling +guilty and dissatisfied with himself, whom nobody knew but his wife. +He must have come to the study to get cigarettes. Before him lay +an open cigarette-case full of cigarettes, and one of his hands was +in the table drawer; he had paused and sunk into thought as he was +taking the cigarettes. + +Olga Mihalovna felt sorry for him. It was as clear as day that this +man was harassed, could find no rest, and was perhaps struggling +with himself. Olga Mihalovna went up to the table in silence: wanting +to show that she had forgotten the argument at dinner and was not +cross, she shut the cigarette-case and put it in her husband's coat +pocket. + +"What should I say to him?" she wondered; "I shall say that lying +is like a forest--the further one goes into it the more difficult +it is to get out of it. I will say to him, 'You have been carried +away by the false part you are playing; you have insulted people +who were attached to you and have done you no harm. Go and apologize +to them, laugh at yourself, and you will feel better. And if you +want peace and solitude, let us go away together.'" + +Meeting his wife's gaze, Pyotr Dmitritch's face immediately assumed +the expression it had worn at dinner and in the garden--indifferent +and slightly ironical. He yawned and got up. + +"It's past five," he said, looking at his watch. "If our visitors +are merciful and leave us at eleven, even then we have another six +hours of it. It's a cheerful prospect, there's no denying!" + +And whistling something, he walked slowly out of the study with his +usual dignified gait. She could hear him with dignified firmness +cross the dining-room, then the drawing-room, laugh with dignified +assurance, and say to the young man who was playing, "Bravo! bravo!" +Soon his footsteps died away: he must have gone out into the garden. +And now not jealousy, not vexation, but real hatred of his footsteps, +his insincere laugh and voice, took possession of Olga Mihalovna. +She went to the window and looked out into the garden. Pyotr Dmitritch +was already walking along the avenue. Putting one hand in his pocket +and snapping the fingers of the other, he walked with confident +swinging steps, throwing his head back a little, and looking as +though he were very well satisfied with himself, with his dinner, +with his digestion, and with nature. . . . + +Two little schoolboys, the children of Madame Tchizhevsky, who had +only just arrived, made their appearance in the avenue, accompanied +by their tutor, a student wearing a white tunic and very narrow +trousers. When they reached Pyotr Dmitritch, the boys and the student +stopped, and probably congratulated him on his name-day. With a +graceful swing of his shoulders, he patted the children on their +cheeks, and carelessly offered the student his hand without looking +at him. The student must have praised the weather and compared it +with the climate of Petersburg, for Pyotr Dmitritch said in a loud +voice, in a tone as though he were not speaking to a guest, but to +an usher of the court or a witness: + +"What! It's cold in Petersburg? And here, my good sir, we have a +salubrious atmosphere and the fruits of the earth in abundance. Eh? +What?" + +And thrusting one hand in his pocket and snapping the fingers of +the other, he walked on. Till he had disappeared behind the nut +bushes, Olga Mihalovna watched the back of his head in perplexity. +How had this man of thirty-four come by the dignified deportment +of a general? How had he come by that impressive, elegant manner? +Where had he got that vibration of authority in his voice? Where +had he got these "what's," "to be sure's," and "my good sir's"? + +Olga Mihalovna remembered how in the first months of her marriage +she had felt dreary at home alone and had driven into the town to +the Circuit Court, at which Pyotr Dmitritch had sometimes presided +in place of her godfather, Count Alexey Petrovitch. In the presidential +chair, wearing his uniform and a chain on his breast, he was +completely changed. Stately gestures, a voice of thunder, "what," +"to be sure," careless tones. . . . Everything, all that was ordinary +and human, all that was individual and personal to himself that +Olga Mihalovna was accustomed to seeing in him at home, vanished +in grandeur, and in the presidential chair there sat not Pyotr +Dmitritch, but another man whom every one called Mr. President. +This consciousness of power prevented him from sitting still in his +place, and he seized every opportunity to ring his bell, to glance +sternly at the public, to shout. . . . Where had he got his short-sight +and his deafness when he suddenly began to see and hear with +difficulty, and, frowning majestically, insisted on people speaking +louder and coming closer to the table? From the height of his +grandeur he could hardly distinguish faces or sounds, so that it +seemed that if Olga Mihalovna herself had gone up to him he would +have shouted even to her, "Your name?" Peasant witnesses he addressed +familiarly, he shouted at the public so that his voice could be +heard even in the street, and behaved incredibly with the lawyers. +If a lawyer had to speak to him, Pyotr Dmitritch, turning a little +away from him, looked with half-closed eyes at the ceiling, meaning +to signify thereby that the lawyer was utterly superfluous and that +he was neither recognizing him nor listening to him; if a badly-dressed +lawyer spoke, Pyotr Dmitritch pricked up his ears and looked the +man up and down with a sarcastic, annihilating stare as though to +say: "Queer sort of lawyers nowadays!" + +"What do you mean by that?" he would interrupt. + +If a would-be eloquent lawyer mispronounced a foreign word, saying, +for instance, "factitious" instead of "fictitious," Pyotr Dmitritch +brightened up at once and asked, "What? How? Factitious? What does +that mean?" and then observed impressively: "Don't make use of words +you do not understand." And the lawyer, finishing his speech, would +walk away from the table, red and perspiring, while Pyotr Dmitritch; +with a self-satisfied smile, would lean back in his chair triumphant. +In his manner with the lawyers he imitated Count Alexey Petrovitch +a little, but when the latter said, for instance, "Counsel for the +defence, you keep quiet for a little!" it sounded paternally +good-natured and natural, while the same words in Pyotr Dmitritch's +mouth were rude and artificial. + +II + +There were sounds of applause. The young man had finished playing. +Olga Mihalovna remembered her guests and hurried into the drawing-room. + +"I have so enjoyed your playing," she said, going up to the piano. +"I have so enjoyed it. You have a wonderful talent! But don't you +think our piano's out of tune?" + +At that moment the two schoolboys walked into the room, accompanied +by the student. + +"My goodness! Mitya and Kolya," Olga Mihalovna drawled joyfully, +going to meet them: "How big they have grown! One would not know +you! But where is your mamma?" + +"I congratulate you on the name-day," the student began in a +free-and-easy tone, "and I wish you all happiness. Ekaterina +Andreyevna sends her congratulations and begs you to excuse her. +She is not very well." + +"How unkind of her! I have been expecting her all day. Is it long +since you left Petersburg?" Olga Mihalovna asked the student. "What +kind of weather have you there now?" And without waiting for an +answer, she looked cordially at the schoolboys and repeated: + +"How tall they have grown! It is not long since they used to come +with their nurse, and they are at school already! The old grow older +while the young grow up. . . . Have you had dinner?" + +"Oh, please don't trouble!" said the student. + +"Why, you have not had dinner?" + +"For goodness' sake, don't trouble!" + +"But I suppose you are hungry?" Olga Mihalovna said it in a harsh, +rude voice, with impatience and vexation--it escaped her unawares, +but at once she coughed, smiled, and flushed crimson. "How tall +they have grown!" she said softly. + +"Please don't trouble!" the student said once more. + +The student begged her not to trouble; the boys said nothing; +obviously all three of them were hungry. Olga Mihalovna took them +into the dining-room and told Vassily to lay the table. + +"How unkind of your mamma!" she said as she made them sit down. +"She has quite forgotten me. Unkind, unkind, unkind . . . you must +tell her so. What are you studying?" she asked the student. + +"Medicine." + +"Well, I have a weakness for doctors, only fancy. I am very sorry +my husband is not a doctor. What courage any one must have to perform +an operation or dissect a corpse, for instance! Horrible! Aren't +you frightened? I believe I should die of terror! Of course, you +drink vodka?" + +"Please don't trouble." + +"After your journey you must have something to drink. Though I am +a woman, even I drink sometimes. And Mitya and Kolya will drink +Malaga. It's not a strong wine; you need not be afraid of it. What +fine fellows they are, really! They'll be thinking of getting married +next." + +Olga Mihalovna talked without ceasing; she knew by experience that +when she had guests to entertain it was far easier and more comfortable +to talk than to listen. When you talk there is no need to strain +your attention to think of answers to questions, and to change your +expression of face. But unawares she asked the student a serious +question; the student began a lengthy speech and she was forced to +listen. The student knew that she had once been at the University, +and so tried to seem a serious person as he talked to her. + +"What subject are you studying?" she asked, forgetting that she had +already put that question to him. + +"Medicine." + +Olga Mihalovna now remembered that she had been away from the ladies +for a long while. + +"Yes? Then I suppose you are going to be a doctor?" she said, getting +up. "That's splendid. I am sorry I did not go in for medicine myself. +So you will finish your dinner here, gentlemen, and then come into +the garden. I will introduce you to the young ladies." + +She went out and glanced at her watch: it was five minutes to six. +And she wondered that the time had gone so slowly, and thought with +horror that there were six more hours before midnight, when the +party would break up. How could she get through those six hours? +What phrases could she utter? How should she behave to her husband? + +There was not a soul in the drawing-room or on the verandah. All +the guests were sauntering about the garden. + +"I shall have to suggest a walk in the birchwood before tea, or +else a row in the boats," thought Olga Mihalovna, hurrying to the +croquet ground, from which came the sounds of voices and laughter. + +"And sit the old people down to _vint_. . . ." She met Grigory the +footman coming from the croquet ground with empty bottles. + +"Where are the ladies?" she asked. + +"Among the raspberry-bushes. The master's there, too." + +"Oh, good heavens!" some one on the croquet lawn shouted with +exasperation. "I have told you a thousand times over! To know the +Bulgarians you must see them! You can't judge from the papers!" + +Either because of the outburst or for some other reason, Olga +Mihalovna was suddenly aware of a terrible weakness all over, +especially in her legs and in her shoulders. She felt she could not +bear to speak, to listen, or to move. + +"Grigory," she said faintly and with an effort, "when you have to +serve tea or anything, please don't appeal to me, don't ask me +anything, don't speak of anything. . . . Do it all yourself, and +. . . and don't make a noise with your feet, I entreat you. . . . I +can't, because . . ." + +Without finishing, she walked on towards the croquet lawn, but on +the way she thought of the ladies, and turned towards the +raspberry-bushes. The sky, the air, and the trees looked gloomy +again and threatened rain; it was hot and stifling. An immense flock +of crows, foreseeing a storm, flew cawing over the garden. The paths +were more overgrown, darker, and narrower as they got nearer the +kitchen garden. In one of them, buried in a thick tangle of wild +pear, crab-apple, sorrel, young oaks, and hopbine, clouds of tiny +black flies swarmed round Olga Mihalovna. She covered her face with +her hands and began forcing herself to think of the little creature +. . . . There floated through her imagination the figures of Grigory, +Mitya, Kolya, the faces of the peasants who had come in the morning +to present their congratulations. + +She heard footsteps, and she opened her eyes. Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch +was coming rapidly towards her. + +"It's you, dear? I am very glad . . ." he began, breathless. "A +couple of words. . . ." He mopped with his handkerchief his red +shaven chin, then suddenly stepped back a pace, flung up his hands +and opened his eyes wide. "My dear girl, how long is this going +on?" he said rapidly, spluttering. "I ask you: is there no limit +to it? I say nothing of the demoralizing effect of his martinet +views on all around him, of the way he insults all that is sacred +and best in me and in every honest thinking man--I will say nothing +about that, but he might at least behave decently! Why, he shouts, +he bellows, gives himself airs, poses as a sort of Bonaparte, does +not let one say a word. . . . I don't know what the devil's the +matter with him! These lordly gestures, this condescending tone; +and laughing like a general! Who is he, allow me to ask you? I ask +you, who is he? The husband of his wife, with a few paltry acres +and the rank of a titular who has had the luck to marry an heiress! +An upstart and a _junker_, like so many others! A type out of +Shtchedrin! Upon my word, it's either that he's suffering from +megalomania, or that old rat in his dotage, Count Alexey Petrovitch, +is right when he says that children and young people are a long +time growing up nowadays, and go on playing they are cabmen and +generals till they are forty!" + +"That's true, that's true," Olga Mihalovna assented. "Let me pass." + +"Now just consider: what is it leading to?" her uncle went on, +barring her way. "How will this playing at being a general and a +Conservative end? Already he has got into trouble! Yes, to stand +his trial! I am very glad of it! That's what his noise and shouting +has brought him to--to stand in the prisoner's dock. And it's not +as though it were the Circuit Court or something: it's the Central +Court! Nothing worse could be imagined, I think! And then he has +quarrelled with every one! He is celebrating his name-day, and look, +Vostryakov's not here, nor Yahontov, nor Vladimirov, nor Shevud, +nor the Count. . . . There is no one, I imagine, more Conservative +than Count Alexey Petrovitch, yet even he has not come. And he never +will come again. He won't come, you will see!" + +"My God! but what has it to do with me?" asked Olga Mihalovna. + +"What has it to do with you? Why, you are his wife! You are clever, +you have had a university education, and it was in your power to +make him an honest worker!" + +"At the lectures I went to they did not teach us how to influence +tiresome people. It seems as though I should have to apologize to +all of you for having been at the University," said Olga Mihalovna +sharply. "Listen, uncle. If people played the same scales over and +over again the whole day long in your hearing, you wouldn't be able +to sit still and listen, but would run away. I hear the same thing +over again for days together all the year round. You must have pity +on me at last." + +Her uncle pulled a very long face, then looked at her searchingly +and twisted his lips into a mocking smile. + +"So that's how it is," he piped in a voice like an old woman's. "I +beg your pardon!" he said, and made a ceremonious bow. "If you have +fallen under his influence yourself, and have abandoned your +convictions, you should have said so before. I beg your pardon!" + +"Yes, I have abandoned my convictions," she cried. "There; make the +most of it!" + +"I beg your pardon!" + +Her uncle for the last time made her a ceremonious bow, a little +on one side, and, shrinking into himself, made a scrape with his +foot and walked back. + +"Idiot!" thought Olga Mihalovna. "I hope he will go home." + +She found the ladies and the young people among the raspberries in +the kitchen garden. Some were eating raspberries; others, tired of +eating raspberries, were strolling about the strawberry beds or +foraging among the sugar-peas. A little on one side of the raspberry +bed, near a branching appletree propped up by posts which had been +pulled out of an old fence, Pyotr Dmitritch was mowing the grass. +His hair was falling over his forehead, his cravat was untied. His +watch-chain was hanging loose. Every step and every swing of the +scythe showed skill and the possession of immense physical strength. +Near him were standing Lubotchka and the daughters of a neighbour, +Colonel Bukryeev--two anaemic and unhealthily stout fair girls, +Natalya and Valentina, or, as they were always called, Nata and +Vata, both wearing white frocks and strikingly like each other. +Pyotr Dmitritch was teaching them to mow. + +"It's very simple," he said. "You have only to know how to hold the +scythe and not to get too hot over it--that is, not to use more +force than is necessary! Like this. . . . Wouldn't you like to try?" +he said, offering the scythe to Lubotchka. "Come!" + +Lubotchka took the scythe clumsily, blushed crimson, and laughed. + +"Don't be afraid, Lubov Alexandrovna!" cried Olga Mihalovna, loud +enough for all the ladies to hear that she was with them. "Don't +be afraid! You must learn! If you marry a Tolstoyan he will make +you mow." + +Lubotchka raised the scythe, but began laughing again, and, helpless +with laughter, let go of it at once. She was ashamed and pleased +at being talked to as though grown up. Nata, with a cold, serious +face, with no trace of smiling or shyness, took the scythe, swung +it and caught it in the grass; Vata, also without a smile, as cold +and serious as her sister, took the scythe, and silently thrust it +into the earth. Having done this, the two sisters linked arms and +walked in silence to the raspberries. + +Pyotr Dmitritch laughed and played about like a boy, and this +childish, frolicsome mood in which he became exceedingly good-natured +suited him far better than any other. Olga Mihalovna loved him when +he was like that. But his boyishness did not usually last long. It +did not this time; after playing with the scythe, he for some reason +thought it necessary to take a serious tone about it. + +"When I am mowing, I feel, do you know, healthier and more normal," +he said. "If I were forced to confine myself to an intellectual +life I believe I should go out of my mind. I feel that I was not +born to be a man of culture! I ought to mow, plough, sow, drive out +the horses." + +And Pyotr Dmitritch began a conversation with the ladies about the +advantages of physical labour, about culture, and then about the +pernicious effects of money, of property. Listening to her husband, +Olga Mihalovna, for some reason, thought of her dowry. + +"And the time will come, I suppose," she thought, "when he will not +forgive me for being richer than he. He is proud and vain. Maybe +he will hate me because he owes so much to me." + +She stopped near Colonel Bukryeev, who was eating raspberries and +also taking part in the conversation. + +"Come," he said, making room for Olga Mihalovna and Pyotr Dmitritch. +"The ripest are here. . . . And so, according to Proudhon," he went +on, raising his voice, "property is robbery. But I must confess I +don't believe in Proudhon, and don't consider him a philosopher. +The French are not authorities, to my thinking--God bless them!" + +"Well, as for Proudhons and Buckles and the rest of them, I am weak +in that department," said Pyotr Dmitritch. "For philosophy you must +apply to my wife. She has been at University lectures and knows all +your Schopenhauers and Proudhons by heart. . . ." + +Olga Mihalovna felt bored again. She walked again along a little +path by apple and pear trees, and looked again as though she was +on some very important errand. She reached the gardener's cottage. +In the doorway the gardener's wife, Varvara, was sitting together +with her four little children with big shaven heads. Varvara, too, +was with child and expecting to be confined on Elijah's Day. After +greeting her, Olga Mihalovna looked at her and the children in +silence and asked: + +"Well, how do you feel?" + +"Oh, all right. . . ." + +A silence followed. The two women seemed to understand each other +without words. + +"It's dreadful having one's first baby," said Olga Mihalovna after +a moment's thought. "I keep feeling as though I shall not get through +it, as though I shall die." + +"I fancied that, too, but here I am alive. One has all sorts of +fancies." + +Varvara, who was just going to have her fifth, looked down a little +on her mistress from the height of her experience and spoke in a +rather didactic tone, and Olga Mihalovna could not help feeling her +authority; she would have liked to have talked of her fears, of the +child, of her sensations, but she was afraid it might strike Varvara +as naïve and trivial. And she waited in silence for Varvara to say +something herself. + +"Olya, we are going indoors," Pyotr Dmitritch called from the +raspberries. + +Olga Mihalovna liked being silent, waiting and watching Varvara. +She would have been ready to stay like that till night without +speaking or having any duty to perform. But she had to go. She had +hardly left the cottage when Lubotchka, Nata, and Vata came running +to meet her. The sisters stopped short abruptly a couple of yards +away; Lubotchka ran right up to her and flung herself on her neck. + +"You dear, darling, precious," she said, kissing her face and her +neck. "Let us go and have tea on the island!" + +"On the island, on the island!" said the precisely similar Nata and +Vata, both at once, without a smile. + +"But it's going to rain, my dears." + +"It's not, it's not," cried Lubotchka with a woebegone face. "They've +all agreed to go. Dear! darling!" + +"They are all getting ready to have tea on the island," said Pyotr +Dmitritch, coming up. "See to arranging things. . . . We will all +go in the boats, and the samovars and all the rest of it must be +sent in the carriage with the servants." + +He walked beside his wife and gave her his arm. Olga Mihalovna had +a desire to say something disagreeable to her husband, something +biting, even about her dowry perhaps--the crueller the better, +she felt. She thought a little, and said: + +"Why is it Count Alexey Petrovitch hasn't come? What a pity!" + +"I am very glad he hasn't come," said Pyotr Dmitritch, lying. "I'm +sick to death of that old lunatic." + +"But yet before dinner you were expecting him so eagerly!" + +III + +Half an hour later all the guests were crowding on the bank near +the pile to which the boats were fastened. They were all talking +and laughing, and were in such excitement and commotion that they +could hardly get into the boats. Three boats were crammed with +passengers, while two stood empty. The keys for unfastening these +two boats had been somehow mislaid, and messengers were continually +running from the river to the house to look for them. Some said +Grigory had the keys, others that the bailiff had them, while others +suggested sending for a blacksmith and breaking the padlocks. And +all talked at once, interrupting and shouting one another down. +Pyotr Dmitritch paced impatiently to and fro on the bank, shouting: + +"What the devil's the meaning of it! The keys ought always to be +lying in the hall window! Who has dared to take them away? The +bailiff can get a boat of his own if he wants one!" + +At last the keys were found. Then it appeared that two oars were +missing. Again there was a great hullabaloo. Pyotr Dmitritch, who +was weary of pacing about the bank, jumped into a long, narrow boat +hollowed out of the trunk of a poplar, and, lurching from side to +side and almost falling into the water, pushed off from the bank. +The other boats followed him one after another, amid loud laughter +and the shrieks of the young ladies. + +The white cloudy sky, the trees on the riverside, the boats with +the people in them, and the oars, were reflected in the water as +in a mirror; under the boats, far away below in the bottomless +depths, was a second sky with the birds flying across it. The bank +on which the house and gardens stood was high, steep, and covered +with trees; on the other, which was sloping, stretched broad green +water-meadows with sheets of water glistening in them. The boats +had floated a hundred yards when, behind the mournfully drooping +willows on the sloping banks, huts and a herd of cows came into +sight; they began to hear songs, drunken shouts, and the strains +of a concertina. + +Here and there on the river fishing-boats were scattered about, +setting their nets for the night. In one of these boats was the +festive party, playing on home-made violins and violoncellos. + +Olga Mihalovna was sitting at the rudder; she was smiling affably +and talking a great deal to entertain her visitors, while she glanced +stealthily at her husband. He was ahead of them all, standing up +punting with one oar. The light sharp-nosed canoe, which all the +guests called the "death-trap"--while Pyotr Dmitritch, for some +reason, called it _Penderaklia_--flew along quickly; it had a +brisk, crafty expression, as though it hated its heavy occupant and +was looking out for a favourable moment to glide away from under +his feet. Olga Mihalovna kept looking at her husband, and she loathed +his good looks which attracted every one, the back of his head, his +attitude, his familiar manner with women; she hated all the women +sitting in the boat with her, was jealous, and at the same time was +trembling every minute in terror that the frail craft would upset +and cause an accident. + +"Take care, Pyotr!" she cried, while her heart fluttered with terror. +"Sit down! We believe in your courage without all that!" + +She was worried, too, by the people who were in the boat with her. +They were all ordinary good sort of people like thousands of others, +but now each one of them struck her as exceptional and evil. In +each one of them she saw nothing but falsity. "That young man," she +thought, "rowing, in gold-rimmed spectacles, with chestnut hair and +a nice-looking beard: he is a mamma's darling, rich, and well-fed, +and always fortunate, and every one considers him an honourable, +free-thinking, advanced man. It's not a year since he left the +University and came to live in the district, but he already talks +of himself as 'we active members of the Zemstvo.' But in another +year he will be bored like so many others and go off to Petersburg, +and to justify running away, will tell every one that the Zemstvos +are good-for-nothing, and that he has been deceived in them. While +from the other boat his young wife keeps her eyes fixed on him, and +believes that he is 'an active member of the Zemstvo,' just as in +a year she will believe that the Zemstvo is good-for-nothing. And +that stout, carefully shaven gentleman in the straw hat with the +broad ribbon, with an expensive cigar in his mouth: he is fond of +saying, 'It is time to put away dreams and set to work!' He has +Yorkshire pigs, Butler's hives, rape-seed, pine-apples, a dairy, a +cheese factory, Italian bookkeeping by double entry; but every +summer he sells his timber and mortgages part of his land to spend +the autumn with his mistress in the Crimea. And there's Uncle Nikolay +Nikolaitch, who has quarrelled with Pyotr Dmitritch, and yet for +some reason does not go home." + +Olga Mihalovna looked at the other boats, and there, too, she saw +only uninteresting, queer creatures, affected or stupid people. She +thought of all the people she knew in the district, and could not +remember one person of whom one could say or think anything good. +They all seemed to her mediocre, insipid, unintelligent, narrow, +false, heartless; they all said what they did not think, and did +what they did not want to. Dreariness and despair were stifling +her; she longed to leave off smiling, to leap up and cry out, "I +am sick of you," and then jump out and swim to the bank. + +"I say, let's take Pyotr Dmitritch in tow!" some one shouted. + +"In tow, in tow!" the others chimed in. "Olga Mihalovna, take your +husband in tow." + +To take him in tow, Olga Mihalovna, who was steering, had to seize +the right moment and to catch bold of his boat by the chain at the +beak. When she bent over to the chain Pyotr Dmitritch frowned and +looked at her in alarm. + +"I hope you won't catch cold," he said. + +"If you are uneasy about me and the child, why do you torment me?" +thought Olga Mihalovna. + +Pyotr Dmitritch acknowledged himself vanquished, and, not caring +to be towed, jumped from the _Penderaklia_ into the boat which was +overful already, and jumped so carelessly that the boat lurched +violently, and every one cried out in terror. + +"He did that to please the ladies," thought Olga Mihalovna; "he +knows it's charming." Her hands and feet began trembling, as she +supposed, from boredom, vexation from the strain of smiling and the +discomfort she felt all over her body. And to conceal this trembling +from her guests, she tried to talk more loudly, to laugh, to move. + +"If I suddenly begin to cry," she thought, "I shall say I have +toothache. . . ." + +But at last the boats reached the "Island of Good Hope," as they +called the peninsula formed by a bend in the river at an acute +angle, covered with a copse of old birch-trees, oaks, willows, and +poplars. The tables were already laid under the trees; the samovars +were smoking, and Vassily and Grigory, in their swallow-tails and +white knitted gloves, were already busy with the tea-things. On the +other bank, opposite the "Island of Good Hope," there stood the +carriages which had come with the provisions. The baskets and parcels +of provisions were carried across to the island in a little boat +like the _Penderaklia_. The footmen, the coachmen, and even the +peasant who was sitting in the boat, had the solemn expression +befitting a name-day such as one only sees in children and servants. + +While Olga Mihalovna was making the tea and pouring out the first +glasses, the visitors were busy with the liqueurs and sweet things. +Then there was the general commotion usual at picnics over drinking +tea, very wearisome and exhausting for the hostess. Grigory and +Vassily had hardly had time to take the glasses round before hands +were being stretched out to Olga Mihalovna with empty glasses. One +asked for no sugar, another wanted it stronger, another weak, a +fourth declined another glass. And all this Olga Mihalovna had to +remember, and then to call, "Ivan Petrovitch, is it without sugar +for you?" or, "Gentlemen, which of you wanted it weak?" But the +guest who had asked for weak tea, or no sugar, had by now forgotten +it, and, absorbed in agreeable conversation, took the first glass +that came. Depressed-looking figures wandered like shadows at a +little distance from the table, pretending to look for mushrooms +in the grass, or reading the labels on the boxes--these were those +for whom there were not glasses enough. "Have you had tea?" Olga +Mihalovna kept asking, and the guest so addressed begged her not +to trouble, and said, "I will wait," though it would have suited +her better for the visitors not to wait but to make haste. + +Some, absorbed in conversation, drank their tea slowly, keeping +their glasses for half an hour; others, especially some who had +drunk a good deal at dinner, would not leave the table, and kept +on drinking glass after glass, so that Olga Mihalovna scarcely had +time to fill them. One jocular young man sipped his tea through a +lump of sugar, and kept saying, "Sinful man that I am, I love to +indulge myself with the Chinese herb." He kept asking with a heavy +sigh: "Another tiny dish of tea more, if you please." He drank a +great deal, nibbled his sugar, and thought it all very amusing and +original, and imagined that he was doing a clever imitation of a +Russian merchant. None of them understood that these trifles were +agonizing to their hostess, and, indeed, it was hard to understand +it, as Olga Mihalovna went on all the time smiling affably and +talking nonsense. + +But she felt ill. . . . She was irritated by the crowd of people, +the laughter, the questions, the jocular young man, the footmen +harassed and run off their legs, the children who hung round the +table; she was irritated at Vata's being like Nata, at Kolya's being +like Mitya, so that one could not tell which of them had had tea +and which of them had not. She felt that her smile of forced +affability was passing into an expression of anger, and she felt +every minute as though she would burst into tears. + +"Rain, my friends," cried some one. + +Every one looked at the sky. + +"Yes, it really is rain . . ." Pyotr Dmitritch assented, and wiped +his cheek. + +Only a few drops were falling from the sky--the real rain had not +begun yet; but the company abandoned their tea and made haste to +get off. At first they all wanted to drive home in the carriages, +but changed their minds and made for the boats. On the pretext that +she had to hasten home to give directions about the supper, Olga +Mihalovna asked to be excused for leaving the others, and went home +in the carriage. + +When she got into the carriage, she first of all let her face rest +from smiling. With an angry face she drove through the village, and +with an angry face acknowledged the bows of the peasants she met. +When she got home, she went to the bedroom by the back way and lay +down on her husband's bed. + +"Merciful God!" she whispered. "What is all this hard labour for? +Why do all these people hustle each other here and pretend that +they are enjoying themselves? Why do I smile and lie? I don't +understand it." + +She heard steps and voices. The visitors had come back. + +"Let them come," thought Olga Mihalovna; "I shall lie a little +longer." + +But a maid-servant came and said: + +"Marya Grigoryevna is going, madam." + +Olga Mihalovna jumped up, tidied her hair and hurried out of the +room. + +"Marya Grigoryevna, what is the meaning of this?" she began in an +injured voice, going to meet Marya Grigoryevna. "Why are you in +such a hurry?" + +"I can't help it, darling! I've stayed too long as it is; my children +are expecting me home." + +"It's too bad of you! Why didn't you bring your children with you?" + +"If you will let me, dear, I will bring them on some ordinary day, +but to-day . . ." + +"Oh, please do," Olga Mihalovna interrupted; "I shall be delighted! +Your children are so sweet! Kiss them all for me. . . . But, really, +I am offended with you! I don't understand why you are in such a +hurry!" + +"I really must, I really must. . . . Good-bye, dear. Take care of +yourself. In your condition, you know . . ." + +And the ladies kissed each other. After seeing the departing guest +to her carriage, Olga Mihalovna went in to the ladies in the +drawing-room. There the lamps were already lighted and the gentlemen +were sitting down to cards. + +IV + +The party broke up after supper about a quarter past twelve. Seeing +her visitors off, Olga Mihalovna stood at the door and said: + +"You really ought to take a shawl! It's turning a little chilly. +Please God, you don't catch cold!" + +"Don't trouble, Olga Mihalovna," the ladies answered as they got +into the carriage. "Well, good-bye. Mind now, we are expecting you; +don't play us false!" + +"Wo-o-o!" the coachman checked the horses. + +"Ready, Denis! Good-bye, Olga Mihalovna!" + +"Kiss the children for me!" + +The carriage started and immediately disappeared into the darkness. +In the red circle of light cast by the lamp in the road, a fresh +pair or trio of impatient horses, and the silhouette of a coachman +with his hands held out stiffly before him, would come into view. +Again there began kisses, reproaches, and entreaties to come again +or to take a shawl. Pyotr Dmitritch kept running out and helping +the ladies into their carriages. + +"You go now by Efremovshtchina," he directed the coachman; "it's +nearer through Mankino, but the road is worse that way. You might +have an upset. . . . Good-bye, my charmer. _Mille_ compliments to +your artist!" + +"Good-bye, Olga Mihalovna, darling! Go indoors, or you will catch +cold! It's damp!" + +"Wo-o-o! you rascal!" + +"What horses have you got here?" Pyotr Dmitritch asked. + +"They were bought from Haidorov, in Lent," answered the coachman. + +"Capital horses. . . ." + +And Pyotr Dmitritch patted the trace horse on the haunch. + +"Well, you can start! God give you good luck!" + +The last visitor was gone at last; the red circle on the road +quivered, moved aside, contracted and went out, as Vassily carried +away the lamp from the entrance. On previous occasions when they +had seen off their visitors, Pyotr Dmitritch and Olga Mihalovna had +begun dancing about the drawing-room, facing each other, clapping +their hands and singing: "They've gone! They've gone!" But now Olga +Mihalovna was not equal to that. She went to her bedroom, undressed, +and got into bed. + +She fancied she would fall asleep at once and sleep soundly. Her +legs and her shoulders ached painfully, her head was heavy from the +strain of talking, and she was conscious, as before, of discomfort +all over her body. Covering her head over, she lay still for three +or four minutes, then peeped out from under the bed-clothes at the +lamp before the ikon, listened to the silence, and smiled. + +"It's nice, it's nice," she whispered, curling up her legs, which +felt as if they had grown longer from so much walking. "Sleep, sleep +. . . ." + +Her legs would not get into a comfortable position; she felt uneasy +all over, and she turned on the other side. A big fly blew buzzing +about the bedroom and thumped against the ceiling. She could hear, +too, Grigory and Vassily stepping cautiously about the drawing-room, +putting the chairs back in their places; it seemed to Olga Mihalovna +that she could not go to sleep, nor be comfortable till those sounds +were hushed. And again she turned over on the other side impatiently. + +She heard her husband's voice in the drawing-room. Some one must +be staying the night, as Pyotr Dmitritch was addressing some one +and speaking loudly: + +"I don't say that Count Alexey Petrovitch is an impostor. But he +can't help seeming to be one, because all of you gentlemen attempt +to see in him something different from what he really is. His +craziness is looked upon as originality, his familiar manners as +good-nature, and his complete absence of opinions as Conservatism. +Even granted that he is a Conservative of the stamp of '84, what +after all is Conservatism?" + +Pyotr Dmitritch, angry with Count Alexey Petrovitch, his visitors, +and himself, was relieving his heart. He abused both the Count and +his visitors, and in his vexation with himself was ready to speak +out and to hold forth upon anything. After seeing his guest to his +room, he walked up and down the drawing-room, walked through the +dining-room, down the corridor, then into his study, then again +went into the drawing-room, and came into the bedroom. Olga Mihalovna +was lying on her back, with the bed-clothes only to her waist (by +now she felt hot), and with an angry face, watched the fly that was +thumping against the ceiling. + +"Is some one staying the night?" she asked. + +"Yegorov." + +Pyotr Dmitritch undressed and got into his bed. + +Without speaking, he lighted a cigarette, and he, too, fell to +watching the fly. There was an uneasy and forbidding look in his +eyes. Olga Mihalovna looked at his handsome profile for five minutes +in silence. It seemed to her for some reason that if her husband +were suddenly to turn facing her, and to say, "Olga, I am unhappy," +she would cry or laugh, and she would be at ease. She fancied that +her legs were aching and her body was uncomfortable all over because +of the strain on her feelings. + +"Pyotr, what are you thinking of?" she said. + +"Oh, nothing . . ." her husband answered. + +"You have taken to having secrets from me of late: that's not right." + +"Why is it not right?" answered Pyotr Dmitritch drily and not at +once. "We all have our personal life, every one of us, and we are +bound to have our secrets." + +"Personal life, our secrets . . . that's all words! Understand you +are wounding me!" said Olga Mihalovna, sitting up in bed. "If you +have a load on your heart, why do you hide it from me? And why do +you find it more suitable to open your heart to women who are nothing +to you, instead of to your wife? I overheard your outpourings to +Lubotchka by the bee-house to-day." + +"Well, I congratulate you. I am glad you did overhear it." + +This meant "Leave me alone and let me think." Olga Mihalovna was +indignant. Vexation, hatred, and wrath, which had been accumulating +within her during the whole day, suddenly boiled over; she wanted +at once to speak out, to hurt her husband without putting it off +till to-morrow, to wound him, to punish him. . . . Making an effort +to control herself and not to scream, she said: + +"Let me tell you, then, that it's all loathsome, loathsome, loathsome! +I've been hating you all day; you see what you've done." + +Pyotr Dmitritch, too, got up and sat on the bed. + +"It's loathsome, loathsome, loathsome," Olga Mihalovna went on, +beginning to tremble all over. "There's no need to congratulate me; +you had better congratulate yourself! It's a shame, a disgrace. You +have wrapped yourself in lies till you are ashamed to be alone in +the room with your wife! You are a deceitful man! I see through you +and understand every step you take!" + +"Olya, I wish you would please warn me when you are out of humour. +Then I will sleep in the study." + +Saying this, Pyotr Dmitritch picked up his pillow and walked out +of the bedroom. Olga Mihalovna had not foreseen this. For some +minutes she remained silent with her mouth open, trembling all over +and looking at the door by which her husband had gone out, and +trying to understand what it meant. Was this one of the devices to +which deceitful people have recourse when they are in the wrong, +or was it a deliberate insult aimed at her pride? How was she to +take it? Olga Mihalovna remembered her cousin, a lively young +officer, who often used to tell her, laughing, that when "his spouse +nagged at him" at night, he usually picked up his pillow and went +whistling to spend the night in his study, leaving his wife in a +foolish and ridiculous position. This officer was married to a rich, +capricious, and foolish woman whom he did not respect but simply +put up with. + +Olga Mihalovna jumped out of bed. To her mind there was only one +thing left for her to do now; to dress with all possible haste and +to leave the house forever. The house was her own, but so much the +worse for Pyotr Dmitritch. Without pausing to consider whether this +was necessary or not, she went quickly to the study to inform her +husband of her intention ("Feminine logic!" flashed through her +mind), and to say something wounding and sarcastic at parting. . . . + +Pyotr Dmitritch was lying on the sofa and pretending to read a +newspaper. There was a candle burning on a chair near him. His face +could not be seen behind the newspaper. + +"Be so kind as to tell me what this means? I am asking you." + +"Be so kind . . ." Pyotr Dmitritch mimicked her, not showing his +face. "It's sickening, Olga! Upon my honour, I am exhausted and not +up to it. . . . Let us do our quarrelling to-morrow." + +"No, I understand you perfectly!" Olga Mihalovna went on. "You hate +me! Yes, yes! You hate me because I am richer than you! You will +never forgive me for that, and will always be lying to me!" ("Feminine +logic!" flashed through her mind again.) "You are laughing at me +now. . . . I am convinced, in fact, that you only married me in +order to have property qualifications and those wretched horses. . . . +Oh, I am miserable!" + +Pyotr Dmitritch dropped the newspaper and got up. The unexpected +insult overwhelmed him. With a childishly helpless smile he looked +desperately at his wife, and holding out his hands to her as though +to ward off blows, he said imploringly: + +"Olya!" + +And expecting her to say something else awful, he leaned back in +his chair, and his huge figure seemed as helplessly childish as his +smile. + +"Olya, how could you say it?" he whispered. + +Olga Mihalovna came to herself. She was suddenly aware of her +passionate love for this man, remembered that he was her husband, +Pyotr Dmitritch, without whom she could not live for a day, and who +loved her passionately, too. She burst into loud sobs that sounded +strange and unlike her, and ran back to her bedroom. + +She fell on the bed, and short hysterical sobs, choking her and +making her arms and legs twitch, filled the bedroom. Remembering +there was a visitor sleeping three or four rooms away, she buried +her head under the pillow to stifle her sobs, but the pillow rolled +on to the floor, and she almost fell on the floor herself when she +stooped to pick it up. She pulled the quilt up to her face, but her +hands would not obey her, but tore convulsively at everything she +clutched. + +She thought that everything was lost, that the falsehood she had +told to wound her husband had shattered her life into fragments. +Her husband would not forgive her. The insult she had hurled at him +was not one that could be effaced by any caresses, by any vows. . . . +How could she convince her husband that she did not believe +what she had said? + +"It's all over, it's all over!" she cried, not noticing that the +pillow had slipped on to the floor again. "For God's sake, for God's +sake!" + +Probably roused by her cries, the guest and the servants were now +awake; next day all the neighbourhood would know that she had been +in hysterics and would blame Pyotr Dmitritch. She made an effort +to restrain herself, but her sobs grew louder and louder every +minute. + +"For God's sake," she cried in a voice not like her own, and not +knowing why she cried it. "For God's sake!" + +She felt as though the bed were heaving under her and her feet were +entangled in the bed-clothes. Pyotr Dmitritch, in his dressing-gown, +with a candle in his hand, came into the bedroom. + +"Olya, hush!" he said. + +She raised herself, and kneeling up in bed, screwing up her eyes +at the light, articulated through her sobs: + +"Understand . . . understand! . . . ." + +She wanted to tell him that she was tired to death by the party, +by his falsity, by her own falsity, that it had all worked together, +but she could only articulate: + +"Understand . . . understand!" + +"Come, drink!" he said, handing her some water. + +She took the glass obediently and began drinking, but the water +splashed over and was spilt on her arms, her throat and knees. + +"I must look horribly unseemly," she thought. + +Pyotr Dmitritch put her back in bed without a word, and covered her +with the quilt, then he took the candle and went out. + +"For God's sake!" Olga Mihalovna cried again. "Pyotr, understand, +understand!" + +Suddenly something gripped her in the lower part of her body and +back with such violence that her wailing was cut short, and she bit +the pillow from the pain. But the pain let her go again at once, +and she began sobbing again. + +The maid came in, and arranging the quilt over her, asked in alarm: + +"Mistress, darling, what is the matter?" + +"Go out of the room," said Pyotr Dmitritch sternly, going up to the +bed. + +"Understand . . . understand! . . ." Olga Mihalovna began. + +"Olya, I entreat you, calm yourself," he said. "I did not mean to +hurt you. I would not have gone out of the room if I had known it +would have hurt you so much; I simply felt depressed. I tell you, +on my honour . . ." + +"Understand! . . . You were lying, I was lying. . . ." + +"I understand. . . . Come, come, that's enough! I understand," said +Pyotr Dmitritch tenderly, sitting down on her bed. "You said that +in anger; I quite understand. I swear to God I love you beyond +anything on earth, and when I married you I never once thought of +your being rich. I loved you immensely, and that's all . . . I +assure you. I have never been in want of money or felt the value +of it, and so I cannot feel the difference between your fortune and +mine. It always seemed to me we were equally well off. And that I +have been deceitful in little things, that . . . of course, is true. +My life has hitherto been arranged in such a frivolous way that it +has somehow been impossible to get on without paltry lying. It +weighs on me, too, now. . . . Let us leave off talking about it, +for goodness' sake!" + +Olga Mihalovna again felt in acute pain, and clutched her husband +by the sleeve. + +"I am in pain, in pain, in pain . . ." she said rapidly. "Oh, what +pain!" + +"Damnation take those visitors!" muttered Pyotr Dmitritch, getting +up. "You ought not to have gone to the island to-day!" he cried. +"What an idiot I was not to prevent you! Oh, my God!" + +He scratched his head in vexation, and, with a wave of his hand, +walked out of the room. + +Then he came into the room several times, sat down on the bed beside +her, and talked a great deal, sometimes tenderly, sometimes angrily, +but she hardly heard him. Her sobs were continually interrupted by +fearful attacks of pain, and each time the pain was more acute and +prolonged. At first she held her breath and bit the pillow during +the pain, but then she began screaming on an unseemly piercing note. +Once seeing her husband near her, she remembered that she had +insulted him, and without pausing to think whether it were really +Pyotr Dmitritch or whether she were in delirium, clutched his hand +in both hers and began kissing it. + +"You were lying, I was lying . . ." she began justifying herself. +"Understand, understand. . . . They have exhausted me, driven me +out of all patience." + +"Olya, we are not alone," said Pyotr Dmitritch. + +Olga Mihalovna raised her head and saw Varvara, who was kneeling +by the chest of drawers and pulling out the bottom drawer. The top +drawers were already open. Then Varvara got up, red from the strained +position, and with a cold, solemn face began trying to unlock a +box. + +"Marya, I can't unlock it!" she said in a whisper. "You unlock it, +won't you?" + +Marya, the maid, was digging a candle end out of the candlestick +with a pair of scissors, so as to put in a new candle; she went up +to Varvara and helped her to unlock the box. + +"There should be nothing locked . . ." whispered Varvara. "Unlock +this basket, too, my good girl. Master," she said, "you should send +to Father Mihail to unlock the holy gates! You must!" + +"Do what you like," said Pyotr Dmitritch, breathing hard, "only, +for God's sake, make haste and fetch the doctor or the midwife! Has +Vassily gone? Send some one else. Send your husband!" + +"It's the birth," Olga Mihalovna thought. "Varvara," she moaned, +"but he won't be born alive!" + +"It's all right, it's all right, mistress," whispered Varvara. +"Please God, he will be alive! he will be alive!" + +When Olga Mihalovna came to herself again after a pain she was no +longer sobbing nor tossing from side to side, but moaning. She could +not refrain from moaning even in the intervals between the pains. +The candles were still burning, but the morning light was coming +through the blinds. It was probably about five o'clock in the +morning. At the round table there was sitting some unknown woman +with a very discreet air, wearing a white apron. From her whole +appearance it was evident she had been sitting there a long time. +Olga Mihalovna guessed that she was the midwife. + +"Will it soon be over?" she asked, and in her voice she heard a +peculiar and unfamiliar note which had never been there before. "I +must be dying in childbirth," she thought. + +Pyotr Dmitritch came cautiously into the bedroom, dressed for the +day, and stood at the window with his back to his wife. He lifted +the blind and looked out of window. + +"What rain!" he said. + +"What time is it?" asked Olga Mihalovna, in order to hear the +unfamiliar note in her voice again. + +"A quarter to six," answered the midwife. + +"And what if I really am dying?" thought Olga Mihalovna, looking +at her husband's head and the window-panes on which the rain was +beating. "How will he live without me? With whom will he have tea +and dinner, talk in the evenings, sleep?" + +And he seemed to her like a forlorn child; she felt sorry for him +and wanted to say something nice, caressing and consolatory. She +remembered how in the spring he had meant to buy himself some +harriers, and she, thinking it a cruel and dangerous sport, had +prevented him from doing it. + +"Pyotr, buy yourself harriers," she moaned. + +He dropped the blind and went up to the bed, and would have said +something; but at that moment the pain came back, and Olga Mihalovna +uttered an unseemly, piercing scream. + +The pain and the constant screaming and moaning stupefied her. She +heard, saw, and sometimes spoke, but hardly understood anything, +and was only conscious that she was in pain or was just going to +be in pain. It seemed to her that the nameday party had been long, +long ago--not yesterday, but a year ago perhaps; and that her new +life of agony had lasted longer than her childhood, her school-days, +her time at the University, and her marriage, and would go on for +a long, long time, endlessly. She saw them bring tea to the midwife, +and summon her at midday to lunch and afterwards to dinner; she saw +Pyotr Dmitritch grow used to coming in, standing for long intervals +by the window, and going out again; saw strange men, the maid, +Varvara, come in as though they were at home. . . . Varvara said +nothing but, "He will, he will," and was angry when any one closed +the drawers and the chest. Olga Mihalovna saw the light change in +the room and in the windows: at one time it was twilight, then thick +like fog, then bright daylight as it had been at dinner-time the +day before, then again twilight . . . and each of these changes +lasted as long as her childhood, her school-days, her life at the +University. . . . + +In the evening two doctors--one bony, bald, with a big red beard; +the other with a swarthy Jewish face and cheap spectacles--performed +some sort of operation on Olga Mihalovna. To these unknown men +touching her body she felt utterly indifferent. By now she had no +feeling of shame, no will, and any one might do what he would with +her. If any one had rushed at her with a knife, or had insulted +Pyotr Dmitritch, or had robbed her of her right to the little +creature, she would not have said a word. + +They gave her chloroform during the operation. When she came to +again, the pain was still there and insufferable. It was night. And +Olga Mihalovna remembered that there had been just such a night +with the stillness, the lamp, with the midwife sitting motionless +by the bed, with the drawers of the chest pulled out, with Pyotr +Dmitritch standing by the window, but some time very, very long +ago. . . . + +V + +"I am not dead . . ." thought Olga Mihalovna when she began to +understand her surroundings again, and when the pain was over. + +A bright summer day looked in at the widely open windows; in the +garden below the windows, the sparrows and the magpies never ceased +chattering for one instant. + +The drawers were shut now, her husband's bed had been made. There +was no sign of the midwife or of the maid, or of Varvara in the +room, only Pyotr Dmitritch was standing, as before, motionless by +the window looking into the garden. There was no sound of a child's +crying, no one was congratulating her or rejoicing, it was evident +that the little creature had not been born alive. + +"Pyotr!" + +Olga Mihalovna called to her husband. + +Pyotr Dmitritch looked round. It seemed as though a long time must +have passed since the last guest had departed and Olga Mihalovna +had insulted her husband, for Pyotr Dmitritch was perceptibly thinner +and hollow-eyed. + +"What is it?" he asked, coming up to the bed. + +He looked away, moved his lips and smiled with childlike helplessness. + +"Is it all over?" asked Olga Mihalovna. + +Pyotr Dmitritch tried to make some answer, but his lips quivered +and his mouth worked like a toothless old man's, like Uncle Nikolay +Nikolaitch's. + +"Olya," he said, wringing his hands; big tears suddenly dropping +from his eyes. "Olya, I don't care about your property qualification, +nor the Circuit Courts . . ." (he gave a sob) "nor particular views, +nor those visitors, nor your fortune. . . . I don't care about +anything! Why didn't we take care of our child? Oh, it's no good +talking!" + +With a despairing gesture he went out of the bedroom. + +But nothing mattered to Olga Mihalovna now, there was a mistiness +in her brain from the chloroform, an emptiness in her soul. . . . +The dull indifference to life which had overcome her when the two +doctors were performing the operation still had possession of her. + + +TERROR + +My Friend's Story + +DMITRI PETROVITCH SILIN had taken his degree and entered the +government service in Petersburg, but at thirty he gave up his post +and went in for agriculture. His farming was fairly successful, and +yet it always seemed to me that he was not in his proper place, and +that he would do well to go back to Petersburg. When sunburnt, grey +with dust, exhausted with toil, he met me near the gates or at the +entrance, and then at supper struggled with sleepiness and his wife +took him off to bed as though he were a baby; or when, overcoming +his sleepiness, he began in his soft, cordial, almost imploring +voice, to talk about his really excellent ideas, I saw him not as +a farmer nor an agriculturist, but only as a worried and exhausted +man, and it was clear to me that he did not really care for farming, +but that all he wanted was for the day to be over and "Thank God +for it." + +I liked to be with him, and I used to stay on his farm for two or +three days at a time. I liked his house, and his park, and his big +fruit garden, and the river--and his philosophy, which was clear, +though rather spiritless and rhetorical. I suppose I was fond of +him on his own account, though I can't say that for certain, as I +have not up to now succeeded in analysing my feelings at that time. +He was an intelligent, kind-hearted, genuine man, and not a bore, +but I remember that when he confided to me his most treasured secrets +and spoke of our relation to each other as friendship, it disturbed +me unpleasantly, and I was conscious of awkwardness. In his affection +for me there was something inappropriate, tiresome, and I should +have greatly preferred commonplace friendly relations. + +The fact is that I was extremely attracted by his wife, Marya +Sergeyevna. I was not in love with her, but I was attracted by her +face, her eyes, her voice, her walk. I missed her when I did not +see her for a long time, and my imagination pictured no one at that +time so eagerly as that young, beautiful, elegant woman. I had no +definite designs in regard to her, and did not dream of anything +of the sort, yet for some reason, whenever we were left alone, I +remembered that her husband looked upon me as his friend, and I +felt awkward. When she played my favourite pieces on the piano or +told me something interesting, I listened with pleasure, and yet +at the same time for some reason the reflection that she loved her +husband, that he was my friend, and that she herself looked upon +me as his friend, obtruded themselves upon me, my spirits flagged, +and I became listless, awkward, and dull. She noticed this change +and would usually say: + +"You are dull without your friend. We must send out to the fields +for him." + +And when Dmitri Petrovitch came in, she would say: + +"Well, here is your friend now. Rejoice." + +So passed a year and a half. + +It somehow happened one July Sunday that Dmitri Petrovitch and I, +having nothing to do, drove to the big village of Klushino to buy +things for supper. While we were going from one shop to another the +sun set and the evening came on--the evening which I shall probably +never forget in my life. After buying cheese that smelt like soap, +and petrified sausages that smelt of tar, we went to the tavern to +ask whether they had any beer. Our coachman went off to the blacksmith +to get our horses shod, and we told him we would wait for him near +the church. We walked, talked, laughed over our purchases, while a +man who was known in the district by a very strange nickname, "Forty +Martyrs," followed us all the while in silence with a mysterious +air like a detective. This Forty Martyrs was no other than Gavril +Syeverov, or more simply Gavryushka, who had been for a short time +in my service as a footman and had been dismissed by me for +drunkenness. He had been in Dmitri Petrovitch's service, too, and +by him had been dismissed for the same vice. He was an inveterate +drunkard, and indeed his whole life was as drunk and disorderly as +himself. His father had been a priest and his mother of noble rank, +so by birth he belonged to the privileged class; but however carefully +I scrutinized his exhausted, respectful, and always perspiring face, +his red beard now turning grey, his pitifully torn reefer jacket +and his red shirt, I could not discover in him the faintest trace +of anything we associate with privilege. He spoke of himself as a +man of education, and used to say that he had been in a clerical +school, but had not finished his studies there, as he had been +expelled for smoking; then he had sung in the bishop's choir and +lived for two years in a monastery, from which he was also expelled, +but this time not for smoking but for "his weakness." He had walked +all over two provinces, had presented petitions to the Consistory, +and to various government offices, and had been four times on his +trial. At last, being stranded in our district, he had served as a +footman, as a forester, as a kennelman, as a sexton, had married a +cook who was a widow and rather a loose character, and had so +hopelessly sunk into a menial position, and had grown so used to +filth and dirt, that he even spoke of his privileged origin with a +certain scepticism, as of some myth. At the time I am describing, +he was hanging about without a job, calling himself a carrier and +a huntsman, and his wife had disappeared and made no sign. + +From the tavern we went to the church and sat in the porch, waiting +for the coachman. Forty Martyrs stood a little way off and put his +hand before his mouth in order to cough in it respectfully if need +be. By now it was dark; there was a strong smell of evening dampness, +and the moon was on the point of rising. There were only two clouds +in the clear starry sky exactly over our heads: one big one and one +smaller; alone in the sky they were racing after one another like +mother and child, in the direction where the sunset was glowing. + +"What a glorious day!" said Dmitri Petrovitch. + +"In the extreme . . ." Forty Martyrs assented, and he coughed +respectfully into his hand. "How was it, Dmitri Petrovitch, you +thought to visit these parts?" he asked in an ingratiating voice, +evidently anxious to get up a conversation. + +Dmitri Petrovitch made no answer. Forty Martyrs heaved a deep sigh +and said softly, not looking at us: + +"I suffer solely through a cause to which I must answer to Almighty +God. No doubt about it, I am a hopeless and incompetent man; but +believe me, on my conscience, I am without a crust of bread and +worse off than a dog. . . . Forgive me, Dmitri Petrovitch." + +Silin was not listening, but sat musing with his head propped on +his fists. The church stood at the end of the street on the high +river-bank, and through the trellis gate of the enclosure we could +see the river, the water-meadows on the near side of it, and the +crimson glare of a camp fire about which black figures of men and +horses were moving. And beyond the fire, further away, there were +other lights, where there was a little village. They were singing +there. On the river, and here and there on the meadows, a mist was +rising. High narrow coils of mist, thick and white as milk, were +trailing over the river, hiding the reflection of the stars and +hovering over the willows. Every minute they changed their form, +and it seemed as though some were embracing, others were bowing, +others lifting up their arms to heaven with wide sleeves like +priests, as though they were praying. . . . Probably they reminded +Dmitri Petrovitch of ghosts and of the dead, for he turned facing +me and asked with a mournful smile: + +"Tell me, my dear fellow, why is it that when we want to tell some +terrible, mysterious, and fantastic story, we draw our material, +not from life, but invariably from the world of ghosts and of the +shadows beyond the grave." + +"We are frightened of what we don't understand." + +"And do you understand life? Tell me: do you understand life better +than the world beyond the grave?" + +Dmitri Petrovitch was sitting quite close to me, so that I felt his +breath upon my cheek. In the evening twilight his pale, lean face +seemed paler than ever and his dark beard was black as soot. His +eyes were sad, truthful, and a little frightened, as though he were +about to tell me something horrible. He looked into my eyes and +went on in his habitual imploring voice: + +"Our life and the life beyond the grave are equally incomprehensible +and horrible. If any one is afraid of ghosts he ought to be afraid, +too, of me, and of those lights and of the sky, seeing that, if you +come to reflect, all that is no less fantastic and beyond our grasp +than apparitions from the other world. Prince Hamlet did not kill +himself because he was afraid of the visions that might haunt his +dreams after death. I like that famous soliloquy of his, but, to +be candid, it never touched my soul. I will confess to you as a +friend that in moments of depression I have sometimes pictured to +myself the hour of my death. My fancy invented thousands of the +gloomiest visions, and I have succeeded in working myself up to an +agonizing exaltation, to a state of nightmare, and I assure you +that that did not seem to me more terrible than reality. What I +mean is, apparitions are terrible, but life is terrible, too. I +don't understand life and I am afraid of it, my dear boy; I don't +know. Perhaps I am a morbid person, unhinged. It seems to a sound, +healthy man that he understands everything he sees and hears, but +that 'seeming' is lost to me, and from day to day I am poisoning +myself with terror. There is a disease, the fear of open spaces, +but my disease is the fear of life. When I lie on the grass and +watch a little beetle which was born yesterday and understands +nothing, it seems to me that its life consists of nothing else but +fear, and in it I see myself." + +"What is it exactly you are frightened of?" I asked. + +"I am afraid of everything. I am not by nature a profound thinker, +and I take little interest in such questions as the life beyond the +grave, the destiny of humanity, and, in fact, I am rarely carried +away to the heights. What chiefly frightens me is the common routine +of life from which none of us can escape. I am incapable of +distinguishing what is true and what is false in my actions, and +they worry me. I recognize that education and the conditions of +life have imprisoned me in a narrow circle of falsity, that my whole +life is nothing else than a daily effort to deceive myself and other +people, and to avoid noticing it; and I am frightened at the thought +that to the day of my death I shall not escape from this falsity. +To-day I do something and to-morrow I do not understand why I did +it. I entered the service in Petersburg and took fright; I came +here to work on the land, and here, too, I am frightened. . . . I +see that we know very little and so make mistakes every day. We are +unjust, we slander one another and spoil each other's lives, we +waste all our powers on trash which we do not need and which hinders +us from living; and that frightens me, because I don't understand +why and for whom it is necessary. I don't understand men, my dear +fellow, and I am afraid of them. It frightens me to look at the +peasants, and I don't know for what higher objects they are suffering +and what they are living for. If life is an enjoyment, then they +are unnecessary, superfluous people; if the object and meaning of +life is to be found in poverty and unending, hopeless ignorance, I +can't understand for whom and what this torture is necessary. I +understand no one and nothing. Kindly try to understand this specimen, +for instance," said Dmitri Petrovitch, pointing to Forty Martyrs. +"Think of him!" + +Noticing that we were looking at him, Forty Martyrs coughed +deferentially into his fist and said: + +"I was always a faithful servant with good masters, but the great +trouble has been spirituous liquor. If a poor fellow like me were +shown consideration and given a place, I would kiss the ikon. My +word's my bond." + +The sexton walked by, looked at us in amazement, and began pulling +the rope. The bell, abruptly breaking upon the stillness of the +evening, struck ten with a slow and prolonged note. + +"It's ten o'clock, though," said Dmitri Petrovitch. "It's time we +were going. Yes, my dear fellow," he sighed, "if only you knew how +afraid I am of my ordinary everyday thoughts, in which one would +have thought there should be nothing dreadful. To prevent myself +thinking I distract my mind with work and try to tire myself out +that I may sleep sound at night. Children, a wife--all that seems +ordinary with other people; but how that weighs upon me, my dear +fellow!" + +He rubbed his face with his hands, cleared his throat, and laughed. + +"If I could only tell you how I have played the fool in my life!" +he said. "They all tell me that I have a sweet wife, charming +children, and that I am a good husband and father. They think I am +very happy and envy me. But since it has come to that, I will tell +you in secret: my happy family life is only a grievous misunderstanding, +and I am afraid of it." His pale face was distorted by a wry smile. +He put his arm round my waist and went on in an undertone: + +"You are my true friend; I believe in you and have a deep respect +for you. Heaven gave us friendship that we may open our hearts and +escape from the secrets that weigh upon us. Let me take advantage +of your friendly feeling for me and tell you the whole truth. My +home life, which seems to you so enchanting, is my chief misery and +my chief terror. I got married in a strange and stupid way. I must +tell you that I was madly in love with Masha before I married her, +and was courting her for two years. I asked her to marry me five +times, and she refused me because she did not care for me in the +least. The sixth, when burning with passion I crawled on my knees +before her and implored her to take a beggar and marry me, she +consented. . . . What she said to me was: 'I don't love you, but I +will be true to you. . . .' I accepted that condition with rapture. +At the time I understood what that meant, but I swear to God I don't +understand it now. 'I don't love you, but I will be true to you.' +What does that mean? It's a fog, a darkness. I love her now as +intensely as I did the day we were married, while she, I believe, +is as indifferent as ever, and I believe she is glad when I go away +from home. I don't know for certain whether she cares for me or not +--I don't know, I don't know; but, as you see, we live under the +same roof, call each other 'thou,' sleep together, have children, +our property is in common. . . . What does it mean, what does it +mean? What is the object of it? And do you understand it at all, +my dear fellow? It's cruel torture! Because I don't understand our +relations, I hate, sometimes her, sometimes myself, sometimes both +at once. Everything is in a tangle in my brain; I torment myself +and grow stupid. And as though to spite me, she grows more beautiful +every day, she is getting more wonderful. . . I fancy her hair is +marvellous, and her smile is like no other woman's. I love her, and +I know that my love is hopeless. Hopeless love for a woman by whom +one has two children! Is that intelligible? And isn't it terrible? +Isn't it more terrible than ghosts?" + +He was in the mood to have talked on a good deal longer, but luckily +we heard the coachman's voice. Our horses had arrived. We got into +the carriage, and Forty Martyrs, taking off his cap, helped us both +into the carriage with an expression that suggested that he had +long been waiting for an opportunity to come in contact with our +precious persons. + +"Dmitri Petrovitch, let me come to you," he said, blinking furiously +and tilting his head on one side. "Show divine mercy! I am dying +of hunger!" + +"Very well," said Silin. "Come, you shall stay three days, and then +we shall see." + +"Certainly, sir," said Forty Martyrs, overjoyed. "I'll come today, +sir." + +It was a five miles' drive home. Dmitri Petrovitch, glad that he +had at last opened his heart to his friend, kept his arm round my +waist all the way; and speaking now, not with bitterness and not +with apprehension, but quite cheerfully, told me that if everything +had been satisfactory in his home life, he should have returned to +Petersburg and taken up scientific work there. The movement which +had driven so many gifted young men into the country was, he said, +a deplorable movement. We had plenty of rye and wheat in Russia, +but absolutely no cultured people. The strong and gifted among the +young ought to take up science, art, and politics; to act otherwise +meant being wasteful. He generalized with pleasure and expressed +regret that he would be parting from me early next morning, as he +had to go to a sale of timber. + +And I felt awkward and depressed, and it seemed to me that I was +deceiving the man. And at the same time it was pleasant to me. I +gazed at the immense crimson moon which was rising, and pictured +the tall, graceful, fair woman, with her pale face, always well-dressed +and fragrant with some special scent, rather like musk, and for +some reason it pleased me to think she did not love her husband. + +On reaching home, we sat down to supper. Marya Sergeyevna, laughing, +regaled us with our purchases, and I thought that she certainly had +wonderful hair and that her smile was unlike any other woman's. I +watched her, and I wanted to detect in every look and movement that +she did not love her husband, and I fancied that I did see it. + +Dmitri Petrovitch was soon struggling with sleep. After supper he +sat with us for ten minutes and said: + +"Do as you please, my friends, but I have to be up at three o'clock +tomorrow morning. Excuse my leaving you." + +He kissed his wife tenderly, pressed my hand with warmth and +gratitude, and made me promise that I would certainly come the +following week. That he might not oversleep next morning, he went +to spend the night in the lodge. + +Marya Sergeyevna always sat up late, in the Petersburg fashion, and +for some reason on this occasion I was glad of it. + +"And now," I began when we were left alone, "and now you'll be kind +and play me something." + +I felt no desire for music, but I did not know how to begin the +conversation. She sat down to the piano and played, I don't remember +what. I sat down beside her and looked at her plump white hands and +tried to read something on her cold, indifferent face. Then she +smiled at something and looked at me. + +"You are dull without your friend," she said. + +I laughed. + +"It would be enough for friendship to be here once a month, but I +turn up oftener than once a week." + +Saying this, I got up and walked from one end of the room to the +other. She too got up and walked away to the fireplace. + +"What do you mean to say by that?" she said, raising her large, +clear eyes and looking at me. + +I made no answer. + +"What you say is not true," she went on, after a moment's thought. +"You only come here on account of Dmitri Petrovitch. Well, I am +very glad. One does not often see such friendships nowadays." + +"Aha!" I thought, and, not knowing what to say, I asked: "Would you +care for a turn in the garden?" + +I went out upon the verandah. Nervous shudders were running over +my head and I felt chilly with excitement. I was convinced now that +our conversation would be utterly trivial, and that there was nothing +particular we should be able to say to one another, but that, that +night, what I did not dare to dream of was bound to happen--that +it was bound to be that night or never. + +"What lovely weather!" I said aloud. + +"It makes absolutely no difference to me," she answered. + +I went into the drawing-room. Marya Sergeyevna was standing, as +before, near the fireplace, with her hands behind her back, looking +away and thinking of something. + +"Why does it make no difference to you?" I asked. + +"Because I am bored. You are only bored without your friend, but I +am always bored. However . . . that is of no interest to you." + +I sat down to the piano and struck a few chords, waiting to hear +what she would say. + +"Please don't stand on ceremony," she said, looking angrily at me, +and she seemed as though on the point of crying with vexation. "If +you are sleepy, go to bed. Because you are Dmitri Petrovitch's +friend, you are not in duty bound to be bored with his wife's +company. I don't want a sacrifice. Please go." + +I did not, of course, go to bed. She went out on the verandah while +I remained in the drawing-room and spent five minutes turning over +the music. Then I went out, too. We stood close together in the +shadow of the curtains, and below us were the steps bathed in +moonlight. The black shadows of the trees stretched across the +flower beds and the yellow sand of the paths. + +"I shall have to go away tomorrow, too," I said. + +"Of course, if my husband's not at home you can't stay here," she +said sarcastically. "I can imagine how miserable you would be if +you were in love with me! Wait a bit: one day I shall throw myself +on your neck. . . . I shall see with what horror you will run away +from me. That would be interesting." + +Her words and her pale face were angry, but her eyes were full of +tender passionate love. I already looked upon this lovely creature +as my property, and then for the first time I noticed that she had +golden eyebrows, exquisite eyebrows. I had never seen such eyebrows +before. The thought that I might at once press her to my heart, +caress her, touch her wonderful hair, seemed to me such a miracle +that I laughed and shut my eyes. + +"It's bed-time now. . . . A peaceful night," she said. + +"I don't want a peaceful night," I said, laughing, following her +into the drawing-room. "I shall curse this night if it is a peaceful +one." + +Pressing her hand, and escorting her to the door, I saw by her face +that she understood me, and was glad that I understood her, too. + +I went to my room. Near the books on the table lay Dmitri Petrovitch's +cap, and that reminded me of his affection for me. I took my stick +and went out into the garden. The mist had risen here, too, and the +same tall, narrow, ghostly shapes which I had seen earlier on the +river were trailing round the trees and bushes and wrapping about +them. What a pity I could not talk to them! + +In the extraordinarily transparent air, each leaf, each drop of dew +stood out distinctly; it was all smiling at me in the stillness +half asleep, and as I passed the green seats I recalled the words +in some play of Shakespeare's: "How sweetly falls the moonlight on +yon seat!" + +There was a mound in the garden; I went up it and sat down. I was +tormented by a delicious feeling. I knew for certain that in a +moment I should hold in my arms, should press to my heart her +magnificent body, should kiss her golden eyebrows; and I wanted to +disbelieve it, to tantalize myself, and was sorry that she had cost +me so little trouble and had yielded so soon. + +But suddenly I heard heavy footsteps. A man of medium height appeared +in the avenue, and I recognized him at once as Forty Martyrs. He +sat down on the bench and heaved a deep sigh, then crossed himself +three times and lay down. A minute later he got up and lay on the +other side. The gnats and the dampness of the night prevented his +sleeping. + +"Oh, life!" he said. "Wretched, bitter life!" + +Looking at his bent, wasted body and hearing his heavy, noisy sighs, +I thought of an unhappy, bitter life of which the confession had +been made to me that day, and I felt uneasy and frightened at my +blissful mood. I came down the knoll and went to the house. + +"Life, as he thinks, is terrible," I thought, "so don't stand on +ceremony with it, bend it to your will, and until it crushes you, +snatch all you can wring from it." + +Marya Sergeyevna was standing on the verandah. I put my arms round +her without a word, and began greedily kissing her eyebrows, her +temples, her neck. . . . + +In my room she told me she had loved me for a long time, more than +a year. She vowed eternal love, cried and begged me to take her +away with me. I repeatedly took her to the window to look at her +face in the moonlight, and she seemed to me a lovely dream, and I +made haste to hold her tight to convince myself of the truth of it. +It was long since I had known such raptures. . . . Yet somewhere +far away at the bottom of my heart I felt an awkwardness, and I was +ill at ease. In her love for me there was something incongruous and +burdensome, just as in Dmitri Petrovitch's friendship. It was a +great, serious passion with tears and vows, and I wanted nothing +serious in it--no tears, no vows, no talk of the future. Let that +moonlight night flash through our lives like a meteor and--_basta!_ + +At three o'clock she went out of my room, and, while I was standing +in the doorway, looking after her, at the end of the corridor Dmitri +Petrovitch suddenly made his appearance; she started and stood aside +to let him pass, and her whole figure was expressive of repulsion. +He gave a strange smile, coughed, and came into my room. + +"I forgot my cap here yesterday," he said without looking at me. + +He found it and, holding it in both hands, put it on his head; then +he looked at my confused face, at my slippers, and said in a strange, +husky voice unlike his own: + +"I suppose it must be my fate that I should understand nothing. . . . +If you understand anything, I congratulate you. It's all darkness +before my eyes." + +And he went out, clearing his throat. Afterwards from the window I +saw him by the stable, harnessing the horses with his own hands. +His hands were trembling, he was in nervous haste and kept looking +round at the house; probably he was feeling terror. Then he got +into the gig, and, with a strange expression as though afraid of +being pursued, lashed the horses. + +Shortly afterwards I set off, too. The sun was already rising, and +the mist of the previous day clung timidly to the bushes and the +hillocks. On the box of the carriage was sitting Forty Martyrs; he +had already succeeded in getting drunk and was muttering tipsy +nonsense. + +"I am a free man," he shouted to the horses. "Ah, my honeys, I am +a nobleman in my own right, if you care to know!" + +The terror of Dmitri Petrovitch, the thought of whom I could not +get out of my head, infected me. I thought of what had happened and +could make nothing of it. I looked at the rooks, and it seemed so +strange and terrible that they were flying. + +"Why have I done this?" I kept asking myself in bewilderment and +despair. "Why has it turned out like this and not differently? To +whom and for what was it necessary that she should love me in +earnest, and that he should come into my room to fetch his cap? +What had a cap to do with it?" + +I set off for Petersburg that day, and I have not seen Dmitri +Petrovitch nor his wife since. I am told that they are still living +together. + + +A WOMAN'S KINGDOM + +I + +Christmas Eve + +HERE was a thick roll of notes. It came from the bailiff at the +forest villa; he wrote that he was sending fifteen hundred roubles, +which he had been awarded as damages, having won an appeal. Anna +Akimovna disliked and feared such words as "awarded damages" and +"won the suit." She knew that it was impossible to do without the +law, but for some reason, whenever Nazaritch, the manager of the +factory, or the bailiff of her villa in the country, both of whom +frequently went to law, used to win lawsuits of some sort for her +benefit, she always felt uneasy and, as it were, ashamed. On this +occasion, too, she felt uneasy and awkward, and wanted to put that +fifteen hundred roubles further away that it might be out of her +sight. + +She thought with vexation that other girls of her age--she was +in her twenty-sixth year--were now busy looking after their +households, were weary and would sleep sound, and would wake up +tomorrow morning in holiday mood; many of them had long been married +and had children. Only she, for some reason, was compelled to sit +like an old woman over these letters, to make notes upon them, to +write answers, then to do nothing the whole evening till midnight, +but wait till she was sleepy; and tomorrow they would all day long +be coming with Christmas greetings and asking for favours; and the +day after tomorrow there would certainly be some scandal at the +factory--some one would be beaten or would die of drinking too +much vodka, and she would be fretted by pangs of conscience; and +after the holidays Nazaritch would turn off some twenty of the +workpeople for absence from work, and all of the twenty would hang +about at the front door, without their caps on, and she would be +ashamed to go out to them, and they would be driven away like dogs. +And all her acquaintances would say behind her back, and write to +her in anonymous letters, that she was a millionaire and exploiter +--that she was devouring other men's lives and sucking the blood +of the workers. + +Here there lay a heap of letters read through and laid aside already. +They were all begging letters. They were from people who were hungry, +drunken, dragged down by large families, sick, degraded, despised +. . . . Anna Akimovna had already noted on each letter, three roubles +to be paid to one, five to another; these letters would go the same +day to the office, and next the distribution of assistance would +take place, or, as the clerks used to say, the beasts would be fed. + +They would distribute also in small sums four hundred and seventy +roubles--the interest on a sum bequeathed by the late Akim +Ivanovitch for the relief of the poor and needy. There would be a +hideous crush. From the gates to the doors of the office there would +stretch a long file of strange people with brutal faces, in rags, +numb with cold, hungry and already drunk, in husky voices calling +down blessings upon Anna Akimovna, their benefactress, and her +parents: those at the back would press upon those in front, and +those in front would abuse them with bad language. The clerk would +get tired of the noise, the swearing, and the sing-song whining and +blessing; would fly out and give some one a box on the ear to the +delight of all. And her own people, the factory hands, who received +nothing at Christmas but their wages, and had already spent every +farthing of it, would stand in the middle of the yard, looking on +and laughing--some enviously, others ironically. + +"Merchants, and still more their wives, are fonder of beggars than +they are of their own workpeople," thought Anna Akimovna. "It's +always so." + +Her eye fell upon the roll of money. It would be nice to distribute +that hateful, useless money among the workpeople tomorrow, but it +did not do to give the workpeople anything for nothing, or they +would demand it again next time. And what would be the good of +fifteen hundred roubles when there were eighteen hundred workmen +in the factory besides their wives and children? Or she might, +perhaps, pick out one of the writers of those begging letters-- +some luckless man who had long ago lost all hope of anything better, +and give him the fifteen hundred. The money would come upon the +poor creature like a thunder-clap, and perhaps for the first time +in his life he would feel happy. This idea struck Anna Akimovna as +original and amusing, and it fascinated her. She took one letter +at random out of the pile and read it. Some petty official called +Tchalikov had long been out of a situation, was ill, and living in +Gushtchin's Buildings; his wife was in consumption, and he had five +little girls. Anna Akimovna knew well the four-storeyed house, +Gushtchin's Buildings, in which Tchalikov lived. Oh, it was a horrid, +foul, unhealthy house! + +"Well, I will give it to that Tchalikov," she decided. "I won't +send it; I had better take it myself to prevent unnecessary talk. +Yes," she reflected, as she put the fifteen hundred roubles in her +pocket, "and I'll have a look at them, and perhaps I can do something +for the little girls." + +She felt light-hearted; she rang the bell and ordered the horses +to be brought round. + +When she got into the sledge it was past six o'clock in the evening. +The windows in all the blocks of buildings were brightly lighted +up, and that made the huge courtyard seem very dark: at the gates, +and at the far end of the yard near the warehouses and the workpeople's +barracks, electric lamps were gleaming. + +Anna Akimovna disliked and feared those huge dark buildings, +warehouses, and barracks where the workmen lived. She had only once +been in the main building since her father's death. The high ceilings +with iron girders; the multitude of huge, rapidly turning wheels, +connecting straps and levers; the shrill hissing; the clank of +steel; the rattle of the trolleys; the harsh puffing of steam; the +faces--pale, crimson, or black with coal-dust; the shirts soaked +with sweat; the gleam of steel, of copper, and of fire; the smell +of oil and coal; and the draught, at times very hot and at times +very cold--gave her an impression of hell. It seemed to her as +though the wheels, the levers, and the hot hissing cylinders were +trying to tear themselves away from their fastenings to crush the +men, while the men, not hearing one another, ran about with anxious +faces, and busied themselves about the machines, trying to stop +their terrible movement. They showed Anna Akimovna something and +respectfully explained it to her. She remembered how in the forge +a piece of red-hot iron was pulled out of the furnace; and how an +old man with a strap round his head, and another, a young man in a +blue shirt with a chain on his breast, and an angry face, probably +one of the foremen, struck the piece of iron with hammers; and how +the golden sparks had been scattered in all directions; and how, a +little afterwards, they had dragged out a huge piece of sheet-iron +with a clang. The old man had stood erect and smiled, while the +young man had wiped his face with his sleeve and explained something +to her. And she remembered, too, how in another department an old +man with one eye had been filing a piece of iron, and how the iron +filings were scattered about; and how a red-haired man in black +spectacles, with holes in his shirt, had been working at a lathe, +making something out of a piece of steel: the lathe roared and +hissed and squeaked, and Anna Akimovna felt sick at the sound, and +it seemed as though they were boring into her ears. She looked, +listened, did not understand, smiled graciously, and felt ashamed. +To get hundreds of thousands of roubles from a business which one +does not understand and cannot like--how strange it is! + +And she had not once been in the workpeople's barracks. There, she +was told, it was damp; there were bugs, debauchery, anarchy. It was +an astonishing thing: a thousand roubles were spent annually on +keeping the barracks in good order, yet, if she were to believe the +anonymous letters, the condition of the workpeople was growing worse +and worse every year. + +"There was more order in my father's day," thought Anna Akimovna, +as she drove out of the yard, "because he had been a workman himself. +I know nothing about it and only do silly things." + +She felt depressed again, and was no longer glad that she had come, +and the thought of the lucky man upon whom fifteen hundred roubles +would drop from heaven no longer struck her as original and amusing. +To go to some Tchalikov or other, when at home a business worth a +million was gradually going to pieces and being ruined, and the +workpeople in the barracks were living worse than convicts, meant +doing something silly and cheating her conscience. Along the highroad +and across the fields near it, workpeople from the neighbouring +cotton and paper factories were walking towards the lights of the +town. There was the sound of talk and laughter in the frosty air. +Anna Akimovna looked at the women and young people, and she suddenly +felt a longing for a plain rough life among a crowd. She recalled +vividly that far-away time when she used to be called Anyutka, when +she was a little girl and used to lie under the same quilt with her +mother, while a washerwoman who lodged with them used to wash clothes +in the next room; while through the thin walls there came from the +neighbouring flats sounds of laughter, swearing, children's crying, +the accordion, and the whirr of carpenters' lathes and sewing-machines; +while her father, Akim Ivanovitch, who was clever at almost every +craft, would be soldering something near the stove, or drawing or +planing, taking no notice whatever of the noise and stuffiness. And +she longed to wash, to iron, to run to the shop and the tavern as +she used to do every day when she lived with her mother. She ought +to have been a work-girl and not the factory owner! Her big house +with its chandeliers and pictures; her footman Mishenka, with his +glossy moustache and swallowtail coat; the devout and dignified +Varvarushka, and smooth-tongued Agafyushka; and the young people +of both sexes who came almost every day to ask her for money, and +with whom she always for some reason felt guilty; and the clerks, +the doctors, and the ladies who were charitable at her expense, who +flattered her and secretly despised her for her humble origin-- +how wearisome and alien it all was to her! + +Here was the railway crossing and the city gate; then came houses +alternating with kitchen gardens; and at last the broad street where +stood the renowned Gushtchin's Buildings. The street, usually quiet, +was now on Christmas Eve full of life and movement. The eating-houses +and beer-shops were noisy. If some one who did not belong to that +quarter but lived in the centre of the town had driven through the +street now, he would have noticed nothing but dirty, drunken, and +abusive people; but Anna Akimovna, who had lived in those parts all +her life, was constantly recognizing in the crowd her own father +or mother or uncle. Her father was a soft fluid character, a little +fantastical, frivolous, and irresponsible. He did not care for +money, respectability, or power; he used to say that a working man +had no time to keep the holy-days and go to church; and if it had +not been for his wife, he would probably never have gone to confession, +taken the sacrament or kept the fasts. While her uncle, Ivan +Ivanovitch, on the contrary, was like flint; in everything relating +to religion, politics, and morality, he was harsh and relentless, +and kept a strict watch, not only over himself, but also over all +his servants and acquaintances. God forbid that one should go into +his room without crossing oneself before the ikon! The luxurious +mansion in which Anna Akimovna now lived he had always kept locked +up, and only opened it on great holidays for important visitors, +while he lived himself in the office, in a little room covered with +ikons. He had leanings towards the Old Believers, and was continually +entertaining priests and bishops of the old ritual, though he had +been christened, and married, and had buried his wife in accordance +with the Orthodox rites. He disliked Akim, his only brother and his +heir, for his frivolity, which he called simpleness and folly, and +for his indifference to religion. He treated him as an inferior, +kept him in the position of a workman, paid him sixteen roubles a +month. Akim addressed his brother with formal respect, and on the +days of asking forgiveness, he and his wife and daughter bowed down +to the ground before him. But three years before his death Ivan +Ivanovitch had drawn closer to his brother, forgave his shortcomings, +and ordered him to get a governess for Anyutka. + +There was a dark, deep, evil-smelling archway under Gushtchin's +Buildings; there was a sound of men coughing near the walls. Leaving +the sledge in the street, Anna Akimovna went in at the gate and +there inquired how to get to No. 46 to see a clerk called Tchalikov. +She was directed to the furthest door on the right in the third +story. And in the courtyard and near the outer door, and even on +the stairs, there was still the same loathsome smell as under the +archway. In Anna Akimovna's childhood, when her father was a simple +workman, she used to live in a building like that, and afterwards, +when their circumstances were different, she had often visited them +in the character of a Lady Bountiful. The narrow stone staircase +with its steep dirty steps, with landings at every story; the greasy +swinging lanterns; the stench; the troughs, pots, and rags on the +landings near the doors,--all this had been familiar to her long +ago. . . . One door was open, and within could be seen Jewish tailors +in caps, sewing. Anna Akimovna met people on the stairs, but it +never entered her head that people might be rude to her. She was +no more afraid of peasants or workpeople, drunk or sober, than of +her acquaintances of the educated class. + +There was no entry at No. 46; the door opened straight into the +kitchen. As a rule the dwellings of workmen and mechanics smell of +varnish, tar, hides, smoke, according to the occupation of the +tenant; the dwellings of persons of noble or official class who +have come to poverty may be known by a peculiar rancid, sour smell. +This disgusting smell enveloped Anna Akimovna on all sides, and as +yet she was only on the threshold. A man in a black coat, no doubt +Tchalikov himself, was sitting in a corner at the table with his +back to the door, and with him were five little girls. The eldest, +a broad-faced thin girl with a comb in her hair, looked about +fifteen, while the youngest, a chubby child with hair that stood +up like a hedge-hog, was not more than three. All the six were +eating. Near the stove stood a very thin little woman with a yellow +face, far gone in pregnancy. She was wearing a skirt and a white +blouse, and had an oven fork in her hand. + +"I did not expect you to be so disobedient, Liza," the man was +saying reproachfully. "Fie, fie, for shame! Do you want papa to +whip you--eh?" + +Seeing an unknown lady in the doorway, the thin woman started, and +put down the fork. + +"Vassily Nikititch!" she cried, after a pause, in a hollow voice, +as though she could not believe her eyes. + +The man looked round and jumped up. He was a flat-chested, bony man +with narrow shoulders and sunken temples. His eyes were small and +hollow with dark rings round them, he had a wide mouth, and a long +nose like a bird's beak--a little bit bent to the right. His beard +was parted in the middle, his moustache was shaven, and this made +him look more like a hired footman than a government clerk. + +"Does Mr. Tchalikov live here?" asked Anna Akimovna. + +"Yes, madam," Tchalikov answered severely, but immediately recognizing +Anna Akimovna, he cried: "Anna Akimovna!" and all at once he gasped +and clasped his hands as though in terrible alarm. "Benefactress!" + +With a moan he ran to her, grunting inarticulately as though he +were paralyzed--there was cabbage on his beard and he smelt of +vodka--pressed his forehead to her muff, and seemed as though he +were in a swoon. + +"Your hand, your holy hand!" he brought out breathlessly. "It's a +dream, a glorious dream! Children, awaken me!" + +He turned towards the table and said in a sobbing voice, shaking +his fists: + +"Providence has heard us! Our saviour, our angel, has come! We are +saved! Children, down on your knees! on your knees!" + +Madame Tchalikov and the little girls, except the youngest one, +began for some reason rapidly clearing the table. + +"You wrote that your wife was very ill," said Anna Akimovna, and +she felt ashamed and annoyed. "I am not going to give them the +fifteen hundred," she thought. + +"Here she is, my wife," said Tchalikov in a thin feminine voice, +as though his tears had gone to his head. "Here she is, unhappy +creature! With one foot in the grave! But we do not complain, madam. +Better death than such a life. Better die, unhappy woman!" + +"Why is he playing these antics?" thought Anna Akimovna with +annoyance. "One can see at once he is used to dealing with merchants." + +"Speak to me like a human being," she said. "I don't care for +farces.'' + +"Yes, madam; five bereaved children round their mother's coffin +with funeral candles--that's a farce? Eh?" said Tchalikov bitterly, +and turned away. + +"Hold your tongue," whispered his wife, and she pulled at his sleeve. +"The place has not been tidied up, madam," she said, addressing +Anna Akimovna; "please excuse it . . . you know what it is where +there are children. A crowded hearth, but harmony." + +"I am not going to give them the fifteen hundred," Anna Akimovna +thought again. + +And to escape as soon as possible from these people and from the +sour smell, she brought out her purse and made up her mind to leave +them twenty-five roubles, not more; but she suddenly felt ashamed +that she had come so far and disturbed people for so little. + +"If you give me paper and ink, I will write at once to a doctor who +is a friend of mine to come and see you," she said, flushing red. +"He is a very good doctor. And I will leave you some money for +medicine." + +Madame Tchalikov was hastening to wipe the table. + +"It's messy here! What are you doing?" hissed Tchalikov, looking +at her wrathfully. "Take her to the lodger's room! I make bold to +ask you, madam, to step into the lodger's room," he said, addressing +Anna Akimovna. "It's clean there." + +"Osip Ilyitch told us not to go into his room!" said one of the +little girls, sternly. + +But they had already led Anna Akimovna out of the kitchen, through +a narrow passage room between two bedsteads: it was evident from +the arrangement of the beds that in one two slept lengthwise, and +in the other three slept across the bed. In the lodger's room, that +came next, it really was clean. A neat-looking bed with a red woollen +quilt, a pillow in a white pillow-case, even a slipper for the +watch, a table covered with a hempen cloth and on it, an inkstand +of milky-looking glass, pens, paper, photographs in frames-- +everything as it ought to be; and another table for rough work, on +which lay tidily arranged a watchmaker's tools and watches taken +to pieces. On the walls hung hammers, pliers, awls, chisels, nippers, +and so on, and there were three hanging clocks which were ticking; +one was a big clock with thick weights, such as one sees in +eating-houses. + +As she sat down to write the letter, Anna Akimovna saw facing her +on the table the photographs of her father and of herself. That +surprised her. + +"Who lives here with you?" she asked. + +"Our lodger, madam, Pimenov. He works in your factory." + +"Oh, I thought he must be a watchmaker." + +"He repairs watches privately, in his leisure hours. He is an +amateur." + +After a brief silence during which nothing could be heard but the +ticking of the clocks and the scratching of the pen on the paper, +Tchalikov heaved a sigh and said ironically, with indignation: + +"It's a true saying: gentle birth and a grade in the service won't +put a coat on your back. A cockade in your cap and a noble title, +but nothing to eat. To my thinking, if any one of humble class helps +the poor he is much more of a gentleman than any Tchalikov who has +sunk into poverty and vice." + +To flatter Anna Akimovna, he uttered a few more disparaging phrases +about his gentle birth, and it was evident that he was humbling +himself because he considered himself superior to her. Meanwhile +she had finished her letter and had sealed it up. The letter would +be thrown away and the money would not be spent on medicine--that +she knew, but she put twenty-five roubles on the table all the same, +and after a moment's thought, added two more red notes. She saw the +wasted, yellow hand of Madame Tchalikov, like the claw of a hen, +dart out and clutch the money tight. + +"You have graciously given this for medicine," said Tchalikov in a +quivering voice, "but hold out a helping hand to me also . . . and +the children!" he added with a sob. "My unhappy children! I am not +afraid for myself; it is for my daughters I fear! It's the hydra +of vice that I fear!" + +Trying to open her purse, the catch of which had gone wrong, Anna +Akimovna was confused and turned red. She felt ashamed that people +should be standing before her, looking at her hands and waiting, +and most likely at the bottom of their hearts laughing at her. At +that instant some one came into the kitchen and stamped his feet, +knocking the snow off. + +"The lodger has come in," said Madame Tchalikov. + +Anna Akimovna grew even more confused. She did not want any one +from the factory to find her in this ridiculous position. As ill-luck +would have it, the lodger came in at the very moment when, having +broken the catch at last, she was giving Tchalikov some notes, and +Tchalikov, grunting as though he were paraylzed, was feeling about +with his lips where he could kiss her. In the lodger she recognized +the workman who had once clanked the sheet-iron before her in the +forge, and had explained things to her. Evidently he had come in +straight from the factory; his face looked dark and grimy, and on +one cheek near his nose was a smudge of soot. His hands were perfectly +black, and his unbelted shirt shone with oil and grease. He was a +man of thirty, of medium height, with black hair and broad shoulders, +and a look of great physical strength. At the first glance Anna +Akimovna perceived that he must be a foreman, who must be receiving +at least thirty-five roubles a month, and a stern, loud-voiced man +who struck the workmen in the face; all this was evident from his +manner of standing, from the attitude he involuntarily assumed at +once on seeing a lady in his room, and most of all from the fact +that he did not wear top-boots, that he had breast pockets, and a +pointed, picturesquely clipped beard. Her father, Akim Ivanovitch, +had been the brother of the factory owner, and yet he had been +afraid of foremen like this lodger and had tried to win their favour. + +"Excuse me for having come in here in your absence," said Anna +Akimovna. + +The workman looked at her in surprise, smiled in confusion and did +not speak. + +"You must speak a little louder, madam . . . ." said Tchalikov +softly. "When Mr. Pimenov comes home from the factory in the evenings +he is a little hard of hearing." + +But Anna Akimovna was by now relieved that there was nothing more +for her to do here; she nodded to them and went rapidly out of the +room. Pimenov went to see her out. + +"Have you been long in our employment?" she asked in a loud voice, +without turning to him. + +"From nine years old. I entered the factory in your uncle's time." + +"That's a long while! My uncle and my father knew all the workpeople, +and I know hardly any of them. I had seen you before, but I did not +know your name was Pimenov." + +Anna Akimovna felt a desire to justify herself before him, to pretend +that she had just given the money not seriously, but as a joke. + +"Oh, this poverty," she sighed. "We give charity on holidays and +working days, and still there is no sense in it. I believe it is +useless to help such people as this Tchalikov." + +"Of course it is useless," he agreed. "However much you give him, +he will drink it all away. And now the husband and wife will be +snatching it from one another and fighting all night," he added +with a laugh. + +"Yes, one must admit that our philanthropy is useless, boring, and +absurd. But still, you must agree, one can't sit with one's hand +in one's lap; one must do something. What's to be done with the +Tchalikovs, for instance?" + +She turned to Pimenov and stopped, expecting an answer from him; +he, too, stopped and slowly, without speaking, shrugged his shoulders. +Obviously he knew what to do with the Tchalikovs, but the treatment +would have been so coarse and inhuman that he did not venture to +put it into words. And the Tchalikovs were to him so utterly +uninteresting and worthless, that a moment later he had forgotten +them; looking into Anna Akimovna's eyes, he smiled with pleasure, +and his face wore an expression as though he were dreaming about +something very pleasant. Only, now standing close to him, Anna +Akimovna saw from his face, and especially from his eyes, how +exhausted and sleepy he was. + +"Here, I ought to give him the fifteen hundred roubles!" she thought, +but for some reason this idea seemed to her incongruous and insulting +to Pimenov. + +"I am sure you are aching all over after your work, and you come +to the door with me," she said as they went down the stairs. "Go +home." + +But he did not catch her words. When they came out into the street, +he ran on ahead, unfastened the cover of the sledge, and helping +Anna Akimovna in, said: + +"I wish you a happy Christmas!" + +II + +Christmas Morning + +"They have left off ringing ever so long! It's dreadful; you won't +be there before the service is over! Get up!" + +"Two horses are racing, racing . . ." said Anna Akimovna, and she +woke up; before her, candle in hand, stood her maid, red-haired +Masha. "Well, what is it?" + +"Service is over already," said Masha with despair. "I have called +you three times! Sleep till evening for me, but you told me yourself +to call you!" + +Anna Akimovna raised herself on her elbow and glanced towards the +window. It was still quite dark outside, and only the lower edge +of the window-frame was white with snow. She could hear a low, +mellow chime of bells; it was not the parish church, but somewhere +further away. The watch on the little table showed three minutes +past six. + +"Very well, Masha. . . . In three minutes . . ." said Anna Akimovna +in an imploring voice, and she snuggled under the bed-clothes. + +She imagined the snow at the front door, the sledge, the dark sky, +the crowd in the church, and the smell of juniper, and she felt +dread at the thought; but all the same, she made up her mind that +she would get up at once and go to early service. And while she was +warm in bed and struggling with sleep--which seems, as though to +spite one, particularly sweet when one ought to get up--and while +she had visions of an immense garden on a mountain and then Gushtchin's +Buildings, she was worried all the time by the thought that she +ought to get up that very minute and go to church. + +But when she got up it was quite light, and it turned out to be +half-past nine. There had been a heavy fall of snow in the night; +the trees were clothed in white, and the air was particularly light, +transparent, and tender, so that when Anna Akimovna looked out of +the window her first impulse was to draw a deep, deep breath. And +when she had washed, a relic of far-away childish feelings--joy +that today was Christmas--suddenly stirred within her; after that +she felt light-hearted, free and pure in soul, as though her soul, +too, had been washed or plunged in the white snow. Masha came in, +dressed up and tightly laced, and wished her a happy Christmas; +then she spent a long time combing her mistress's hair and helping +her to dress. The fragrance and feeling of the new, gorgeous, +splendid dress, its faint rustle, and the smell of fresh scent, +excited Anna Akimoyna. + +"Well, it's Christmas," she said gaily to Masha. "Now we will try +our fortunes." + +"Last year, I was to marry an old man. It turned up three times the +same." + +"Well, God is merciful." + +"Well, Anna Akimovna, what I think is, rather than neither one thing +nor the other, I'd marry an old man," said Masha mournfully, and +she heaved a sigh. "I am turned twenty; it's no joke." + +Every one in the house knew that red-haired Masha was in love with +Mishenka, the footman, and this genuine, passionate, hopeless love +had already lasted three years. + +"Come, don't talk nonsense," Anna Akimovna consoled her. "I am going +on for thirty, but I am still meaning to marry a young man." + +While his mistress was dressing, Mishenka, in a new swallow-tail +and polished boots, walked about the hall and drawing-room and +waited for her to come out, to wish her a happy Christmas. He had +a peculiar walk, stepping softly and delicately; looking at his +feet, his hands, and the bend of his head, it might be imagined +that he was not simply walking, but learning to dance the first +figure of a quadrille. In spite of his fine velvety moustache and +handsome, rather flashy appearance, he was steady, prudent, and +devout as an old man. He said his prayers, bowing down to the ground, +and liked burning incense in his room. He respected people of wealth +and rank and had a reverence for them; he despised poor people, and +all who came to ask favours of any kind, with all the strength of +his cleanly flunkey soul. Under his starched shirt he wore a flannel, +winter and summer alike, being very careful of his health; his ears +were plugged with cotton-wool. + +When Anna Akimovna crossed the hall with Masha, he bent his head +downwards a little and said in his agreeable, honeyed voice: + +"I have the honour to congratulate you, Anna Akimovna, on the most +solemn feast of the birth of our Lord." + +Anna Akimovna gave him five roubles, while poor Masha was numb with +ecstasy. His holiday get-up, his attitude, his voice, and what he +said, impressed her by their beauty and elegance; as she followed +her mistress she could think of nothing, could see nothing, she +could only smile, first blissfully and then bitterly. The upper +story of the house was called the best or visitors' half, while the +name of the business part--old people's or simply women's part +--was given to the rooms on the lower story where Aunt Tatyana +Ivanovna kept house. In the upper part the gentry and educated +visitors were entertained; in the lower story, simpler folk and the +aunt's personal friends. Handsome, plump, and healthy, still young +and fresh, and feeling she had on a magnificent dress which seemed +to her to diffuse a sort of radiance all about her, Anna Akimovna +went down to the lower story. Here she was met with reproaches for +forgetting God now that she was so highly educated, for sleeping +too late for the service, and for not coming downstairs to break +the fast, and they all clasped their hands and exclaimed with perfect +sincerity that she was lovely, wonderful; and she believed it, +laughed, kissed them, gave one a rouble, another three or five +according to their position. She liked being downstairs. Wherever +one looked there were shrines, ikons, little lamps, portraits of +ecclesiastical personages--the place smelt of monks; there was a +rattle of knives in the kitchen, and already a smell of something +savoury, exceedingly appetizing, was pervading all the rooms. The +yellow-painted floors shone, and from the doors narrow rugs with +bright blue stripes ran like little paths to the ikon corner, and +the sunshine was simply pouring in at the windows. + +In the dining-room some old women, strangers, were sitting; in +Varvarushka's room, too, there were old women, and with them a deaf +and dumb girl, who seemed abashed about something and kept saying, +"Bli, bli! . . ." Two skinny-looking little girls who had been +brought out of the orphanage for Christmas came up to kiss Anna +Akimovna's hand, and stood before her transfixed with admiration +of her splendid dress; she noticed that one of the girls squinted, +and in the midst of her light-hearted holiday mood she felt a sick +pang at her heart at the thought that young men would despise the +girl, and that she would never marry. In the cook Agafya's room, +five huge peasants in new shirts were sitting round the samovar; +these were not workmen from the factory, but relations of the cook. +Seeing Anna Akimovna, all the peasants jumped up from their seats, +and from regard for decorum, ceased munching, though their mouths +were full. The cook Stepan, in a white cap, with a knife in his +hand, came into the room and gave her his greetings; porters in +high felt boots came in, and they, too, offered their greetings. +The water-carrier peeped in with icicles on his beard, but did not +venture to come in. + +Anna Akimovna walked through the rooms followed by her retinue-- +the aunt, Varvarushka, Nikandrovna, the sewing-maid Marfa Petrovna, +and the downstairs Masha. Varvarushka--a tall, thin, slender +woman, taller than any one in the house, dressed all in black, +smelling of cypress and coffee--crossed herself in each room +before the ikon, bowing down from the waist. And whenever one looked +at her one was reminded that she had already prepared her shroud +and that lottery tickets were hidden away by her in the same box. + +"Anyutinka, be merciful at Christmas," she said, opening the door +into the kitchen. "Forgive him, bless the man! Have done with it!" + +The coachman Panteley, who had been dismissed for drunkenness in +November, was on his knees in the middle of the kitchen. He was a +good-natured man, but he used to be unruly when he was drunk, and +could not go to sleep, but persisted in wandering about the buildings +and shouting in a threatening voice, "I know all about it!" Now +from his beefy and bloated face and from his bloodshot eyes it could +be seen that he had been drinking continually from November till +Christmas. + +"Forgive me, Anna Akimovna," he brought out in a hoarse voice, +striking his forehead on the floor and showing his bull-like neck. + +"It was Auntie dismissed you; ask her." + +"What about auntie?" said her aunt, walking into the kitchen, +breathing heavily; she was very stout, and on her bosom one might +have stood a tray of teacups and a samovar. "What about auntie now? +You are mistress here, give your own orders; though these rascals +might be all dead for all I care. Come, get up, you hog!" she shouted +at Panteley, losing patience. "Get out of my sight! It's the last +time I forgive you, but if you transgress again--don't ask for +mercy!" + +Then they went into the dining-room to coffee. But they had hardly +sat down, when the downstairs Masha rushed headlong in, saying with +horror, "The singers!" And ran back again. They heard some one +blowing his nose, a low bass cough, and footsteps that sounded like +horses' iron-shod hoofs tramping about the entry near the hall. For +half a minute all was hushed. . . . The singers burst out so suddenly +and loudly that every one started. While they were singing, the +priest from the almshouses with the deacon and the sexton arrived. +Putting on the stole, the priest slowly said that when they were +ringing for matins it was snowing and not cold, but that the frost +was sharper towards morning, God bless it! and now there must be +twenty degrees of frost. + +"Many people maintain, though, that winter is healthier than summer," +said the deacon; then immediately assumed an austere expression and +chanted after the priest. "Thy Birth, O Christ our Lord. . . ." + +Soon the priest from the workmen's hospital came with the deacon, +then the Sisters from the hospital, children from the orphanage, +and then singing could be heard almost uninterruptedly. They sang, +had lunch, and went away. + +About twenty men from the factory came to offer their Christmas +greetings. They were only the foremen, mechanicians, and their +assistants, the pattern-makers, the accountant, and so on--all +of good appearance, in new black coats. They were all first-rate +men, as it were picked men; each one knew his value--that is, +knew that if he lost his berth today, people would be glad to take +him on at another factory. Evidently they liked Auntie, as they +behaved freely in her presence and even smoked, and when they had +all trooped in to have something to eat, the accountant put his arm +round her immense waist. They were free-and-easy, perhaps, partly +also because Varvarushka, who under the old masters had wielded +great power and had kept watch over the morals of the clerks, had +now no authority whatever in the house; and perhaps because many +of them still remembered the time when Auntie Tatyana Ivanovna, +whose brothers kept a strict hand over her, had been dressed like +a simple peasant woman like Agafya, and when Anna Akimovna used to +run about the yard near the factory buildings and every one used +to call her Anyutya. + +The foremen ate, talked, and kept looking with amazement at Anna +Akimovna, how she had grown up and how handsome she had become! But +this elegant girl, educated by governesses and teachers, was a +stranger to them; they could not understand her, and they instinctively +kept closer to "Auntie," who called them by their names, continually +pressed them to eat and drink, and, clinking glasses with them, had +already drunk two wineglasses of rowanberry wine with them. Anna +Akimovna was always afraid of their thinking her proud, an upstart, +or a crow in peacock's feathers; and now while the foremen were +crowding round the food, she did not leave the dining-room, but +took part in the conversation. She asked Pimenov, her acquaintance +of the previous day: + +"Why have you so many clocks in your room?" + +"I mend clocks," he answered. "I take the work up between times, +on holidays, or when I can't sleep." + +"So if my watch goes wrong I can bring it to you to be repaired?" +Anna Akimovna asked, laughing. + +"To be sure, I will do it with pleasure," said Pimenov, and there +was an expression of tender devotion in his face, when, not herself +knowing why, she unfastened her magnificent watch from its chain +and handed it to him; he looked at it in silence and gave it back. +"To be sure, I will do it with pleasure," he repeated. "I don't +mend watches now. My eyes are weak, and the doctors have forbidden +me to do fine work. But for you I can make an exception." + +"Doctors talk nonsense," said the accountant. They all laughed. +"Don't you believe them," he went on, flattered by the laughing; +"last year a tooth flew out of a cylinder and hit old Kalmykov such +a crack on the head that you could see his brains, and the doctor +said he would die; but he is alive and working to this day, only +he has taken to stammering since that mishap." + +"Doctors do talk nonsense, they do, but not so much," sighed Auntie. +"Pyotr Andreyitch, poor dear, lost his sight. Just like you, he +used to work day in day out at the factory near the hot furnace, +and he went blind. The eyes don't like heat. But what are we talking +about?" she said, rousing herself. "Come and have a drink. My best +wishes for Christmas, my dears. I never drink with any one else, +but I drink with you, sinful woman as I am. Please God!" + +Anna Akimovna fancied that after yesterday Pimenov despised her as +a philanthropist, but was fascinated by her as a woman. She looked +at him and thought that he behaved very charmingly and was nicely +dressed. It is true that the sleeves of his coat were not quite +long enough, and the coat itself seemed short-waisted, and his +trousers were not wide and fashionable, but his tie was tied +carelessly and with taste and was not as gaudy as the others'. And +he seemed to be a good-natured man, for he ate submissively whatever +Auntie put on his plate. She remembered how black he had been the +day before, and how sleepy, and the thought of it for some reason +touched her. + +When the men were preparing to go, Anna Akimovna put out her hand +to Pimenov. She wanted to ask him to come in sometimes to see her, +without ceremony, but she did not know how to--her tongue would +not obey her; and that they might not think she was attracted by +Pimenov, she shook hands with his companions, too. + +Then the boys from the school of which she was a patroness came. +They all had their heads closely cropped and all wore grey blouses +of the same pattern. The teacher--a tall, beardless young man +with patches of red on his face--was visibly agitated as he formed +the boys into rows; the boys sang in tune, but with harsh, disagreeable +voices. The manager of the factory, Nazaritch, a bald, sharp-eyed +Old Believer, could never get on with the teachers, but the one who +was now anxiously waving his hands he despised and hated, though +he could not have said why. He behaved rudely and condescendingly +to the young man, kept back his salary, meddled with the teaching, +and had finally tried to dislodge him by appointing, a fortnight +before Christmas, as porter to the school a drunken peasant, a +distant relation of his wife's, who disobeyed the teacher and said +rude things to him before the boys. + +Anna Akimovna was aware of all this, but she could be of no help, +for she was afraid of Nazaritch herself. Now she wanted at least +to be very nice to the schoolmaster, to tell him she was very much +pleased with him; but when after the singing he began apologizing +for something in great confusion, and Auntie began to address him +familiarly as she drew him without ceremony to the table, she felt, +for some reason, bored and awkward, and giving orders that the +children should be given sweets, went upstairs. + +"In reality there is something cruel in these Christmas customs," +she said a little while afterwards, as it were to herself, looking +out of window at the boys, who were flocking from the house to the +gates and shivering with cold, putting their coats on as they ran. +"At Christmas one wants to rest, to sit at home with one's own +people, and the poor boys, the teacher, and the clerks and foremen, +are obliged for some reason to go through the frost, then to offer +their greetings, show their respect, be put to confusion . . ." + +Mishenka, who was standing at the door of the drawing-room and +overheard this, said: + +"It has not come from us, and it will not end with us. Of course, +I am not an educated man, Anna Akimovna, but I do understand that +the poor must always respect the rich. It is well said, 'God marks +the rogue.' In prisons, night refuges, and pot-houses you never see +any but the poor, while decent people, you may notice, are always +rich. It has been said of the rich, 'Deep calls to deep.'" + +"You always express yourself so tediously and incomprehensibly," +said Anna Akimovna, and she walked to the other end of the big +drawing-room. + +It was only just past eleven. The stillness of the big room, only +broken by the singing that floated up from below, made her yawn. +The bronzes, the albums, and the pictures on the walls, representing +a ship at sea, cows in a meadow, and views of the Rhine, were so +absolutely stale that her eyes simply glided over them without +observing them. The holiday mood was already growing tedious. As +before, Anna Akimovna felt that she was beautiful, good-natured, +and wonderful, but now it seemed to her that that was of no use to +any one; it seemed to her that she did not know for whom and for +what she had put on this expensive dress, too, and, as always +happened on all holidays, she began to be fretted by loneliness and +the persistent thought that her beauty, her health, and her wealth, +were a mere cheat, since she was not wanted, was of no use to any +one, and nobody loved her. She walked through all the rooms, humming +and looking out of window; stopping in the drawing-room, she could +not resist beginning to talk to Mishenka. + +"I don't know what you think of yourself, Misha," she said, and +heaved a sigh. "Really, God might punish you for it." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You know what I mean. Excuse my meddling in your affairs. But it +seems you are spoiling your own life out of obstinacy. You'll admit +that it is high time you got married, and she is an excellent and +deserving girl. You will never find any one better. She's a beauty, +clever, gentle, and devoted. . . . And her appearance! . . . If she +belonged to our circle or a higher one, people would be falling in +love with her for her red hair alone. See how beautifully her hair +goes with her complexion. Oh, goodness! You don't understand anything, +and don't know what you want," Anna Akimovna said bitterly, and +tears came into her eyes. "Poor girl, I am so sorry for her! I know +you want a wife with money, but I have told you already I will give +Masha a dowry." + +Mishenka could not picture his future spouse in his imagination +except as a tall, plump, substantial, pious woman, stepping like a +peacock, and, for some reason, with a long shawl over her shoulders; +while Masha was thin, slender, tightly laced, and walked with little +steps, and, worst of all, she was too fascinating and at times +extremely attractive to Mishenka, and that, in his opinion, was +incongruous with matrimony and only in keeping with loose behaviour. +When Anna Akimovna had promised to give Masha a dowry, he had +hesitated for a time; but once a poor student in a brown overcoat +over his uniform, coming with a letter for Anna Akimovna, was +fascinated by Masha, and could not resist embracing her near the +hat-stand, and she had uttered a faint shriek; Mishenka, standing +on the stairs above, had seen this, and from that time had begun +to cherish a feeling of disgust for Masha. A poor student! Who +knows, if she had been embraced by a rich student or an officer the +consequences might have been different. + +"Why don't you wish it?" Anna Akimovna asked. "What more do you +want?" + +Mishenka was silent and looked at the arm-chair fixedly, and raised +his eyebrows. + +"Do you love some one else?" + +Silence. The red-haired Masha came in with letters and visiting +cards on a tray. Guessing that they were talking about her, she +blushed to tears. + +"The postmen have come," she muttered. "And there is a clerk called +Tchalikov waiting below. He says you told him to come to-day for +something." + +"What insolence!" said Anna Akimovna, moved to anger. "I gave him +no orders. Tell him to take himself off; say I am not at home!" + +A ring was heard. It was the priests from her parish. They were +always shown into the aristocratic part of the house--that is, +upstairs. After the priests, Nazaritch, the manager of the factory, +came to pay his visit, and then the factory doctor; then Mishenka +announced the inspector of the elementary schools. Visitors kept +arriving. + +When there was a moment free, Anna Akimovna sat down in a deep +arm-chair in the drawing-room, and shutting her eyes, thought that +her loneliness was quite natural because she had not married and +never would marry. . . . But that was not her fault. Fate itself +had flung her out of the simple working-class surroundings in which, +if she could trust her memory, she had felt so snug and at home, +into these immense rooms, where she could never think what to do +with herself, and could not understand why so many people kept +passing before her eyes. What was happening now seemed to her +trivial, useless, since it did not and could not give her happiness +for one minute. + +"If I could fall in love," she thought, stretching; the very thought +of this sent a rush of warmth to her heart. "And if I could escape +from the factory . . ." she mused, imagining how the weight of those +factory buildings, barracks, and schools would roll off her conscience, +roll off her mind. . . . Then she remembered her father, and thought +if he had lived longer he would certainly have married her to a +working man--to Pimenov, for instance. He would have told her to +marry, and that would have been all about it. And it would have +been a good thing; then the factory would have passed into capable +hands. + +She pictured his curly head, his bold profile, his delicate, ironical +lips and the strength, the tremendous strength, in his shoulders, +in his arms, in his chest, and the tenderness with which he had +looked at her watch that day. + +"Well," she said, "it would have been all right. I would have married +him." + +"Anna Akimovna," said Mishenka, coming noiselessly into the +drawing-room. + +"How you frightened me!" she said, trembling all over. "What do you +want?" + +"Anna Akimovna," he said, laying his hand on his heart and raising +his eyebrows, "you are my mistress and my benefactress, and no one +but you can tell me what I ought to do about marriage, for you are +as good as a mother to me. . . . But kindly forbid them to laugh +and jeer at me downstairs. They won't let me pass without it." + +"How do they jeer at you?" + +"They call me Mashenka's Mishenka." + +"Pooh, what nonsense!" cried Anna Akimovna indignantly. "How stupid +you all are! What a stupid you are, Misha! How sick I am of you! I +can't bear the sight of you." + +III + +Dinner + +Just as the year before, the last to pay her visits were Krylin, +an actual civil councillor, and Lysevitch, a well-known barrister. +It was already dark when they arrived. Krylin, a man of sixty, with +a wide mouth and with grey whiskers close to his ears, with a face +like a lynx, was wearing a uniform with an Anna ribbon, and white +trousers. He held Anna Akimovna's hand in both of his for a long +while, looked intently in her face, moved his lips, and at last +said, drawling upon one note: + +"I used to respect your uncle . . . and your father, and enjoyed +the privilege of their friendship. Now I feel it an agreeable duty, +as you see, to present my Christmas wishes to their honoured heiress +in spite of my infirmities and the distance I have to come. . . . +And I am very glad to see you in good health." + +The lawyer Lysevitch, a tall, handsome fair man, with a slight +sprinkling of grey on his temples and beard, was distinguished by +exceptionally elegant manners; he walked with a swaying step, bowed +as it were reluctantly, and shrugged his shoulders as he talked, +and all this with an indolent grace, like a spoiled horse fresh +from the stable. He was well fed, extremely healthy, and very well +off; on one occasion he had won forty thousand roubles, but concealed +the fact from his friends. He was fond of good fare, especially +cheese, truffles, and grated radish with hemp oil; while in Paris +he had eaten, so he said, baked but unwashed guts. He spoke smoothly, +fluently, without hesitation, and only occasionally, for the sake +of effect, permitted himself to hesitate and snap his fingers as +if picking up a word. He had long ceased to believe in anything he +had to say in the law courts, or perhaps he did believe in it, but +attached no kind of significance to it; it had all so long been +familiar, stale, ordinary. . . . He believed in nothing but what +was original and unusual. A copy-book moral in an original form +would move him to tears. Both his notebooks were filled with +extraordinary expressions which he had read in various authors; and +when he needed to look up any expression, he would search nervously +in both books, and usually failed to find it. Anna Akimovna's father +had in a good-humoured moment ostentatiously appointed him legal +adviser in matters concerning the factory, and had assigned him a +salary of twelve thousand roubles. The legal business of the factory +had been confined to two or three trivial actions for recovering +debts, which Lysevitch handed to his assistants. + +Anna Akimovna knew that he had nothing to do at the factory, but +she could not dismiss him--she had not the moral courage; and +besides, she was used to him. He used to call himself her legal +adviser, and his salary, which he invariably sent for on the first +of the month punctually, he used to call "stern prose." Anna Akimovna +knew that when, after her father's death, the timber of her forest +was sold for railway sleepers, Lysevitch had made more than fifteen +thousand out of the transaction, and had shared it with Nazaritch. +When first she found out they had cheated her she had wept bitterly, +but afterwards she had grown used to it. + +Wishing her a happy Christmas, and kissing both her hands, he looked +her up and down, and frowned. + +"You mustn't," he said with genuine disappointment. "I have told +you, my dear, you mustn't!" + +"What do you mean, Viktor Nikolaitch?" + +"I have told you you mustn't get fat. All your family have an +unfortunate tendency to grow fat. You mustn't," he repeated in an +imploring voice, and kissed her hand. "You are so handsome! You are +so splendid! Here, your Excellency, let me introduce the one woman +in the world whom I have ever seriously loved." + +"There is nothing surprising in that. To know Anna Akimovna at your +age and not to be in love with her, that would be impossible." + +"I adore her," the lawyer continued with perfect sincerity, but +with his usual indolent grace. "I love her, but not because I am a +man and she is a woman. When I am with her I always feel as though +she belongs to some third sex, and I to a fourth, and we float away +together into the domain of the subtlest shades, and there we blend +into the spectrum. Leconte de Lisle defines such relations better +than any one. He has a superb passage, a marvellous passage. . . ." + +Lysevitch rummaged in one notebook, then in the other, and, not +finding the quotation, subsided. They began talking of the weather, +of the opera, of the arrival, expected shortly, of Duse. Anna +Akimovna remembered that the year before Lysevitch and, she fancied, +Krylin had dined with her, and now when they were getting ready to +go away, she began with perfect sincerity pointing out to them in +an imploring voice that as they had no more visits to pay, they +ought to remain to dinner with her. After some hesitation the +visitors agreed. + +In addition to the family dinner, consisting of cabbage soup, sucking +pig, goose with apples, and so on, a so-called "French" or "chef's" +dinner used to be prepared in the kitchen on great holidays, in +case any visitor in the upper story wanted a meal. When they heard +the clatter of crockery in the dining-room, Lysevitch began to +betray a noticeable excitement; he rubbed his hands, shrugged his +shoulders, screwed up his eyes, and described with feeling what +dinners her father and uncle used to give at one time, and a +marvellous _matelote_ of turbots the cook here could make: it was +not a _matelote_, but a veritable revelation! He was already gloating +over the dinner, already eating it in imagination and enjoying it. +When Anna Akimovna took his arm and led him to the dining-room, he +tossed off a glass of vodka and put a piece of salmon in his mouth; +he positively purred with pleasure. He munched loudly, disgustingly, +emitting sounds from his nose, while his eyes grew oily and rapacious. + +The _hors d'oeuvres_ were superb; among other things, there were +fresh white mushrooms stewed in cream, and sauce _provençale_ made +of fried oysters and crayfish, strongly flavoured with some bitter +pickles. The dinner, consisting of elaborate holiday dishes, was +excellent, and so were the wines. Mishenka waited at table with +enthusiasm. When he laid some new dish on the table and lifted the +shining cover, or poured out the wine, he did it with the solemnity +of a professor of black magic, and, looking at his face and his +movements suggesting the first figure of a quadrille, the lawyer +thought several times, "What a fool!" + +After the third course Lysevitch said, turning to Anna Akimovna: + +"The _fin de siècle_ woman--I mean when she is young, and of +course wealthy--must be independent, clever, elegant, intellectual, +bold, and a little depraved. Depraved within limits, a little; for +excess, you know, is wearisome. You ought not to vegetate, my dear; +you ought not to live like every one else, but to get the full +savour of life, and a slight flavour of depravity is the sauce of +life. Revel among flowers of intoxicating fragrance, breathe the +perfume of musk, eat hashish, and best of all, love, love, love +. . . . To begin with, in your place I would set up seven lovers--one +for each day of the week; and one I would call Monday, one Tuesday, +the third Wednesday, and so on, so that each might know his day." + +This conversation troubled Anna Akimovna; she ate nothing and only +drank a glass of wine. + +"Let me speak at last," she said. "For myself personally, I can't +conceive of love without family life. I am lonely, lonely as the +moon in the sky, and a waning moon, too; and whatever you may say, +I am convinced, I feel that this waning can only be restored by +love in its ordinary sense. It seems to me that such love would +define my duties, my work, make clear my conception of life. I want +from love peace of soul, tranquillity; I want the very opposite of +musk, and spiritualism, and _fin de siècle_ . . . in short"--she +grew embarrassed--"a husband and children." + +"You want to be married? Well, you can do that, too," Lysevitch +assented. "You ought to have all experiences: marriage, and jealousy, +and the sweetness of the first infidelity, and even children. . . . +But make haste and live--make haste, my dear: time is passing; +it won't wait." + +"Yes, I'll go and get married!" she said, looking angrily at his +well-fed, satisfied face. "I will marry in the simplest, most +ordinary way and be radiant with happiness. And, would you believe +it, I will marry some plain working man, some mechanic or draughtsman." + +"There is no harm in that, either. The Duchess Josiana loved Gwinplin, +and that was permissible for her because she was a grand duchess. +Everything is permissible for you, too, because you are an exceptional +woman: if, my dear, you want to love a negro or an Arab, don't +scruple; send for a negro. Don't deny yourself anything. You ought +to be as bold as your desires; don't fall short of them." + +"Can it be so hard to understand me?" Anna Akimovna asked with +amazement, and her eyes were bright with tears. "Understand, I have +an immense business on my hands--two thousand workmen, for whom +I must answer before God. The men who work for me grow blind and +deaf. I am afraid to go on like this; I am afraid! I am wretched, +and you have the cruelty to talk to me of negroes and . . . and you +smile!" Anna Akimovna brought her fist down on the table. "To go +on living the life I am living now, or to marry some one as idle +and incompetent as myself, would be a crime. I can't go on living +like this," she said hotly, "I cannot!" + +"How handsome she is!" said Lysevitch, fascinated by her. "My God, +how handsome she is! But why are you angry, my dear? Perhaps I am +wrong; but surely you don't imagine that if, for the sake of ideas +for which I have the deepest respect, you renounce the joys of life +and lead a dreary existence, your workmen will be any the better +for it? Not a scrap! No, frivolity, frivolity!" he said decisively. +"It's essential for you; it's your duty to be frivolous and depraved! +Ponder that, my dear, ponder it." + +Anna Akimovna was glad she had spoken out, and her spirits rose. +She was pleased she had spoken so well, and that her ideas were so +fine and just, and she was already convinced that if Pimenov, for +instance, loved her, she would marry him with pleasure. + +Mishenka began to pour out champagne. + +"You make me angry, Viktor Nikolaitch," she said, clinking glasses +with the lawyer. "It seems to me you give advice and know nothing +of life yourself. According to you, if a man be a mechanic or a +draughtsman, he is bound to be a peasant and an ignoramus! But they +are the cleverest people! Extraordinary people!" + +"Your uncle and father . . . I knew them and respected them . . ." +Krylin said, pausing for emphasis (he had been sitting upright as +a post, and had been eating steadily the whole time), "were people +of considerable intelligence and . . . of lofty spiritual qualities." + +"Oh, to be sure, we know all about their qualities," the lawyer +muttered, and asked permission to smoke. + +When dinner was over Krylin was led away for a nap. Lysevitch +finished his cigar, and, staggering from repletion, followed Anna +Akimovna into her study. Cosy corners with photographs and fans on +the walls, and the inevitable pink or pale blue lanterns in the +middle of the ceiling, he did not like, as the expression of an +insipid and unoriginal character; besides, the memory of certain +of his love affairs of which he was now ashamed was associated with +such lanterns. Anna Akimovna's study with its bare walls and tasteless +furniture pleased him exceedingly. It was snug and comfortable for +him to sit on a Turkish divan and look at Anna Akimovna, who usually +sat on the rug before the fire, clasping her knees and looking into +the fire and thinking of something; and at such moments it seemed +to him that her peasant Old Believer blood was stirring within her. + +Every time after dinner when coffee and liqueurs were handed, he +grew livelier and began telling her various bits of literary gossip. +He spoke with eloquence and inspiration, and was carried away by +his own stories; and she listened to him and thought every time +that for such enjoyment it was worth paying not only twelve thousand, +but three times that sum, and forgave him everything she disliked +in him. He sometimes told her the story of some tale or novel he +had been reading, and then two or three hours passed unnoticed like +a minute. Now he began rather dolefully in a failing voice with his +eyes shut. + +"It's ages, my dear, since I have read anything," he said when she +asked him to tell her something. "Though I do sometimes read Jules +Verne." + +"I was expecting you to tell me something new." + +"H'm! . . . new," Lysevitch muttered sleepily, and he settled himself +further back in the corner of the sofa. "None of the new literature, +my dear, is any use for you or me. Of course, it is bound to be +such as it is, and to refuse to recognize it is to refuse to recognize +--would mean refusing to recognize the natural order of things, +and I do recognize it, but . . ." Lysevitch seemed to have fallen +asleep. But a minute later his voice was heard again: + +"All the new literature moans and howls like the autumn wind in the +chimney. 'Ah, unhappy wretch! Ah, your life may be likened to a +prison! Ah, how damp and dark it is in your prison! Ah, you will +certainly come to ruin, and there is no chance of escape for you!' +That's very fine, but I should prefer a literature that would tell +us how to escape from prison. Of all contemporary writers, however, +I prefer Maupassant." Lysevitch opened his eyes. "A fine writer, a +perfect writer!" Lysevitch shifted in his seat. "A wonderful artist! +A terrible, prodigious, supernatural artist!" Lysevitch got up from +the sofa and raised his right arm. "Maupassant!" he said rapturously. +"My dear, read Maupassant! one page of his gives you more than all +the riches of the earth! Every line is a new horizon. The softest, +tenderest impulses of the soul alternate with violent tempestuous +sensations; your soul, as though under the weight of forty thousand +atmospheres, is transformed into the most insignificant little bit +of some great thing of an undefined rosy hue which I fancy, if one +could put it on one's tongue, would yield a pungent, voluptuous +taste. What a fury of transitions, of motives, of melodies! You +rest peacefully on the lilies and the roses, and suddenly a thought +--a terrible, splendid, irresistible thought--swoops down upon +you like a locomotive, and bathes you in hot steam and deafens you +with its whistle. Read Maupassant, dear girl; I insist on it." + +Lysevitch waved his arms and paced from corner to corner in violent +excitement. + +"Yes, it is inconceivable," he pronounced, as though in despair; +"his last thing overwhelmed me, intoxicated me! But I am afraid you +will not care for it. To be carried away by it you must savour it, +slowly suck the juice from each line, drink it in. . . . You must +drink it in! . . ." + +After a long introduction, containing many words such as dæmonic +sensuality, a network of the most delicate nerves, simoom, crystal, +and so on, he began at last telling the story of the novel. He did +not tell the story so whimsically, but told it in minute detail, +quoting from memory whole descriptions and conversations; the +characters of the novel fascinated him, and to describe them he +threw himself into attitudes, changed the expression of his face +and voice like a real actor. He laughed with delight at one moment +in a deep bass, and at another, on a high shrill note, clasped his +hands and clutched at his head with an expression which suggested +that it was just going to burst. Anna Akimovna listened enthralled, +though she had already read the novel, and it seemed to her ever +so much finer and more subtle in the lawyer's version than in the +book itself. He drew her attention to various subtleties, and +emphasized the felicitous expressions and the profound thoughts, +but she saw in it, only life, life, life and herself, as though she +had been a character in the novel. Her spirits rose, and she, too, +laughing and clasping her hands, thought that she could not go on +living such a life, that there was no need to have a wretched life +when one might have a splendid one. She remembered her words and +thoughts at dinner, and was proud of them; and when Pimenov suddenly +rose up in her imagination, she felt happy and longed for him to +love her. + +When he had finished the story, Lysevitch sat down on the sofa, +exhausted. + +"How splendid you are! How handsome!" he began, a little while +afterwards in a faint voice as if he were ill. "I am happy near +you, dear girl, but why am I forty-two instead of thirty? Your +tastes and mine do not coincide: you ought to be depraved, and I +have long passed that phase, and want a love as delicate and +immaterial as a ray of sunshine--that is, from the point of view +of a woman of your age, I am of no earthly use." + +In his own words, he loved Turgenev, the singer of virginal love +and purity, of youth, and of the melancholy Russian landscape; but +he loved virginal love, not from knowledge but from hearsay, as +something abstract, existing outside real life. Now he assured +himself that he loved Anna Akimovna platonically, ideally, though +he did not know what those words meant. But he felt comfortable, +snug, warm. Anna Akimovna seemed to him enchanting, original, and +he imagined that the pleasant sensation that was aroused in him by +these surroundings was the very thing that was called platonic love. + +He laid his cheek on her hand and said in the tone commonly used +in coaxing little children: + +"My precious, why have you punished me?" + +"How? When?" + +"I have had no Christmas present from you." + +Anna Akimovna had never heard before of their sending a Christmas +box to the lawyer, and now she was at a loss how much to give him. +But she must give him something, for he was expecting it, though +he looked at her with eyes full of love. + +"I suppose Nazaritch forgot it," she said, "but it is not too late +to set it right." + +She suddenly remembered the fifteen hundred she had received the +day before, which was now lying in the toilet drawer in her bedroom. +And when she brought that ungrateful money and gave it to the lawyer, +and he put it in his coat pocket with indolent grace, the whole +incident passed off charmingly and naturally. The sudden reminder +of a Christmas box and this fifteen hundred was not unbecoming in +Lysevitch. + +"Merci," he said, and kissed her finger. + +Krylin came in with blissful, sleepy face, but without his decorations. + +Lysevitch and he stayed a little longer and drank a glass of tea +each, and began to get ready to go. Anna Akimovna was a little +embarrassed. . . . She had utterly forgotten in what department +Krylin served, and whether she had to give him money or not; and +if she had to, whether to give it now or send it afterwards in an +envelope. + +"Where does he serve?" she whispered to Lysevitch. + +"Goodness knows," muttered Lysevitch, yawning. + +She reflected that if Krylin used to visit her father and her uncle +and respected them, it was probably not for nothing: apparently he +had been charitable at their expense, serving in some charitable +institution. As she said good-bye she slipped three hundred roubles +into his hand; he seemed taken aback, and looked at her for a minute +in silence with his pewtery eyes, but then seemed to understand and +said: + +"The receipt, honoured Anna Akimovna, you can only receive on the +New Year." + +Lysevitch had become utterly limp and heavy, and he staggered when +Mishenka put on his overcoat. + +As he went downstairs he looked like a man in the last stage of +exhaustion, and it was evident that he would drop asleep as soon +as he got into his sledge. + +"Your Excellency," he said languidly to Krylin, stopping in the +middle of the staircase, "has it ever happened to you to experience +a feeling as though some unseen force were drawing you out longer +and longer? You are drawn out and turn into the finest wire. +Subjectively this finds expression in a curious voluptuous feeling +which is impossible to compare with anything." + +Anna Akimovna, standing at the top of the stairs, saw each of them +give Mishenka a note. + +"Good-bye! Come again!" she called to them, and ran into her bedroom. + +She quickly threw off her dress, that she was weary of already, put +on a dressing-gown, and ran downstairs; and as she ran downstairs +she laughed and thumped with her feet like a school-boy; she had a +great desire for mischief. + +IV + +Evening + +Auntie, in a loose print blouse, Varvarushka and two old women, +were sitting in the dining-room having supper. A big piece of salt +meat, a ham, and various savouries, were lying on the table before +them, and clouds of steam were rising from the meat, which looked +particularly fat and appetizing. Wine was not served on the lower +story, but they made up for it with a great number of spirits and +home-made liqueurs. Agafyushka, the fat, white-skinned, well-fed +cook, was standing with her arms crossed in the doorway and talking +to the old women, and the dishes were being handed by the downstairs +Masha, a dark girl with a crimson ribbon in her hair. The old women +had had enough to eat before the morning was over, and an hour +before supper had had tea and buns, and so they were now eating +with effort--as it were, from a sense of duty. + +"Oh, my girl!" sighed Auntie, as Anna Akimovna ran into the dining-room +and sat down beside her. "You've frightened me to death!" + +Every one in the house was pleased when Anna Akimovna was in good +spirits and played pranks; this always reminded them that the old +men were dead and that the old women had no authority in the house, +and any one could do as he liked without any fear of being sharply +called to account for it. Only the two old women glanced askance +at Anna Akimovna with amazement: she was humming, and it was a sin +to sing at table. + +"Our mistress, our beauty, our picture," Agafyushka began chanting +with sugary sweetness. "Our precious jewel! The people, the people +that have come to-day to look at our queen. Lord have mercy upon +us! Generals, and officers and gentlemen. . . . I kept looking out +of window and counting and counting till I gave it up." + +"I'd as soon they did not come at all," said Auntie; she looked +sadly at her niece and added: "They only waste the time for my poor +orphan girl." + +Anna Akimovna felt hungry, as she had eaten nothing since the +morning. They poured her out some very bitter liqueur; she drank +it off, and tasted the salt meat with mustard, and thought it +extraordinarily nice. Then the downstairs Masha brought in the +turkey, the pickled apples and the gooseberries. And that pleased +her, too. There was only one thing that was disagreeable: there was +a draught of hot air from the tiled stove; it was stiflingly close +and every one's cheeks were burning. After supper the cloth was +taken off and plates of peppermint biscuits, walnuts, and raisins +were brought in. + +"You sit down, too . . . no need to stand there!" said Auntie to +the cook. + +Agafyushka sighed and sat down to the table; Masha set a wineglass +of liqueur before her, too, and Anna Akimovna began to feel as +though Agafyushka's white neck were giving out heat like the stove. +They were all talking of how difficult it was nowadays to get +married, and saying that in old days, if men did not court beauty, +they paid attention to money, but now there was no making out what +they wanted; and while hunchbacks and cripples used to be left old +maids, nowadays men would not have even the beautiful and wealthy. +Auntie began to set this down to immorality, and said that people +had no fear of God, but she suddenly remembered that Ivan Ivanitch, +her brother, and Varvarushka--both people of holy life--had +feared God, but all the same had had children on the sly, and had +sent them to the Foundling Asylum. She pulled herself up and changed +the conversation, telling them about a suitor she had once had, a +factory hand, and how she had loved him, but her brothers had forced +her to marry a widower, an ikon-painter, who, thank God, had died +two years after. The downstairs Masha sat down to the table, too, +and told them with a mysterious air that for the last week some +unknown man with a black moustache, in a great-coat with an astrachan +collar, had made his appearance every morning in the yard, had +stared at the windows of the big house, and had gone on further-- +to the buildings; the man was all right, nice-looking. + +All this conversation made Anna Akimovna suddenly long to be married +--long intensely, painfully; she felt as though she would give +half her life and all her fortune only to know that upstairs there +was a man who was closer to her than any one in the world, that he +loved her warmly and was missing her; and the thought of such +closeness, ecstatic and inexpressible in words, troubled her soul. +And the instinct of youth and health flattered her with lying +assurances that the real poetry of life was not over but still to +come, and she believed it, and leaning back in her chair (her hair +fell down as she did so), she began laughing, and, looking at her, +the others laughed, too. And it was a long time before this causeless +laughter died down in the dining-room. + +She was informed that the Stinging Beetle had come. This was a +pilgrim woman called Pasha or Spiridonovna--a thin little woman +of fifty, in a black dress with a white kerchief, with keen eyes, +sharp nose, and a sharp chin; she had sly, viperish eyes and she +looked as though she could see right through every one. Her lips +were shaped like a heart. Her viperishness and hostility to every +one had earned her the nickname of the Stinging Beetle. + +Going into the dining-room without looking at any one, she made for +the ikons and chanted in a high voice "Thy Holy Birth," then she +sang "The Virgin today gives birth to the Son," then "Christ is +born," then she turned round and bent a piercing gaze upon all of +them. + +"A happy Christmas," she said, and she kissed Anna Akimovna on the +shoulder. "It's all I could do, all I could do to get to you, my +kind friends." She kissed Auntie on the shoulder. "I should have +come to you this morning, but I went in to some good people to rest +on the way. 'Stay, Spiridonovna, stay,' they said, and I did not +notice that evening was coming on." + +As she did not eat meat, they gave her salmon and caviare. She ate +looking from under her eyelids at the company, and drank three +glasses of vodka. When she had finished she said a prayer and bowed +down to Anna Akimovna's feet. + +They began to play a game of "kings," as they had done the year +before, and the year before that, and all the servants in both +stories crowded in at the doors to watch the game. Anna Akimovna +fancied she caught a glimpse once or twice of Mishenka, with a +patronizing smile on his face, among the crowd of peasant men and +women. The first to be king was Stinging Beetle, and Anna Akimovna +as the soldier paid her tribute; and then Auntie was king and Anna +Akimovna was peasant, which excited general delight, and Agafyushka +was prince, and was quite abashed with pleasure. Another game was +got up at the other end of the table--played by the two Mashas, +Varvarushka, and the sewing-maid Marfa Ptrovna, who was waked on +purpose to play "kings," and whose face looked cross and sleepy. + +While they were playing they talked of men, and of how difficult +it was to get a good husband nowadays, and which state was to be +preferred--that of an old maid or a widow. + +"You are a handsome, healthy, sturdy lass," said Stinging Beetle +to Anna Akimovna. "But I can't make out for whose sake you are +holding back." + +"What's to be done if nobody will have me?" + +"Or maybe you have taken a vow to remain a maid?" Stinging Beetle +went on, as though she did not hear. "Well, that's a good deed. . . . +Remain one," she repeated, looking intently and maliciously at +her cards. "All right, my dear, remain one. . . . Yes . . . only +maids, these saintly maids, are not all alike." She heaved a sigh +and played the king. "Oh, no, my girl, they are not all alike! Some +really watch over themselves like nuns, and butter would not melt +in their mouths; and if such a one does sin in an hour of weakness, +she is worried to death, poor thing! so it would be a sin to condemn +her. While others will go dressed in black and sew their shroud, +and yet love rich old men on the sly. Yes, y-es, my canary birds, +some hussies will bewitch an old man and rule over him, my doves, +rule over him and turn his head; and when they've saved up money +and lottery tickets enough, they will bewitch him to his death." + +Varvarushka's only response to these hints was to heave a sigh and +look towards the ikons. There was an expression of Christian meekness +on her countenance. + +"I know a maid like that, my bitterest enemy," Stinging Beetle went +on, looking round at every one in triumph; "she is always sighing, +too, and looking at the ikons, the she-devil. When she used to rule +in a certain old man's house, if one went to her she would give one +a crust, and bid one bow down to the ikons while she would sing: +'In conception Thou dost abide a Virgin . . . !' On holidays she +will give one a bite, and on working days she will reproach one for +it. But nowadays I will make merry over her! I will make as merry +as I please, my jewel." + +Varvarushka glanced at the ikons again and crossed herself. + +"But no one will have me, Spiridonovna," said Anna Akimovna to +change the conversation. "What's to be done?" + +"It's your own fault. You keep waiting for highly educated gentlemen, +but you ought to marry one of your own sort, a merchant." + +"We don't want a merchant," said Auntie, all in a flutter. "Queen +of Heaven, preserve us! A gentleman will spend your money, but then +he will be kind to you, you poor little fool. But a merchant will +be so strict that you won't feel at home in your own house. You'll +be wanting to fondle him and he will be counting his money, and +when you sit down to meals with him, he'll grudge you every mouthful, +though it's your own, the lout! . . . Marry a gentleman." + +They all talked at once, loudly interrupting one another, and Auntie +tapped on the table with the nutcrackers and said, flushed and +angry: + +"We won't have a merchant; we won't have one! If you choose a +merchant I shall go to an almshouse." + +"Sh . . . Sh! . . . Hush!" cried Stinging Beetle; when all were +silent she screwed up one eye and said: "Do you know what, Annushka, +my birdie . . . ? There is no need for you to get married really +like every one else. You're rich and free, you are your own mistress; +but yet, my child, it doesn't seem the right thing for you to be +an old maid. I'll find you, you know, some trumpery and simple-witted +man. You'll marry him for appearances and then have your fling, +bonny lass! You can hand him five thousand or ten maybe, and pack +him off where he came from, and you will be mistress in your own +house--you can love whom you like and no one can say anything to +you. And then you can love your highly educated gentleman. You'll +have a jolly time!" Stinging Beetle snapped her fingers and gave a +whistle. + +"It's sinful," said Auntie. + +"Oh, sinful," laughed Stinging Beetle. "She is educated, she +understands. To cut some one's throat or bewitch an old man-- +that's a sin, that's true; but to love some charming young friend +is not a sin at all. And what is there in it, really? There's no +sin in it at all! The old pilgrim women have invented all that to +make fools of simple folk. I, too, say everywhere it's a sin; I +don't know myself why it's a sin." Stinging Beetle emptied her glass +and cleared her throat. "Have your fling, bonny lass," this time +evidently addressing herself. "For thirty years, wenches, I have +thought of nothing but sins and been afraid, but now I see I have +wasted my time, I've let it slip by like a ninny! Ah, I have been +a fool, a fool!" She sighed. "A woman's time is short and every day +is precious. You are handsome, Annushka, and very rich; but as soon +as thirty-five or forty strikes for you your time is up. Don't +listen to any one, my girl; live, have your fling till you are +forty, and then you will have time to pray forgiveness--there +will be plenty of time to bow down and to sew your shroud. A candle +to God and a poker to the devil! You can do both at once! Well, how +is it to be? Will you make some little man happy?" + +"I will," laughed Anna Akimovna. "I don't care now; I would marry +a working man." + +"Well, that would do all right! Oh, what a fine fellow you would +choose then!" Stinging Beetle screwed up her eyes and shook her +head. "O--o--oh!" + +"I tell her myself," said Auntie, "it's no good waiting for a +gentleman, so she had better marry, not a gentleman, but some one +humbler; anyway we should have a man in the house to look after +things. And there are lots of good men. She might have some one out +of the factory. They are all sober, steady men. . . ." + +"I should think so," Stinging Beetle agreed. "They are capital +fellows. If you like, Aunt, I will make a match for her with Vassily +Lebedinsky?" + +"Oh, Vasya's legs are so long," said Auntie seriously. "He is so +lanky. He has no looks." + +There was laughter in the crowd by the door. + +"Well, Pimenov? Would you like to marry Pimenov?" Stinging Beetle +asked Anna Akimovna. + +"Very good. Make a match for me with Pimenov." + +"Really?" + +"Yes, do!" Anna Akimovna said resolutely, and she struck her fist +on the table. "On my honour, I will marry him." + +"Really?" + +Anna Akimovna suddenly felt ashamed that her cheeks were burning +and that every one was looking at her; she flung the cards together +on the table and ran out of the room. As she ran up the stairs and, +reaching the upper story, sat down to the piano in the drawing-room, +a murmur of sound reached her from below like the roar of the sea; +most likely they were talking of her and of Pimenov, and perhaps +Stinging Beetle was taking advantage of her absence to insult +Varvarushka and was putting no check on her language. + +The lamp in the big room was the only light burning in the upper +story, and it sent a glimmer through the door into the dark +drawing-room. It was between nine and ten, not later. Anna Akimovna +played a waltz, then another, then a third; she went on playing +without stopping. She looked into the dark corner beyond the piano, +smiled, and inwardly called to it, and the idea occurred to her +that she might drive off to the town to see some one, Lysevitch for +instance, and tell him what was passing in her heart. She wanted +to talk without ceasing, to laugh, to play the fool, but the dark +corner was sullenly silent, and all round in all the rooms of the +upper story it was still and desolate. + +She was fond of sentimental songs, but she had a harsh, untrained +voice, and so she only played the accompaniment and sang hardly +audibly, just above her breath. She sang in a whisper one song after +another, for the most part about love, separation, and frustrated +hopes, and she imagined how she would hold out her hands to him and +say with entreaty, with tears, "Pimenov, take this burden from me!" +And then, just as though her sins had been forgiven, there would +be joy and comfort in her soul, and perhaps a free, happy life would +begin. In an anguish of anticipation she leant over the keys, with +a passionate longing for the change in her life to come at once +without delay, and was terrified at the thought that her old life +would go on for some time longer. Then she played again and sang +hardly above her breath, and all was stillness about her. There was +no noise coming from downstairs now, they must have gone to bed. +It had struck ten some time before. A long, solitary, wearisome +night was approaching. + +Anna Akimovna walked through all the rooms, lay down for a while +on the sofa, and read in her study the letters that had come that +evening; there were twelve letters of Christmas greetings and three +anonymous letters. In one of them some workman complained in a +horrible, almost illegible handwriting that Lenten oil sold in the +factory shop was rancid and smelt of paraffin; in another, some one +respectfully informed her that over a purchase of iron Nazaritch +had lately taken a bribe of a thousand roubles from some one; in a +third she was abused for her inhumanity. + +The excitement of Christmas was passing off, and to keep it up Anna +Akimovna sat down at the piano again and softly played one of the +new waltzes, then she remembered how cleverly and creditably she +had spoken at dinner today. She looked round at the dark windows, +at the walls with the pictures, at the faint light that came from +the big room, and all at once she began suddenly crying, and she +felt vexed that she was so lonely, and that she had no one to talk +to and consult. To cheer herself she tried to picture Pimenov in +her imagination, but it was unsuccessful. + +It struck twelve. Mishenka, no longer wearing his swallow-tail but +in his reefer jacket, came in, and without speaking lighted two +candles; then he went out and returned a minute later with a cup +of tea on a tray. + +"What are you laughing at?" she asked, noticing a smile on his face. + +"I was downstairs and heard the jokes you were making about Pimenov +. . ." he said, and put his hand before his laughing mouth. "If he +were sat down to dinner today with Viktor Nikolaevitch and the +general, he'd have died of fright." Mishenka's shoulders were shaking +with laughter. "He doesn't know even how to hold his fork, I bet." + +The footman's laughter and words, his reefer jacket and moustache, +gave Anna Akimovna a feeling of uncleanness. She shut her eyes to +avoid seeing him, and, against her own will, imagined Pimenov dining +with Lysevitch and Krylin, and his timid, unintellectual figure +seemed to her pitiful and helpless, and she felt repelled by it. +And only now, for the first time in the whole day, she realized +clearly that all she had said and thought about Pimenov and marrying +a workman was nonsense, folly, and wilfulness. To convince herself +of the opposite, to overcome her repulsion, she tried to recall +what she had said at dinner, but now she could not see anything in +it: shame at her own thoughts and actions, and the fear that she +had said something improper during the day, and disgust at her own +lack of spirit, overwhelmed her completely. She took up a candle +and, as rapidly as if some one were pursuing her, ran downstairs, +woke Spiridonovna, and began assuring her she had been joking. Then +she went to her bedroom. Red-haired Masha, who was dozing in an +arm-chair near the bed, jumped up and began shaking up the pillows. +Her face was exhausted and sleepy, and her magnificent hair had +fallen on one side. + +"Tchalikov came again this evening," she said, yawning, "but I did +not dare to announce him; he was very drunk. He says he will come +again tomorrow." + +"What does he want with me?" said Anna Akimovna, and she flung her +comb on the floor. "I won't see him, I won't." + +She made up her mind she had no one left in life but this Tchalikov, +that he would never leave off persecuting her, and would remind her +every day how uninteresting and absurd her life was. So all she was +fit for was to help the poor. Oh, how stupid it was! + +She lay down without undressing, and sobbed with shame and depression: +what seemed to her most vexatious and stupid of all was that her +dreams that day about Pimenov had been right, lofty, honourable, +but at the same time she felt that Lysevitch and even Krylin were +nearer to her than Pimenov and all the workpeople taken together. +She thought that if the long day she had just spent could have been +represented in a picture, all that had been bad and vulgar--as, +for instance, the dinner, the lawyer's talk, the game of "kings" +--would have been true, while her dreams and talk about Pimenov +would have stood out from the whole as something false, as out of +drawing; and she thought, too, that it was too late to dream of +happiness, that everything was over for her, and it was impossible +to go back to the life when she had slept under the same quilt with +her mother, or to devise some new special sort of life. + +Red-haired Masha was kneeling before the bed, gazing at her in +mournful perplexity; then she, too, began crying, and laid her face +against her mistress's arm, and without words it was clear why she +was so wretched. + +"We are fools!" said Anna Akimovna, laughing and crying. "We are +fools! Oh, what fools we are!" + + +A PROBLEM + +THE strictest measures were taken that the Uskovs' family secret +might not leak out and become generally known. Half of the servants +were sent off to the theatre or the circus; the other half were +sitting in the kitchen and not allowed to leave it. Orders were +given that no one was to be admitted. The wife of the Colonel, her +sister, and the governess, though they had been initiated into the +secret, kept up a pretence of knowing nothing; they sat in the +dining-room and did not show themselves in the drawing-room or the +hall. + +Sasha Uskov, the young man of twenty-five who was the cause of all +the commotion, had arrived some time before, and by the advice of +kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch, his uncle, who was taking his part, +he sat meekly in the hall by the door leading to the study, and +prepared himself to make an open, candid explanation. + +The other side of the door, in the study, a family council was being +held. The subject under discussion was an exceedingly disagreeable +and delicate one. Sasha Uskov had cashed at one of the banks a false +promissory note, and it had become due for payment three days before, +and now his two paternal uncles and Ivan Markovitch, the brother +of his dead mother, were deciding the question whether they should +pay the money and save the family honour, or wash their hands of +it and leave the case to go for trial. + +To outsiders who have no personal interest in the matter such +questions seem simple; for those who are so unfortunate as to have +to decide them in earnest they are extremely difficult. The uncles +had been talking for a long time, but the problem seemed no nearer +decision. + +"My friends!" said the uncle who was a colonel, and there was a +note of exhaustion and bitterness in his voice. "Who says that +family honour is a mere convention? I don't say that at all. I am +only warning you against a false view; I am pointing out the +possibility of an unpardonable mistake. How can you fail to see it? +I am not speaking Chinese; I am speaking Russian!" + +"My dear fellow, we do understand," Ivan Markovitch protested mildly. + +"How can you understand if you say that I don't believe in family +honour? I repeat once more: fa-mil-y ho-nour fal-sely un-der-stood +is a prejudice! Falsely understood! That's what I say: whatever may +be the motives for screening a scoundrel, whoever he may be, and +helping him to escape punishment, it is contrary to law and unworthy +of a gentleman. It's not saving the family honour; it's civic +cowardice! Take the army, for instance. . . . The honour of the +army is more precious to us than any other honour, yet we don't +screen our guilty members, but condemn them. And does the honour +of the army suffer in consequence? Quite the opposite!" + +The other paternal uncle, an official in the Treasury, a taciturn, +dull-witted, and rheumatic man, sat silent, or spoke only of the +fact that the Uskovs' name would get into the newspapers if the +case went for trial. His opinion was that the case ought to be +hushed up from the first and not become public property; but, apart +from publicity in the newspapers, he advanced no other argument in +support of this opinion. + +The maternal uncle, kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch, spoke smoothly, +softly, and with a tremor in his voice. He began with saying that +youth has its rights and its peculiar temptations. Which of us has +not been young, and who has not been led astray? To say nothing of +ordinary mortals, even great men have not escaped errors and mistakes +in their youth. Take, for instance, the biography of great writers. +Did not every one of them gamble, drink, and draw down upon himself +the anger of right-thinking people in his young days? If Sasha's +error bordered upon crime, they must remember that Sasha had received +practically no education; he had been expelled from the high school +in the fifth class; he had lost his parents in early childhood, and +so had been left at the tenderest age without guidance and good, +benevolent influences. He was nervous, excitable, had no firm ground +under his feet, and, above all, he had been unlucky. Even if he +were guilty, anyway he deserved indulgence and the sympathy of all +compassionate souls. He ought, of course, to be punished, but he +was punished as it was by his conscience and the agonies he was +enduring now while awaiting the sentence of his relations. The +comparison with the army made by the Colonel was delightful, and +did credit to his lofty intelligence; his appeal to their feeling +of public duty spoke for the chivalry of his soul, but they must +not forget that in each individual the citizen is closely linked +with the Christian. . . . + +"Shall we be false to civic duty," Ivan Markovitch exclaimed +passionately, "if instead of punishing an erring boy we hold out +to him a helping hand?" + +Ivan Markovitch talked further of family honour. He had not the +honour to belong to the Uskov family himself, but he knew their +distinguished family went back to the thirteenth century; he did +not forget for a minute, either, that his precious, beloved sister +had been the wife of one of the representatives of that name. In +short, the family was dear to him for many reasons, and he refused +to admit the idea that, for the sake of a paltry fifteen hundred +roubles, a blot should be cast on the escutcheon that was beyond +all price. If all the motives he had brought forward were not +sufficiently convincing, he, Ivan Markovitch, in conclusion, begged +his listeners to ask themselves what was meant by crime? Crime is +an immoral act founded upon ill-will. But is the will of man free? +Philosophy has not yet given a positive answer to that question. +Different views were held by the learned. The latest school of +Lombroso, for instance, denies the freedom of the will, and considers +every crime as the product of the purely anatomical peculiarities +of the individual. + +"Ivan Markovitch," said the Colonel, in a voice of entreaty, "we +are talking seriously about an important matter, and you bring in +Lombroso, you clever fellow. Think a little, what are you saying +all this for? Can you imagine that all your thunderings and rhetoric +will furnish an answer to the question?" + +Sasha Uskov sat at the door and listened. He felt neither terror, +shame, nor depression, but only weariness and inward emptiness. It +seemed to him that it made absolutely no difference to him whether +they forgave him or not; he had come here to hear his sentence and +to explain himself simply because kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch had +begged him to do so. He was not afraid of the future. It made no +difference to him where he was: here in the hall, in prison, or in +Siberia. + +"If Siberia, then let it be Siberia, damn it all!" + +He was sick of life and found it insufferably hard. He was inextricably +involved in debt; he had not a farthing in his pocket; his family +had become detestable to him; he would have to part from his friends +and his women sooner or later, as they had begun to be too contemptuous +of his sponging on them. The future looked black. + +Sasha was indifferent, and was only disturbed by one circumstance; +the other side of the door they were calling him a scoundrel and a +criminal. Every minute he was on the point of jumping up, bursting +into the study and shouting in answer to the detestable metallic +voice of the Colonel: + +"You are lying!" + +"Criminal" is a dreadful word--that is what murderers, thieves, +robbers are; in fact, wicked and morally hopeless people. And Sasha +was very far from being all that. . . . It was true he owed a great +deal and did not pay his debts. But debt is not a crime, and it is +unusual for a man not to be in debt. The Colonel and Ivan Markovitch +were both in debt. . . . + +"What have I done wrong besides?" Sasha wondered. + +He had discounted a forged note. But all the young men he knew did +the same. Handrikov and Von Burst always forged IOU's from their +parents or friends when their allowances were not paid at the regular +time, and then when they got their money from home they redeemed +them before they became due. Sasha had done the same, but had not +redeemed the IOU because he had not got the money which Handrikov +had promised to lend him. He was not to blame; it was the fault of +circumstances. It was true that the use of another person's signature +was considered reprehensible; but, still, it was not a crime but a +generally accepted dodge, an ugly formality which injured no one +and was quite harmless, for in forging the Colonel's signature Sasha +had had no intention of causing anybody damage or loss. + +"No, it doesn't mean that I am a criminal . . ." thought Sasha. +"And it's not in my character to bring myself to commit a crime. I +am soft, emotional. . . . When I have the money I help the poor. . . ." + +Sasha was musing after this fashion while they went on talking the +other side of the door. + +"But, my friends, this is endless," the Colonel declared, getting +excited. "Suppose we were to forgive him and pay the money. You +know he would not give up leading a dissipated life, squandering +money, making debts, going to our tailors and ordering suits in our +names! Can you guarantee that this will be his last prank? As far +as I am concerned, I have no faith whatever in his reforming!" + +The official of the Treasury muttered something in reply; after him +Ivan Markovitch began talking blandly and suavely again. The Colonel +moved his chair impatiently and drowned the other's words with his +detestable metallic voice. At last the door opened and Ivan Markovitch +came out of the study; there were patches of red on his lean shaven +face. + +"Come along," he said, taking Sasha by the hand. "Come and speak +frankly from your heart. Without pride, my dear boy, humbly and +from your heart." + +Sasha went into the study. The official of the Treasury was sitting +down; the Colonel was standing before the table with one hand in +his pocket and one knee on a chair. It was smoky and stifling in +the study. Sasha did not look at the official or the Colonel; he +felt suddenly ashamed and uncomfortable. He looked uneasily at Ivan +Markovitch and muttered: + +"I'll pay it . . . I'll give it back. . . ." + +"What did you expect when you discounted the IOU?" he heard a +metallic voice. + +"I . . . Handrikov promised to lend me the money before now." + +Sasha could say no more. He went out of the study and sat down again +on the chair near the door. + +He would have been glad to go away altogether at once, but he was +choking with hatred and he awfully wanted to remain, to tear the +Colonel to pieces, to say something rude to him. He sat trying to +think of something violent and effective to say to his hated uncle, +and at that moment a woman's figure, shrouded in the twilight, +appeared at the drawing-room door. It was the Colonel's wife. She +beckoned Sasha to her, and, wringing her hands, said, weeping: + +"_Alexandre_, I know you don't like me, but . . . listen to me; +listen, I beg you. . . . But, my dear, how can this have happened? +Why, it's awful, awful! For goodness' sake, beg them, defend yourself, +entreat them." + +Sasha looked at her quivering shoulders, at the big tears that were +rolling down her cheeks, heard behind his back the hollow, nervous +voices of worried and exhausted people, and shrugged his shoulders. +He had not in the least expected that his aristocratic relations +would raise such a tempest over a paltry fifteen hundred roubles! +He could not understand her tears nor the quiver of their voices. + +An hour later he heard that the Colonel was getting the best of it; +the uncles were finally inclining to let the case go for trial. + +"The matter's settled," said the Colonel, sighing. "Enough." + +After this decision all the uncles, even the emphatic Colonel, +became noticeably depressed. A silence followed. + +"Merciful Heavens!" sighed Ivan Markovitch. "My poor sister!" + +And he began saying in a subdued voice that most likely his sister, +Sasha's mother, was present unseen in the study at that moment. He +felt in his soul how the unhappy, saintly woman was weeping, grieving, +and begging for her boy. For the sake of her peace beyond the grave, +they ought to spare Sasha. + +The sound of a muffled sob was heard. Ivan Markovitch was weeping +and muttering something which it was impossible to catch through +the door. The Colonel got up and paced from corner to corner. The +long conversation began over again. + +But then the clock in the drawing-room struck two. The family council +was over. To avoid seeing the person who had moved him to such +wrath, the Colonel went from the study, not into the hall, but into +the vestibule. . . . Ivan Markovitch came out into the hall. . . . +He was agitated and rubbing his hands joyfully. His tear-stained +eyes looked good-humoured and his mouth was twisted into a smile. + +"Capital," he said to Sasha. "Thank God! You can go home, my dear, +and sleep tranquilly. We have decided to pay the sum, but on condition +that you repent and come with me tomorrow into the country and set +to work." + +A minute later Ivan Markovitch and Sasha in their great-coats and +caps were going down the stairs. The uncle was muttering something +edifying. Sasha did not listen, but felt as though some uneasy +weight were gradually slipping off his shoulders. They had forgiven +him; he was free! A gust of joy sprang up within him and sent a +sweet chill to his heart. He longed to breathe, to move swiftly, +to live! Glancing at the street lamps and the black sky, he remembered +that Von Burst was celebrating his name-day that evening at the +"Bear," and again a rush of joy flooded his soul. . . . + +"I am going!" he decided. + +But then he remembered he had not a farthing, that the companions +he was going to would despise him at once for his empty pockets. +He must get hold of some money, come what may! + +"Uncle, lend me a hundred roubles," he said to Ivan Markovitch. + +His uncle, surprised, looked into his face and backed against a +lamp-post. + +"Give it to me," said Sasha, shifting impatiently from one foot to +the other and beginning to pant. "Uncle, I entreat you, give me a +hundred roubles." + +His face worked; he trembled, and seemed on the point of attacking +his uncle. . . . + +"Won't you?" he kept asking, seeing that his uncle was still amazed +and did not understand. "Listen. If you don't, I'll give myself up +tomorrow! I won't let you pay the IOU! I'll present another false +note tomorrow!" + +Petrified, muttering something incoherent in his horror, Ivan +Markovitch took a hundred-rouble note out of his pocket-book and +gave it to Sasha. The young man took it and walked rapidly away +from him. . . . + +Taking a sledge, Sasha grew calmer, and felt a rush of joy within +him again. The "rights of youth" of which kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch +had spoken at the family council woke up and asserted themselves. +Sasha pictured the drinking-party before him, and, among the bottles, +the women, and his friends, the thought flashed through his mind: + +"Now I see that I am a criminal; yes, I am a criminal." + + +THE KISS + +AT eight o'clock on the evening of the twentieth of May all the six +batteries of the N---- Reserve Artillery Brigade halted for the +night in the village of Myestetchki on their way to camp. When the +general commotion was at its height, while some officers were busily +occupied around the guns, while others, gathered together in the +square near the church enclosure, were listening to the quartermasters, +a man in civilian dress, riding a strange horse, came into sight +round the church. The little dun-coloured horse with a good neck +and a short tail came, moving not straight forward, but as it were +sideways, with a sort of dance step, as though it were being lashed +about the legs. When he reached the officers the man on the horse +took off his hat and said: + +"His Excellency Lieutenant-General von Rabbek invites the gentlemen +to drink tea with him this minute. . . ." + +The horse turned, danced, and retired sideways; the messenger raised +his hat once more, and in an instant disappeared with his strange +horse behind the church. + +"What the devil does it mean?" grumbled some of the officers, +dispersing to their quarters. "One is sleepy, and here this Von +Rabbek with his tea! We know what tea means." + +The officers of all the six batteries remembered vividly an incident +of the previous year, when during manoeuvres they, together with +the officers of a Cossack regiment, were in the same way invited +to tea by a count who had an estate in the neighbourhood and was a +retired army officer: the hospitable and genial count made much of +them, fed them, and gave them drink, refused to let them go to their +quarters in the village and made them stay the night. All that, of +course, was very nice--nothing better could be desired, but the +worst of it was, the old army officer was so carried away by the +pleasure of the young men's company that till sunrise he was telling +the officers anecdotes of his glorious past, taking them over the +house, showing them expensive pictures, old engravings, rare guns, +reading them autograph letters from great people, while the weary +and exhausted officers looked and listened, longing for their beds +and yawning in their sleeves; when at last their host let them go, +it was too late for sleep. + +Might not this Von Rabbek be just such another? Whether he were or +not, there was no help for it. The officers changed their uniforms, +brushed themselves, and went all together in search of the gentleman's +house. In the square by the church they were told they could get +to His Excellency's by the lower path--going down behind the +church to the river, going along the bank to the garden, and there +an avenue would taken them to the house; or by the upper way-- +straight from the church by the road which, half a mile from the +village, led right up to His Excellency's granaries. The officers +decided to go by the upper way. + +"What Von Rabbek is it?" they wondered on the way. "Surely not the +one who was in command of the N---- cavalry division at Plevna?" + +"No, that was not Von Rabbek, but simply Rabbe and no 'von.'" + +"What lovely weather!" + +At the first of the granaries the road divided in two: one branch +went straight on and vanished in the evening darkness, the other +led to the owner's house on the right. The officers turned to the +right and began to speak more softly. . . . On both sides of the +road stretched stone granaries with red roofs, heavy and sullen-looking, +very much like barracks of a district town. Ahead of them gleamed +the windows of the manor-house. + +"A good omen, gentlemen," said one of the officers. "Our setter is +the foremost of all; no doubt he scents game ahead of us! . . ." + +Lieutenant Lobytko, who was walking in front, a tall and stalwart +fellow, though entirely without moustache (he was over five-and-twenty, +yet for some reason there was no sign of hair on his round, well-fed +face), renowned in the brigade for his peculiar faculty for divining +the presence of women at a distance, turned round and said: + +"Yes, there must be women here; I feel that by instinct." + +On the threshold the officers were met by Von Rabbek himself, a +comely-looking man of sixty in civilian dress. Shaking hands with +his guests, he said that he was very glad and happy to see them, +but begged them earnestly for God's sake to excuse him for not +asking them to stay the night; two sisters with their children, +some brothers, and some neighbours, had come on a visit to him, so +that he had not one spare room left. + +The General shook hands with every one, made his apologies, and +smiled, but it was evident by his face that he was by no means so +delighted as their last year's count, and that he had invited the +officers simply because, in his opinion, it was a social obligation +to do so. And the officers themselves, as they walked up the softly +carpeted stairs, as they listened to him, felt that they had been +invited to this house simply because it would have been awkward not +to invite them; and at the sight of the footmen, who hastened to +light the lamps in the entrance below and in the anteroom above, +they began to feel as though they had brought uneasiness and +discomfort into the house with them. In a house in which two sisters +and their children, brothers, and neighbours were gathered together, +probably on account of some family festivity, or event, how could +the presence of nineteen unknown officers possibly be welcome? + +At the entrance to the drawing-room the officers were met by a tall, +graceful old lady with black eyebrows and a long face, very much +like the Empress Eugénie. Smiling graciously and majestically, she +said she was glad and happy to see her guests, and apologized that +her husband and she were on this occasion unable to invite _messieurs +les officiers_ to stay the night. From her beautiful majestic smile, +which instantly vanished from her face every time she turned away +from her guests, it was evident that she had seen numbers of officers +in her day, that she was in no humour for them now, and if she +invited them to her house and apologized for not doing more, it was +only because her breeding and position in society required it of +her. + +When the officers went into the big dining-room, there were about +a dozen people, men and ladies, young and old, sitting at tea at +the end of a long table. A group of men was dimly visible behind +their chairs, wrapped in a haze of cigar smoke; and in the midst +of them stood a lanky young man with red whiskers, talking loudly, +with a lisp, in English. Through a door beyond the group could be +seen a light room with pale blue furniture. + +"Gentlemen, there are so many of you that it is impossible to +introduce you all!" said the General in a loud voice, trying to +sound very cheerful. "Make each other's acquaintance, gentlemen, +without any ceremony!" + +The officers--some with very serious and even stern faces, others +with forced smiles, and all feeling extremely awkward--somehow +made their bows and sat down to tea. + +The most ill at ease of them all was Ryabovitch--a little officer +in spectacles, with sloping shoulders, and whiskers like a lynx's. +While some of his comrades assumed a serious expression, while +others wore forced smiles, his face, his lynx-like whiskers, and +spectacles seemed to say: "I am the shyest, most modest, and most +undistinguished officer in the whole brigade!" At first, on going +into the room and sitting down to the table, he could not fix his +attention on any one face or object. The faces, the dresses, the +cut-glass decanters of brandy, the steam from the glasses, the +moulded cornices--all blended in one general impression that +inspired in Ryabovitch alarm and a desire to hide his head. Like a +lecturer making his first appearance before the public, he saw +everything that was before his eyes, but apparently only had a dim +understanding of it (among physiologists this condition, when the +subject sees but does not understand, is called psychical blindness). +After a little while, growing accustomed to his surroundings, +Ryabovitch saw clearly and began to observe. As a shy man, unused +to society, what struck him first was that in which he had always +been deficient--namely, the extraordinary boldness of his new +acquaintances. Von Rabbek, his wife, two elderly ladies, a young +lady in a lilac dress, and the young man with the red whiskers, who +was, it appeared, a younger son of Von Rabbek, very cleverly, as +though they had rehearsed it beforehand, took seats between the +officers, and at once got up a heated discussion in which the +visitors could not help taking part. The lilac young lady hotly +asserted that the artillery had a much better time than the cavalry +and the infantry, while Von Rabbek and the elderly ladies maintained +the opposite. A brisk interchange of talk followed. Ryabovitch +watched the lilac young lady who argued so hotly about what was +unfamiliar and utterly uninteresting to her, and watched artificial +smiles come and go on her face. + +Von Rabbek and his family skilfully drew the officers into the +discussion, and meanwhile kept a sharp lookout over their glasses +and mouths, to see whether all of them were drinking, whether all +had enough sugar, why some one was not eating cakes or not drinking +brandy. And the longer Ryabovitch watched and listened, the more +he was attracted by this insincere but splendidly disciplined family. + +After tea the officers went into the drawing-room. Lieutenant +Lobytko's instinct had not deceived him. There were a great number +of girls and young married ladies. The "setter" lieutenant was soon +standing by a very young, fair girl in a black dress, and, bending +down to her jauntily, as though leaning on an unseen sword, smiled +and shrugged his shoulders coquettishly. He probably talked very +interesting nonsense, for the fair girl looked at his well-fed face +condescendingly and asked indifferently, "Really?" And from that +uninterested "Really?" the setter, had he been intelligent, might +have concluded that she would never call him to heel. + +The piano struck up; the melancholy strains of a valse floated out +of the wide open windows, and every one, for some reason, remembered +that it was spring, a May evening. Every one was conscious of the +fragrance of roses, of lilac, and of the young leaves of the poplar. +Ryabovitch, in whom the brandy he had drunk made itself felt, under +the influence of the music stole a glance towards the window, smiled, +and began watching the movements of the women, and it seemed to him +that the smell of roses, of poplars, and lilac came not from the +garden, but from the ladies' faces and dresses. + +Von Rabbek's son invited a scraggy-looking young lady to dance, and +waltzed round the room twice with her. Lobytko, gliding over the +parquet floor, flew up to the lilac young lady and whirled her away. +Dancing began. . . . Ryabovitch stood near the door among those who +were not dancing and looked on. He had never once danced in his +whole life, and he had never once in his life put his arm round the +waist of a respectable woman. He was highly delighted that a man +should in the sight of all take a girl he did not know round the +waist and offer her his shoulder to put her hand on, but he could +not imagine himself in the position of such a man. There were times +when he envied the boldness and swagger of his companions and was +inwardly wretched; the consciousness that he was timid, that he was +round-shouldered and uninteresting, that he had a long waist and +lynx-like whiskers, had deeply mortified him, but with years he had +grown used to this feeling, and now, looking at his comrades dancing +or loudly talking, he no longer envied them, but only felt touched +and mournful. + +When the quadrille began, young Von Rabbek came up to those who +were not dancing and invited two officers to have a game at billiards. +The officers accepted and went with him out of the drawing-room. +Ryabovitch, having nothing to do and wishing to take part in the +general movement, slouched after them. From the big drawing-room +they went into the little drawing-room, then into a narrow corridor +with a glass roof, and thence into a room in which on their entrance +three sleepy-looking footmen jumped up quickly from the sofa. At +last, after passing through a long succession of rooms, young Von +Rabbek and the officers came into a small room where there was a +billiard-table. They began to play. + +Ryabovitch, who had never played any game but cards, stood near the +billiard-table and looked indifferently at the players, while they +in unbuttoned coats, with cues in their hands, stepped about, made +puns, and kept shouting out unintelligible words. + +The players took no notice of him, and only now and then one of +them, shoving him with his elbow or accidentally touching him with +the end of his cue, would turn round and say "Pardon!" Before the +first game was over he was weary of it, and began to feel he was +not wanted and in the way. . . . He felt disposed to return to the +drawing-room, and he went out. + +On his way back he met with a little adventure. When he had gone +half-way he noticed he had taken a wrong turning. He distinctly +remembered that he ought to meet three sleepy footmen on his way, +but he had passed five or six rooms, and those sleepy figures seemed +to have vanished into the earth. Noticing his mistake, he walked +back a little way and turned to the right; he found himself in a +little dark room which he had not seen on his way to the billiard-room. +After standing there a little while, he resolutely opened the first +door that met his eyes and walked into an absolutely dark room. +Straight in front could be seen the crack in the doorway through +which there was a gleam of vivid light; from the other side of the +door came the muffled sound of a melancholy mazurka. Here, too, as +in the drawing-room, the windows were wide open and there was a +smell of poplars, lilac and roses. . . . + +Ryabovitch stood still in hesitation. . . . At that moment, to his +surprise, he heard hurried footsteps and the rustling of a dress, +a breathless feminine voice whispered "At last!" And two soft, +fragrant, unmistakably feminine arms were clasped about his neck; +a warm cheek was pressed to his cheek, and simultaneously there was +the sound of a kiss. But at once the bestower of the kiss uttered +a faint shriek and skipped back from him, as it seemed to Ryabovitch, +with aversion. He, too, almost shrieked and rushed towards the gleam +of light at the door. . . . + +When he went back into the drawing-room his heart was beating and +his hands were trembling so noticeably that he made haste to hide +them behind his back. At first he was tormented by shame and dread +that the whole drawing-room knew that he had just been kissed and +embraced by a woman. He shrank into himself and looked uneasily +about him, but as he became convinced that people were dancing and +talking as calmly as ever, he gave himself up entirely to the new +sensation which he had never experienced before in his life. Something +strange was happening to him. . . . His neck, round which soft, +fragrant arms had so lately been clasped, seemed to him to be +anointed with oil; on his left cheek near his moustache where the +unknown had kissed him there was a faint chilly tingling sensation +as from peppermint drops, and the more he rubbed the place the more +distinct was the chilly sensation; all over, from head to foot, he +was full of a strange new feeling which grew stronger and stronger +. . . . He wanted to dance, to talk, to run into the garden, to laugh +aloud. . . . He quite forgot that he was round-shouldered and +uninteresting, that he had lynx-like whiskers and an "undistinguished +appearance" (that was how his appearance had been described by some +ladies whose conversation he had accidentally overheard). When Von +Rabbek's wife happened to pass by him, he gave her such a broad and +friendly smile that she stood still and looked at him inquiringly. + +"I like your house immensely!" he said, setting his spectacles +straight. + +The General's wife smiled and said that the house had belonged to +her father; then she asked whether his parents were living, whether +he had long been in the army, why he was so thin, and so on. . . . +After receiving answers to her questions, she went on, and after +his conversation with her his smiles were more friendly than ever, +and he thought he was surrounded by splendid people. . . . + +At supper Ryabovitch ate mechanically everything offered him, drank, +and without listening to anything, tried to understand what had +just happened to him. . . . The adventure was of a mysterious and +romantic character, but it was not difficult to explain it. No doubt +some girl or young married lady had arranged a tryst with some one +in the dark room; had waited a long time, and being nervous and +excited had taken Ryabovitch for her hero; this was the more probable +as Ryabovitch had stood still hesitating in the dark room, so that +he, too, had seemed like a person expecting something. . . . This +was how Ryabovitch explained to himself the kiss he had received. + +"And who is she?" he wondered, looking round at the women's faces. +"She must be young, for elderly ladies don't give rendezvous. That +she was a lady, one could tell by the rustle of her dress, her +perfume, her voice. . . ." + +His eyes rested on the lilac young lady, and he thought her very +attractive; she had beautiful shoulders and arms, a clever face, +and a delightful voice. Ryabovitch, looking at her, hoped that she +and no one else was his unknown. . . . But she laughed somehow +artificially and wrinkled up her long nose, which seemed to him to +make her look old. Then he turned his eyes upon the fair girl in a +black dress. She was younger, simpler, and more genuine, had a +charming brow, and drank very daintily out of her wineglass. +Ryabovitch now hoped that it was she. But soon he began to think +her face flat, and fixed his eyes upon the one next her. + +"It's difficult to guess," he thought, musing. "If one takes the +shoulders and arms of the lilac one only, adds the brow of the fair +one and the eyes of the one on the left of Lobytko, then . . ." + +He made a combination of these things in his mind and so formed the +image of the girl who had kissed him, the image that he wanted her +to have, but could not find at the table. . . . + +After supper, replete and exhilarated, the officers began to take +leave and say thank you. Von Rabbek and his wife began again +apologizing that they could not ask them to stay the night. + +"Very, very glad to have met you, gentlemen," said Von Rabbek, and +this time sincerely (probably because people are far more sincere +and good-humoured at speeding their parting guests than on meeting +them). "Delighted. I hope you will come on your way back! Don't +stand on ceremony! Where are you going? Do you want to go by the +upper way? No, go across the garden; it's nearer here by the lower +way." + +The officers went out into the garden. After the bright light and +the noise the garden seemed very dark and quiet. They walked in +silence all the way to the gate. They were a little drunk, pleased, +and in good spirits, but the darkness and silence made them thoughtful +for a minute. Probably the same idea occurred to each one of them +as to Ryabovitch: would there ever come a time for them when, like +Von Rabbek, they would have a large house, a family, a garden-- +when they, too, would be able to welcome people, even though +insincerely, feed them, make them drunk and contented? + +Going out of the garden gate, they all began talking at once and +laughing loudly about nothing. They were walking now along the +little path that led down to the river, and then ran along the +water's edge, winding round the bushes on the bank, the pools, and +the willows that overhung the water. The bank and the path were +scarcely visible, and the other bank was entirely plunged in darkness. +Stars were reflected here and there on the dark water; they quivered +and were broken up on the surface--and from that alone it could +be seen that the river was flowing rapidly. It was still. Drowsy +curlews cried plaintively on the further bank, and in one of the +bushes on the nearest side a nightingale was trilling loudly, taking +no notice of the crowd of officers. The officers stood round the +bush, touched it, but the nightingale went on singing. + +"What a fellow!" they exclaimed approvingly. "We stand beside him +and he takes not a bit of notice! What a rascal!" + +At the end of the way the path went uphill, and, skirting the church +enclosure, turned into the road. Here the officers, tired with +walking uphill, sat down and lighted their cigarettes. On the other +side of the river a murky red fire came into sight, and having +nothing better to do, they spent a long time in discussing whether +it was a camp fire or a light in a window, or something else. . . . +Ryabovitch, too, looked at the light, and he fancied that the +light looked and winked at him, as though it knew about the kiss. + +On reaching his quarters, Ryabovitch undressed as quickly as possible +and got into bed. Lobytko and Lieutenant Merzlyakov--a peaceable, +silent fellow, who was considered in his own circle a highly educated +officer, and was always, whenever it was possible, reading the +"Vyestnik Evropi," which he carried about with him everywhere-- +were quartered in the same hut with Ryabovitch. Lobytko undressed, +walked up and down the room for a long while with the air of a man +who has not been satisfied, and sent his orderly for beer. Merzlyakov +got into bed, put a candle by his pillow and plunged into reading +the "Vyestnik Evropi." + +"Who was she?" Ryabovitch wondered, looking at the smoky ceiling. + +His neck still felt as though he had been anointed with oil, and +there was still the chilly sensation near his mouth as though from +peppermint drops. The shoulders and arms of the young lady in lilac, +the brow and the truthful eyes of the fair girl in black, waists, +dresses, and brooches, floated through his imagination. He tried +to fix his attention on these images, but they danced about, broke +up and flickered. When these images vanished altogether from the +broad dark background which every man sees when he closes his eyes, +he began to hear hurried footsteps, the rustle of skirts, the sound +of a kiss and--an intense groundless joy took possession of him +. . . . Abandoning himself to this joy, he heard the orderly return +and announce that there was no beer. Lobytko was terribly indignant, +and began pacing up and down again. + +"Well, isn't he an idiot?" he kept saying, stopping first before +Ryabovitch and then before Merzlyakov. "What a fool and a dummy a +man must be not to get hold of any beer! Eh? Isn't he a scoundrel?" + +"Of course you can't get beer here," said Merzlyakov, not removing +his eyes from the "Vyestnik Evropi." + +"Oh! Is that your opinion?" Lobytko persisted. "Lord have mercy +upon us, if you dropped me on the moon I'd find you beer and women +directly! I'll go and find some at once. . . . You may call me an +impostor if I don't!" + +He spent a long time in dressing and pulling on his high boots, +then finished smoking his cigarette in silence and went out. + +"Rabbek, Grabbek, Labbek," he muttered, stopping in the outer room. +"I don't care to go alone, damn it all! Ryabovitch, wouldn't you +like to go for a walk? Eh?" + +Receiving no answer, he returned, slowly undressed and got into +bed. Merzlyakov sighed, put the "Vyestnik Evropi" away, and put out +the light. + +"H'm! . . ." muttered Lobytko, lighting a cigarette in the dark. + +Ryabovitch pulled the bed-clothes over his head, curled himself up +in bed, and tried to gather together the floating images in his +mind and to combine them into one whole. But nothing came of it. +He soon fell asleep, and his last thought was that some one had +caressed him and made him happy--that something extraordinary, +foolish, but joyful and delightful, had come into his life. The +thought did not leave him even in his sleep. + +When he woke up the sensations of oil on his neck and the chill of +peppermint about his lips had gone, but joy flooded his heart just +as the day before. He looked enthusiastically at the window-frames, +gilded by the light of the rising sun, and listened to the movement +of the passers-by in the street. People were talking loudly close +to the window. Lebedetsky, the commander of Ryabovitch's battery, +who had only just overtaken the brigade, was talking to his sergeant +at the top of his voice, being always accustomed to shout. + +"What else?" shouted the commander. + +"When they were shoeing yesterday, your high nobility, they drove +a nail into Pigeon's hoof. The vet. put on clay and vinegar; they +are leading him apart now. And also, your honour, Artemyev got drunk +yesterday, and the lieutenant ordered him to be put in the limber +of a spare gun-carriage." + +The sergeant reported that Karpov had forgotten the new cords for +the trumpets and the rings for the tents, and that their honours, +the officers, had spent the previous evening visiting General Von +Rabbek. In the middle of this conversation the red-bearded face of +Lebedetsky appeared in the window. He screwed up his short-sighted +eyes, looking at the sleepy faces of the officers, and said +good-morning to them. + +"Is everything all right?" he asked. + +"One of the horses has a sore neck from the new collar," answered +Lobytko, yawning. + +The commander sighed, thought a moment, and said in a loud voice: + +"I am thinking of going to see Alexandra Yevgrafovna. I must call +on her. Well, good-bye. I shall catch you up in the evening." + +A quarter of an hour later the brigade set off on its way. When it +was moving along the road by the granaries, Ryabovitch looked at +the house on the right. The blinds were down in all the windows. +Evidently the household was still asleep. The one who had kissed +Ryabovitch the day before was asleep, too. He tried to imagine her +asleep. The wide-open windows of the bedroom, the green branches +peeping in, the morning freshness, the scent of the poplars, lilac, +and roses, the bed, a chair, and on it the skirts that had rustled +the day before, the little slippers, the little watch on the table +--all this he pictured to himself clearly and distinctly, but the +features of the face, the sweet sleepy smile, just what was +characteristic and important, slipped through his imagination like +quicksilver through the fingers. When he had ridden on half a mile, +he looked back: the yellow church, the house, and the river, were +all bathed in light; the river with its bright green banks, with +the blue sky reflected in it and glints of silver in the sunshine +here and there, was very beautiful. Ryabovitch gazed for the last +time at Myestetchki, and he felt as sad as though he were parting +with something very near and dear to him. + +And before him on the road lay nothing but long familiar, uninteresting +pictures. . . . To right and to left, fields of young rye and +buckwheat with rooks hopping about in them. If one looked ahead, +one saw dust and the backs of men's heads; if one looked back, one +saw the same dust and faces. . . . Foremost of all marched four men +with sabres--this was the vanguard. Next, behind, the crowd of +singers, and behind them the trumpeters on horseback. The vanguard +and the chorus of singers, like torch-bearers in a funeral procession, +often forgot to keep the regulation distance and pushed a long way +ahead. . . . Ryabovitch was with the first cannon of the fifth +battery. He could see all the four batteries moving in front of +him. For any one not a military man this long tedious procession +of a moving brigade seems an intricate and unintelligible muddle; +one cannot understand why there are so many people round one cannon, +and why it is drawn by so many horses in such a strange network of +harness, as though it really were so terrible and heavy. To Ryabovitch +it was all perfectly comprehensible and therefore uninteresting. +He had known for ever so long why at the head of each battery there +rode a stalwart bombardier, and why he was called a bombardier; +immediately behind this bombardier could be seen the horsemen of +the first and then of the middle units. Ryabovitch knew that the +horses on which they rode, those on the left, were called one name, +while those on the right were called another--it was extremely +uninteresting. Behind the horsemen came two shaft-horses. On one +of them sat a rider with the dust of yesterday on his back and a +clumsy and funny-looking piece of wood on his leg. Ryabovitch knew +the object of this piece of wood, and did not think it funny. All +the riders waved their whips mechanically and shouted from time to +time. The cannon itself was ugly. On the fore part lay sacks of +oats covered with canvas, and the cannon itself was hung all over +with kettles, soldiers' knapsacks, bags, and looked like some small +harmless animal surrounded for some unknown reason by men and horses. +To the leeward of it marched six men, the gunners, swinging their +arms. After the cannon there came again more bombardiers, riders, +shaft-horses, and behind them another cannon, as ugly and unimpressive +as the first. After the second followed a third, a fourth; near the +fourth an officer, and so on. There were six batteries in all in +the brigade, and four cannons in each battery. The procession covered +half a mile; it ended in a string of wagons near which an extremely +attractive creature--the ass, Magar, brought by a battery commander +from Turkey--paced pensively with his long-eared head drooping. + +Ryabovitch looked indifferently before and behind, at the backs of +heads and at faces; at any other time he would have been half asleep, +but now he was entirely absorbed in his new agreeable thoughts. At +first when the brigade was setting off on the march he tried to +persuade himself that the incident of the kiss could only be +interesting as a mysterious little adventure, that it was in reality +trivial, and to think of it seriously, to say the least of it, was +stupid; but now he bade farewell to logic and gave himself up to +dreams. . . . At one moment he imagined himself in Von Rabbek's +drawing-room beside a girl who was like the young lady in lilac and +the fair girl in black; then he would close his eyes and see himself +with another, entirely unknown girl, whose features were very vague. +In his imagination he talked, caressed her, leaned on her shoulder, +pictured war, separation, then meeting again, supper with his wife, +children. . . . + +"Brakes on!" the word of command rang out every time they went +downhill. + +He, too, shouted "Brakes on!" and was afraid this shout would disturb +his reverie and bring him back to reality. . . . + +As they passed by some landowner's estate Ryabovitch looked over +the fence into the garden. A long avenue, straight as a ruler, +strewn with yellow sand and bordered with young birch-trees, met +his eyes. . . . With the eagerness of a man given up to dreaming, +he pictured to himself little feminine feet tripping along yellow +sand, and quite unexpectedly had a clear vision in his imagination +of the girl who had kissed him and whom he had succeeded in picturing +to himself the evening before at supper. This image remained in his +brain and did not desert him again. + +At midday there was a shout in the rear near the string of wagons: + +"Easy! Eyes to the left! Officers!" + +The general of the brigade drove by in a carriage with a pair of +white horses. He stopped near the second battery, and shouted +something which no one understood. Several officers, among them +Ryabovitch, galloped up to them. + +"Well?" asked the general, blinking his red eyes. "Are there any +sick?" + +Receiving an answer, the general, a little skinny man, chewed, +thought for a moment and said, addressing one of the officers: + +"One of your drivers of the third cannon has taken off his leg-guard +and hung it on the fore part of the cannon, the rascal. Reprimand +him." + +He raised his eyes to Ryabovitch and went on: + +"It seems to me your front strap is too long." + +Making a few other tedious remarks, the general looked at Lobytko +and grinned. + +"You look very melancholy today, Lieutenant Lobytko," he said. "Are +you pining for Madame Lopuhov? Eh? Gentlemen, he is pining for +Madame Lopuhov." + +The lady in question was a very stout and tall person who had long +passed her fortieth year. The general, who had a predilection for +solid ladies, whatever their ages, suspected a similar taste in his +officers. The officers smiled respectfully. The general, delighted +at having said something very amusing and biting, laughed loudly, +touched his coachman's back, and saluted. The carriage rolled on. . . . + +"All I am dreaming about now which seems to me so impossible and +unearthly is really quite an ordinary thing," thought Ryabovitch, +looking at the clouds of dust racing after the general's carriage. +"It's all very ordinary, and every one goes through it. . . . That +general, for instance, has once been in love; now he is married and +has children. Captain Vahter, too, is married and beloved, though +the nape of his neck is very red and ugly and he has no waist. . . . +Salrnanov is coarse and very Tatar, but he has had a love affair +that has ended in marriage. . . . I am the same as every one else, +and I, too, shall have the same experience as every one else, sooner +or later. . . ." + +And the thought that he was an ordinary person, and that his life +was ordinary, delighted him and gave him courage. He pictured her +and his happiness as he pleased, and put no rein on his imagination. + +When the brigade reached their halting-place in the evening, and +the officers were resting in their tents, Ryabovitch, Merzlyakov, +and Lobytko were sitting round a box having supper. Merzlyakov ate +without haste, and, as he munched deliberately, read the "Vyestnik +Evropi," which he held on his knees. Lobytko talked incessantly and +kept filling up his glass with beer, and Ryabovitch, whose head was +confused from dreaming all day long, drank and said nothing. After +three glasses he got a little drunk, felt weak, and had an irresistible +desire to impart his new sensations to his comrades. + +"A strange thing happened to me at those Von Rabbeks'," he began, +trying to put an indifferent and ironical tone into his voice. "You +know I went into the billiard-room. . . ." + +He began describing very minutely the incident of the kiss, and a +moment later relapsed into silence. . . . In the course of that +moment he had told everything, and it surprised him dreadfully to +find how short a time it took him to tell it. He had imagined that +he could have been telling the story of the kiss till next morning. +Listening to him, Lobytko, who was a great liar and consequently +believed no one, looked at him sceptically and laughed. Merzlyakov +twitched his eyebrows and, without removing his eyes from the +"Vyestnik Evropi," said: + +"That's an odd thing! How strange! . . . throws herself on a man's +neck, without addressing him by name. .. . She must be some sort +of hysterical neurotic." + +"Yes, she must," Ryabovitch agreed. + +"A similar thing once happened to me," said Lobytko, assuming a +scared expression. "I was going last year to Kovno. . . . I took a +second-class ticket. The train was crammed, and it was impossible +to sleep. I gave the guard half a rouble; he took my luggage and +led me to another compartment. . . . I lay down and covered myself +with a rug. . . . It was dark, you understand. Suddenly I felt some +one touch me on the shoulder and breathe in my face. I made a +movement with my hand and felt somebody's elbow. . . . I opened my +eyes and only imagine--a woman. Black eyes, lips red as a prime +salmon, nostrils breathing passionately--a bosom like a buffer. . . ." + +"Excuse me," Merzlyakov interrupted calmly, "I understand about the +bosom, but how could you see the lips if it was dark?" + +Lobytko began trying to put himself right and laughing at Merzlyakov's +unimaginativeness. It made Ryabovitch wince. He walked away from +the box, got into bed, and vowed never to confide again. + +Camp life began. . . . The days flowed by, one very much like +another. All those days Ryabovitch felt, thought, and behaved as +though he were in love. Every morning when his orderly handed him +water to wash with, and he sluiced his head with cold water, he +thought there was something warm and delightful in his life. + +In the evenings when his comrades began talking of love and women, +he would listen, and draw up closer; and he wore the expression of +a soldier when he hears the description of a battle in which he has +taken part. And on the evenings when the officers, out on the spree +with the setter--Lobytko--at their head, made Don Juan excursions +to the "suburb," and Ryabovitch took part in such excursions, he +always was sad, felt profoundly guilty, and inwardly begged _her_ +forgiveness. . . . In hours of leisure or on sleepless nights, when +he felt moved to recall his childhood, his father and mother-- +everything near and dear, in fact, he invariably thought of +Myestetchki, the strange horse, Von Rabbek, his wife who was like +the Empress Eugénie, the dark room, the crack of light at the +door. . . . + +On the thirty-first of August he went back from the camp, not with +the whole brigade, but with only two batteries of it. He was dreaming +and excited all the way, as though he were going back to his native +place. He had an intense longing to see again the strange horse, +the church, the insincere family of the Von Rabbeks, the dark room. +The "inner voice," which so often deceives lovers, whispered to him +for some reason that he would be sure to see her . . . and he was +tortured by the questions, How he should meet her? What he would +talk to her about? Whether she had forgotten the kiss? If the worst +came to the worst, he thought, even if he did not meet her, it would +be a pleasure to him merely to go through the dark room and recall +the past. . . . + +Towards evening there appeared on the horizon the familiar church +and white granaries. Ryabovitch's heart beat. . . . He did not hear +the officer who was riding beside him and saying something to him, +he forgot everything, and looked eagerly at the river shining in +the distance, at the roof of the house, at the dovecote round which +the pigeons were circling in the light of the setting sun. + +When they reached the church and were listening to the billeting +orders, he expected every second that a man on horseback would come +round the church enclosure and invite the officers to tea, but . . . +the billeting orders were read, the officers were in haste to go +on to the village, and the man on horseback did not appear. + +"Von Rabbek will hear at once from the peasants that we have come +and will send for us," thought Ryabovitch, as he went into the hut, +unable to understand why a comrade was lighting a candle and why +the orderlies were hurriedly setting samovars. . . . + +A painful uneasiness took possession of him. He lay down, then got +up and looked out of the window to see whether the messenger were +coming. But there was no sign of him. + +He lay down again, but half an hour later he got up, and, unable +to restrain his uneasiness, went into the street and strode towards +the church. It was dark and deserted in the square near the church +. . . . Three soldiers were standing silent in a row where the road +began to go downhill. Seeing Ryabovitch, they roused themselves and +saluted. He returned the salute and began to go down the familiar +path. + +On the further side of the river the whole sky was flooded with +crimson: the moon was rising; two peasant women, talking loudly, +were picking cabbage in the kitchen garden; behind the kitchen +garden there were some dark huts. . . . And everything on the near +side of the river was just as it had been in May: the path, the +bushes, the willows overhanging the water . . . but there was no +sound of the brave nightingale, and no scent of poplar and fresh +grass. + +Reaching the garden, Ryabovitch looked in at the gate. The garden +was dark and still. . . . He could see nothing but the white stems +of the nearest birch-trees and a little bit of the avenue; all the +rest melted together into a dark blur. Ryabovitch looked and listened +eagerly, but after waiting for a quarter of an hour without hearing +a sound or catching a glimpse of a light, he trudged back. . . . + +He went down to the river. The General's bath-house and the bath-sheets +on the rail of the little bridge showed white before him. . . . He +went on to the bridge, stood a little, and, quite unnecessarily, +touched the sheets. They felt rough and cold. He looked down at the +water. . . . The river ran rapidly and with a faintly audible gurgle +round the piles of the bath-house. The red moon was reflected near +the left bank; little ripples ran over the reflection, stretching +it out, breaking it into bits, and seemed trying to carry it away. + +"How stupid, how stupid!" thought Ryabovitch, looking at the running +water. "How unintelligent it all is!" + +Now that he expected nothing, the incident of the kiss, his impatience, +his vague hopes and disappointment, presented themselves in a clear +light. It no longer seemed to him strange that he had not seen the +General's messenger, and that he would never see the girl who had +accidentally kissed him instead of some one else; on the contrary, +it would have been strange if he had seen her. . . . + +The water was running, he knew not where or why, just as it did in +May. In May it had flowed into the great river, from the great river +into the sea; then it had risen in vapour, turned into rain, and +perhaps the very same water was running now before Ryabovitch's +eyes again. . . . What for? Why? + +And the whole world, the whole of life, seemed to Ryabovitch an +unintelligible, aimless jest. . . . And turning his eyes from the +water and looking at the sky, he remembered again how fate in the +person of an unknown woman had by chance caressed him, he remembered +his summer dreams and fancies, and his life struck him as extraordinarily +meagre, poverty-stricken, and colourless. . . . + +When he went back to his hut he did not find one of his comrades. +The orderly informed him that they had all gone to "General von +Rabbek's, who had sent a messenger on horseback to invite them. . . ." + +For an instant there was a flash of joy in Ryabovitch's heart, but +he quenched it at once, got into bed, and in his wrath with his +fate, as though to spite it, did not go to the General's. + + +'ANNA ON THE NECK' + +I + +AFTER the wedding they had not even light refreshments; the happy +pair simply drank a glass of champagne, changed into their travelling +things, and drove to the station. Instead of a gay wedding ball and +supper, instead of music and dancing, they went on a journey to +pray at a shrine a hundred and fifty miles away. Many people commended +this, saying that Modest Alexeitch was a man high up in the service +and no longer young, and that a noisy wedding might not have seemed +quite suitable; and music is apt to sound dreary when a government +official of fifty-two marries a girl who is only just eighteen. +People said, too, that Modest Alexeitch, being a man of principle, +had arranged this visit to the monastery expressly in order to make +his young bride realize that even in marriage he put religion and +morality above everything. + +The happy pair were seen off at the station. The crowd of relations +and colleagues in the service stood, with glasses in their hands, +waiting for the train to start to shout "Hurrah!" and the bride's +father, Pyotr Leontyitch, wearing a top-hat and the uniform of a +teacher, already drunk and very pale, kept craning towards the +window, glass in hand and saying in an imploring voice: + +"Anyuta! Anya, Anya! one word!" + +Anna bent out of the window to him, and he whispered something to +her, enveloping her in a stale smell of alcohol, blew into her ear +--she could make out nothing--and made the sign of the cross +over her face, her bosom, and her hands; meanwhile he was breathing +in gasps and tears were shining in his eyes. And the schoolboys, +Anna's brothers, Petya and Andrusha, pulled at his coat from behind, +whispering in confusion: + +"Father, hush! . . . Father, that's enough. . . ." + +When the train started, Anna saw her father run a little way after +the train, staggering and spilling his wine, and what a kind, guilty, +pitiful face he had: + +"Hurra--ah!" he shouted. + +The happy pair were left alone. Modest Alexeitch looked about the +compartment, arranged their things on the shelves, and sat down, +smiling, opposite his young wife. He was an official of medium +height, rather stout and puffy, who looked exceedingly well nourished, +with long whiskers and no moustache. His clean-shaven, round, sharply +defined chin looked like the heel of a foot. The most characteristic +point in his face was the absence of moustache, the bare, freshly +shaven place, which gradually passed into the fat cheeks, quivering +like jelly. His deportment was dignified, his movements were +deliberate, his manner was soft. + +"I cannot help remembering now one circumstance," he said, smiling. +"When, five years ago, Kosorotov received the order of St. Anna of +the second grade, and went to thank His Excellency, His Excellency +expressed himself as follows: 'So now you have three Annas: one in +your buttonhole and two on your neck.' And it must be explained +that at that time Kosorotov's wife, a quarrelsome and frivolous +person, had just returned to him, and that her name was Anna. I +trust that when I receive the Anna of the second grade His Excellency +will not have occasion to say the same thing to me." + +He smiled with his little eyes. And she, too, smiled, troubled at +the thought that at any moment this man might kiss her with his +thick damp lips, and that she had no right to prevent his doing so. +The soft movements of his fat person frightened her; she felt both +fear and disgust. He got up, without haste took off the order from +his neck, took off his coat and waistcoat, and put on his dressing-gown. + +"That's better," he said, sitting down beside Anna. + +Anna remembered what agony the wedding had been, when it had seemed +to her that the priest, and the guests, and every one in church had +been looking at her sorrowfully and asking why, why was she, such +a sweet, nice girl, marrying such an elderly, uninteresting gentleman. +Only that morning she was delighted that everything had been +satisfactorily arranged, but at the time of the wedding, and now +in the railway carriage, she felt cheated, guilty, and ridiculous. +Here she had married a rich man and yet she had no money, her +wedding-dress had been bought on credit, and when her father and +brothers had been saying good-bye, she could see from their faces +that they had not a farthing. Would they have any supper that day? +And tomorrow? And for some reason it seemed to her that her father +and the boys were sitting tonight hungry without her, and feeling +the same misery as they had the day after their mother's funeral. + +"Oh, how unhappy I am!" she thought. "Why am I so unhappy?" + +With the awkwardness of a man with settled habits, unaccustomed to +deal with women, Modest Alexeitch touched her on the waist and +patted her on the shoulder, while she went on thinking about money, +about her mother and her mother's death. When her mother died, her +father, Pyotr Leontyitch, a teacher of drawing and writing in the +high school, had taken to drink, impoverishment had followed, the +boys had not had boots or goloshes, their father had been hauled +up before the magistrate, the warrant officer had come and made an +inventory of the furniture. . . . What a disgrace! Anna had had to +look after her drunken father, darn her brothers' stockings, go to +market, and when she was complimented on her youth, her beauty, and +her elegant manners, it seemed to her that every one was looking +at her cheap hat and the holes in her boots that were inked over. +And at night there had been tears and a haunting dread that her +father would soon, very soon, be dismissed from the school for his +weakness, and that he would not survive it, but would die, too, +like their mother. But ladies of their acquaintance had taken the +matter in hand and looked about for a good match for Anna. This +Modest Alexevitch, who was neither young nor good-looking but had +money, was soon found. He had a hundred thousand in the bank and +the family estate, which he had let on lease. He was a man of +principle and stood well with His Excellency; it would be nothing +to him, so they told Anna, to get a note from His Excellency to the +directors of the high school, or even to the Education Commissioner, +to prevent Pyotr Leontyitch from being dismissed. + +While she was recalling these details, she suddenly heard strains +of music which floated in at the window, together with the sound +of voices. The train was stopping at a station. In the crowd beyond +the platform an accordion and a cheap squeaky fiddle were being +briskly played, and the sound of a military band came from beyond +the villas and the tall birches and poplars that lay bathed in the +moonlight; there must have been a dance in the place. Summer visitors +and townspeople, who used to come out here by train in fine weather +for a breath of fresh air, were parading up and down on the platform. +Among them was the wealthy owner of all the summer villas--a tall, +stout, dark man called Artynov. He had prominent eyes and looked +like an Armenian. He wore a strange costume; his shirt was unbuttoned, +showing his chest; he wore high boots with spurs, and a black cloak +hung from his shoulders and dragged on the ground like a train. Two +boar-hounds followed him with their sharp noses to the ground. + +Tears were still shining in Anna's eyes, but she was not thinking +now of her mother, nor of money, nor of her marriage; but shaking +hands with schoolboys and officers she knew, she laughed gaily and +said quickly: + +"How do you do? How are you?" + +She went out on to the platform between the carriages into the +moonlight, and stood so that they could all see her in her new +splendid dress and hat. + +"Why are we stopping here?" she asked. + +"This is a junction. They are waiting for the mail train to pass." + +Seeing that Artynov was looking at her, she screwed up her eyes +coquettishly and began talking aloud in French; and because her +voice sounded so pleasant, and because she heard music and the moon +was reflected in the pond, and because Artynov, the notorious Don +Juan and spoiled child of fortune, was looking at her eagerly and +with curiosity, and because every one was in good spirits--she +suddenly felt joyful, and when the train started and the officers +of her acquaintance saluted her, she was humming the polka the +strains of which reached her from the military band playing beyond +the trees; and she returned to her compartment feeling as though +it had been proved to her at the station that she would certainly +be happy in spite of everything. + +The happy pair spent two days at the monastery, then went back to +town. They lived in a rent-free flat. When Modest Alexevitch had +gone to the office, Anna played the piano, or shed tears of depression, +or lay down on a couch and read novels or looked through fashion +papers. At dinner Modest Alexevitch ate a great deal and talked +about politics, about appointments, transfers, and promotions in +the service, about the necessity of hard work, and said that, family +life not being a pleasure but a duty, if you took care of the kopecks +the roubles would take care of themselves, and that he put religion +and morality before everything else in the world. And holding his +knife in his fist as though it were a sword, he would say: + +"Every one ought to have his duties!" + +And Anna listened to him, was frightened, and could not eat, and +she usually got up from the table hungry. After dinner her husband +lay down for a nap and snored loudly, while Anna went to see her +own people. Her father and the boys looked at her in a peculiar +way, as though just before she came in they had been blaming her +for having married for money a tedious, wearisome man she did not +love; her rustling skirts, her bracelets, and her general air of a +married lady, offended them and made them uncomfortable. In her +presence they felt a little embarrassed and did not know what to +talk to her about; but yet they still loved her as before, and were +not used to having dinner without her. She sat down with them to +cabbage soup, porridge, and fried potatoes, smelling of mutton +dripping. Pyotr Leontyitch filled his glass from the decanter with +a trembling hand and drank it off hurriedly, greedily, with repulsion, +then poured out a second glass and then a third. Petya and Andrusha, +thin, pale boys with big eyes, would take the decanter and say +desperately: + +"You mustn't, father. . . . Enough, father. . . ." + +And Anna, too, was troubled and entreated him to drink no more; and +he would suddenly fly into a rage and beat the table with his fists: + +"I won't allow any one to dictate to me!" he would shout. "Wretched +boys! wretched girl! I'll turn you all out!" + +But there was a note of weakness, of good-nature in his voice, and +no one was afraid of him. After dinner he usually dressed in his +best. Pale, with a cut on his chin from shaving, craning his thin +neck, he would stand for half an hour before the glass, prinking, +combing his hair, twisting his black moustache, sprinkling himself +with scent, tying his cravat in a bow; then he would put on his +gloves and his top-hat, and go off to give his private lessons. Or +if it was a holiday he would stay at home and paint, or play the +harmonium, which wheezed and growled; he would try to wrest from +it pure harmonious sounds and would sing to it; or would storm at +the boys: + +"Wretches! Good-for-nothing boys! You have spoiled the instrument!" + +In the evening Anna's husband played cards with his colleagues, who +lived under the same roof in the government quarters. The wives of +these gentlemen would come in--ugly, tastelessly dressed women, +as coarse as cooks--and gossip would begin in the flat as tasteless +and unattractive as the ladies themselves. Sometimes Modest Alexevitch +would take Anna to the theatre. In the intervals he would never let +her stir a step from his side, but walked about arm in arm with her +through the corridors and the foyer. When he bowed to some one, he +immediately whispered to Anna: "A civil councillor . . . visits at +His Excellency's"; or, "A man of means . . . has a house of his +own." When they passed the buffet Anna had a great longing for +something sweet; she was fond of chocolate and apple cakes, but she +had no money, and she did not like to ask her husband. He would +take a pear, pinch it with his fingers, and ask uncertainly: + +"How much?" + +"Twenty-five kopecks!" + +"I say!" he would reply, and put it down; but as it was awkward to +leave the buffet without buying anything, he would order some +seltzer-water and drink the whole bottle himself, and tears would +come into his eyes. And Anna hated him at such times. + +And suddenly flushing crimson, he would say to her rapidly: + +"Bow to that old lady!" + +"But I don't know her." + +"No matter. That's the wife of the director of the local treasury! +Bow, I tell you," he would grumble insistently. "Your head won't +drop off." + +Anna bowed and her head certainly did not drop off, but it was +agonizing. She did everything her husband wanted her to, and was +furious with herself for having let him deceive her like the veriest +idiot. She had only married him for his money, and yet she had less +money now than before her marriage. In old days her father would +sometimes give her twenty kopecks, but now she had not a farthing. + +To take money by stealth or ask for it, she could not; she was +afraid of her husband, she trembled before him. She felt as though +she had been afraid of him for years. In her childhood the director +of the high school had always seemed the most impressive and +terrifying force in the world, sweeping down like a thunderstorm +or a steam-engine ready to crush her; another similar force of which +the whole family talked, and of which they were for some reason +afraid, was His Excellency; then there were a dozen others, less +formidable, and among them the teachers at the high school, with +shaven upper lips, stern, implacable; and now finally, there was +Modest Alexeitch, a man of principle, who even resembled the director +in the face. And in Anna's imagination all these forces blended +together into one, and, in the form of a terrible, huge white bear, +menaced the weak and erring such as her father. And she was afraid +to say anything in opposition to her husband, and gave a forced +smile, and tried to make a show of pleasure when she was coarsely +caressed and defiled by embraces that excited her terror. Only once +Pyotr Leontyitch had the temerity to ask for a loan of fifty roubles +in order to pay some very irksome debt, but what an agony it had +been! + +"Very good; I'll give it to you," said Modest Alexeitch after a +moment's thought; "but I warn you I won't help you again till you +give up drinking. Such a failing is disgraceful in a man in the +government service! I must remind you of the well-known fact that +many capable people have been ruined by that passion, though they +might possibly, with temperance, have risen in time to a very high +position." + +And long-winded phrases followed: "inasmuch as . . .", "following +upon which proposition . . .", "in view of the aforesaid contention +. . ."; and Pyotr Leontyitch was in agonies of humiliation and felt +an intense craving for alcohol. + +And when the boys came to visit Anna, generally in broken boots and +threadbare trousers, they, too, had to listen to sermons. + +"Every man ought to have his duties!" Modest Alexeitch would say +to them. + +And he did not give them money. But he did give Anna bracelets, +rings, and brooches, saying that these things would come in useful +for a rainy day. And he often unlocked her drawer and made an +inspection to see whether they were all safe. + +II + +Meanwhile winter came on. Long before Christmas there was an +announcement in the local papers that the usual winter ball would +take place on the twenty-ninth of December in the Hall of Nobility. +Every evening after cards Modest Alexeitch was excitedly whispering +with his colleagues' wives and glancing at Anna, and then paced up +and down the room for a long while, thinking. At last, late one +evening, he stood still, facing Anna, and said: + +"You ought to get yourself a ball dress. Do you understand? Only +please consult Marya Grigoryevna and Natalya Kuzminishna." + +And he gave her a hundred roubles. She took the money, but she did +not consult any one when she ordered the ball dress; she spoke to +no one but her father, and tried to imagine how her mother would +have dressed for a ball. Her mother had always dressed in the latest +fashion and had always taken trouble over Anna, dressing her elegantly +like a doll, and had taught her to speak French and dance the mazurka +superbly (she had been a governess for five years before her +marriage). Like her mother, Anna could make a new dress out of an +old one, clean gloves with benzine, hire jewels; and, like her +mother, she knew how to screw up her eyes, lisp, assume graceful +attitudes, fly into raptures when necessary, and throw a mournful +and enigmatic look into her eyes. And from her father she had +inherited the dark colour of her hair and eyes, her highly-strung +nerves, and the habit of always making herself look her best. + +When, half an hour before setting off for the ball, Modest Alexeitch +went into her room without his coat on, to put his order round his +neck before her pier-glass, dazzled by her beauty and the splendour +of her fresh, ethereal dress, he combed his whiskers complacently +and said: + +"So that's what my wife can look like . . . so that's what you can +look like! Anyuta!" he went on, dropping into a tone of solemnity, +"I have made your fortune, and now I beg you to do something for +mine. I beg you to get introduced to the wife of His Excellency! +For God's sake, do! Through her I may get the post of senior reporting +clerk!" + +They went to the ball. They reached the Hall of Nobility, the +entrance with the hall porter. They came to the vestibule with the +hat-stands, the fur coats; footmen scurrying about, and ladies with +low necks putting up their fans to screen themselves from the +draughts. There was a smell of gas and of soldiers. When Anna, +walking upstairs on her husband's arm, heard the music and saw +herself full length in the looking-glass in the full glow of the +lights, there was a rush of joy in her heart, and she felt the same +presentiment of happiness as in the moonlight at the station. She +walked in proudly, confidently, for the first time feeling herself +not a girl but a lady, and unconsciously imitating her mother in +her walk and in her manner. And for the first time in her life she +felt rich and free. Even her husband's presence did not oppress +her, for as she crossed the threshold of the hall she had guessed +instinctively that the proximity of an old husband did not detract +from her in the least, but, on the contrary, gave her that shade +of piquant mystery that is so attractive to men. The orchestra was +already playing and the dances had begun. After their flat Anna was +overwhelmed by the lights, the bright colours, the music, the noise, +and looking round the room, thought, "Oh, how lovely!" She at once +distinguished in the crowd all her acquaintances, every one she had +met before at parties or on picnics--all the officers, the teachers, +the lawyers, the officials, the landowners, His Excellency, Artynov, +and the ladies of the highest standing, dressed up and very +_décollettées_, handsome and ugly, who had already taken up their +positions in the stalls and pavilions of the charity bazaar, to +begin selling things for the benefit of the poor. A huge officer +in epaulettes--she had been introduced to him in Staro-Kievsky +Street when she was a schoolgirl, but now she could not remember +his name--seemed to spring from out of the ground, begging her +for a waltz, and she flew away from her husband, feeling as though +she were floating away in a sailing-boat in a violent storm, while +her husband was left far away on the shore. She danced passionately, +with fervour, a waltz, then a polka and a quadrille, being snatched +by one partner as soon as she was left by another, dizzy with music +and the noise, mixing Russian with French, lisping, laughing, and +with no thought of her husband or anything else. She excited great +admiration among the men--that was evident, and indeed it could +not have been otherwise; she was breathless with excitement, felt +thirsty, and convulsively clutched her fan. Pyotr Leontyitch, her +father, in a crumpled dress-coat that smelt of benzine, came up to +her, offering her a plate of pink ice. + +"You are enchanting this evening," he said, looking at her rapturously, +"and I have never so much regretted that you were in such a hurry +to get married. . . . What was it for? I know you did it for our +sake, but . . ." With a shaking hand he drew out a roll of notes +and said: "I got the money for my lessons today, and can pay your +husband what I owe him." + +She put the plate back into his hand, and was pounced upon by some +one and borne off to a distance. She caught a glimpse over her +partner's shoulder of her father gliding over the floor, putting +his arm round a lady and whirling down the ball-room with her. + +"How sweet he is when he is sober!" she thought. + +She danced the mazurka with the same huge officer; he moved gravely, +as heavily as a dead carcase in a uniform, twitched his shoulders +and his chest, stamped his feet very languidly--he felt fearfully +disinclined to dance. She fluttered round him, provoking him by her +beauty, her bare neck; her eyes glowed defiantly, her movements +were passionate, while he became more and more indifferent, and +held out his hands to her as graciously as a king. + +"Bravo, bravo!" said people watching them. + +But little by little the huge officer, too, broke out; he grew +lively, excited, and, overcome by her fascination, was carried away +and danced lightly, youthfully, while she merely moved her shoulders +and looked slyly at him as though she were now the queen and he +were her slave; and at that moment it seemed to her that the whole +room was looking at them, and that everybody was thrilled and envied +them. The huge officer had hardly had time to thank her for the +dance, when the crowd suddenly parted and the men drew themselves +up in a strange way, with their hands at their sides. + +His Excellency, with two stars on his dress-coat, was walking up +to her. Yes, His Excellency was walking straight towards her, for +he was staring directly at her with a sugary smile, while he licked +his lips as he always did when he saw a pretty woman. + +"Delighted, delighted . . ." he began. "I shall order your husband +to be clapped in a lock-up for keeping such a treasure hidden from +us till now. I've come to you with a message from my wife," he went +on, offering her his arm. "You must help us. . . . M-m-yes. . . . +We ought to give you the prize for beauty as they do in America +. . . . M-m-yes. . . . The Americans. . . . My wife is expecting you +impatiently." + +He led her to a stall and presented her to a middle-aged lady, the +lower part of whose face was disproportionately large, so that she +looked as though she were holding a big stone in her mouth. + +"You must help us," she said through her nose in a sing-song voice. +"All the pretty women are working for our charity bazaar, and you +are the only one enjoying yourself. Why won't you help us?" + +She went away, and Anna took her place by the cups and the silver +samovar. She was soon doing a lively trade. Anna asked no less than +a rouble for a cup of tea, and made the huge officer drink three +cups. Artynov, the rich man with prominent eyes, who suffered from +asthma, came up, too; he was not dressed in the strange costume in +which Anna had seen him in the summer at the station, but wore a +dress-coat like every one else. Keeping his eyes fixed on Anna, he +drank a glass of champagne and paid a hundred roubles for it, then +drank some tea and gave another hundred--all this without saying +a word, as he was short of breath through asthma. . . . Anna invited +purchasers and got money out of them, firmly convinced by now that +her smiles and glances could not fail to afford these people great +pleasure. She realized now that she was created exclusively for +this noisy, brilliant, laughing life, with its music, its dancers, +its adorers, and her old terror of a force that was sweeping down +upon her and menacing to crush her seemed to her ridiculous: she +was afraid of no one now, and only regretted that her mother could +not be there to rejoice at her success. + +Pyotr Leontyitch, pale by now but still steady on his legs, came +up to the stall and asked for a glass of brandy. Anna turned crimson, +expecting him to say something inappropriate (she was already ashamed +of having such a poor and ordinary father); but he emptied his +glass, took ten roubles out of his roll of notes, flung it down, +and walked away with dignity without uttering a word. A little later +she saw him dancing in the grand chain, and by now he was staggering +and kept shouting something, to the great confusion of his partner; +and Anna remembered how at the ball three years before he had +staggered and shouted in the same way, and it had ended in the +police-sergeant's taking him home to bed, and next day the director +had threatened to dismiss him from his post. How inappropriate that +memory was! + +When the samovars were put out in the stalls and the exhausted +ladies handed over their takings to the middle-aged lady with the +stone in her mouth, Artynov took Anna on his arm to the hall where +supper was served to all who had assisted at the bazaar. There were +some twenty people at supper, not more, but it was very noisy. His +Excellency proposed a toast: + +"In this magnificent dining-room it will be appropriate to drink +to the success of the cheap dining-rooms, which are the object of +today's bazaar." + +The brigadier-general proposed the toast: "To the power by which +even the artillery is vanquished," and all the company clinked +glasses with the ladies. It was very, very gay. + +When Anna was escorted home it was daylight and the cooks were going +to market. Joyful, intoxicated, full of new sensations, exhausted, +she undressed, dropped into bed, and at once fell asleep. . . . + +It was past one in the afternoon when the servant waked her and +announced that M. Artynov had called. She dressed quickly and went +down into the drawing-room. Soon after Artynov, His Excellency +called to thank her for her assistance in the bazaar. With a sugary +smile, chewing his lips, he kissed her hand, and asking her permission +to come again, took his leave, while she remained standing in the +middle of the drawing-room, amazed, enchanted, unable to believe +that this change in her life, this marvellous change, had taken +place so quickly; and at that moment Modest Alexeitch walked in +. . . and he, too, stood before her now with the same ingratiating, +sugary, cringingly respectful expression which she was accustomed +to see on his face in the presence of the great and powerful; and +with rapture, with indignation, with contempt, convinced that no +harm would come to her from it, she said, articulating distinctly +each word: + +"Be off, you blockhead!" + +From this time forward Anna never had one day free, as she was +always taking part in picnics, expeditions, performances. She +returned home every day after midnight, and went to bed on the floor +in the drawing-room, and afterwards used to tell every one, touchingly, +how she slept under flowers. She needed a very great deal of money, +but she was no longer afraid of Modest Alexeitch, and spent his +money as though it were her own; and she did not ask, did not demand +it, simply sent him in the bills. "Give bearer two hundred roubles," +or "Pay one hundred roubles at once." + +At Easter Modest Alexeitch received the Anna of the second grade. +When he went to offer his thanks, His Excellency put aside the paper +he was reading and settled himself more comfortably in his chair. + +"So now you have three Annas," he said, scrutinizing his white hands +and pink nails--"one on your buttonhole and two on your neck." + +Modest Alexeitch put two fingers to his lips as a precaution against +laughing too loud and said: + +"Now I have only to look forward to the arrival of a little Vladimir. +I make bold to beg your Excellency to stand godfather." + +He was alluding to Vladimir of the fourth grade, and was already +imagining how he would tell everywhere the story of this pun, so +happy in its readiness and audacity, and he wanted to say something +equally happy, but His Excellency was buried again in his newspaper, +and merely gave him a nod. + +And Anna went on driving about with three horses, going out hunting +with Artynov, playing in one-act dramas, going out to supper, and +was more and more rarely with her own family; they dined now alone. +Pyotr Leontyitch was drinking more heavily than ever; there was no +money, and the harmonium had been sold long ago for debt. The boys +did not let him go out alone in the street now, but looked after +him for fear he might fall down; and whenever they met Anna driving +in Staro-Kievsky Street with a pair of horses and Artynov on the +box instead of a coachman, Pyotr Leontyitch took off his top-hat, +and was about to shout to her, but Petya and Andrusha took him by +the arm, and said imploringly: + +"You mustn't, father. Hush, father!" + + +THE TEACHER OF LITERATURE + +I + +THERE was the thud of horses' hoofs on the wooden floor; they brought +out of the stable the black horse, Count Nulin; then the white, +Giant; then his sister Maika. They were all magnificent, expensive +horses. Old Shelestov saddled Giant and said, addressing his daughter +Masha: + +"Well, Marie Godefroi, come, get on! Hopla!" + +Masha Shelestov was the youngest of the family; she was eighteen, +but her family could not get used to thinking that she was not a +little girl, and so they still called her Manya and Manyusa; and +after there had been a circus in the town which she had eagerly +visited, every one began to call her Marie Godefroi. + +"Hop-la!" she cried, mounting Giant. Her sister Varya got on Maika, +Nikitin on Count Nulin, the officers on their horses, and the long +picturesque cavalcade, with the officers in white tunics and the +ladies in their riding habits, moved at a walking pace out of the +yard. + +Nikitin noticed that when they were mounting the horses and afterwards +riding out into the street, Masha for some reason paid attention +to no one but himself. She looked anxiously at him and at Count +Nulin and said: + +"You must hold him all the time on the curb, Sergey Vassilitch. +Don't let him shy. He's pretending." + +And either because her Giant was very friendly with Count Nulin, +or perhaps by chance, she rode all the time beside Nikitin, as she +had done the day before, and the day before that. And he looked at +her graceful little figure sitting on the proud white beast, at her +delicate profile, at the chimney-pot hat, which did not suit her +at all and made her look older than her age--looked at her with +joy, with tenderness, with rapture; listened to her, taking in +little of what she said, and thought: + +"I promise on my honour, I swear to God, I won't be afraid and I'll +speak to her today." + +It was seven o'clock in the evening--the time when the scent of +white acacia and lilac is so strong that the air and the very trees +seem heavy with the fragrance. The band was already playing in the +town gardens. The horses made a resounding thud on the pavement, +on all sides there were sounds of laughter, talk, and the banging +of gates. The soldiers they met saluted the officers, the schoolboys +bowed to Nikitin, and all the people who were hurrying to the gardens +to hear the band were pleased at the sight of the party. And how +warm it was! How soft-looking were the clouds scattered carelessly +about the sky, how kindly and comforting the shadows of the poplars +and the acacias, which stretched across the street and reached as +far as the balconies and second stories of the houses on the other +side. + +They rode on out of the town and set off at a trot along the highroad. +Here there was no scent of lilac and acacia, no music of the band, +but there was the fragrance of the fields, there was the green of +young rye and wheat, the marmots were squeaking, the rooks were +cawing. Wherever one looked it was green, with only here and there +black patches of bare ground, and far away to the left in the +cemetery a white streak of apple-blossom. + +They passed the slaughter-houses, then the brewery, and overtook a +military band hastening to the suburban gardens. + +"Polyansky has a very fine horse, I don't deny that," Masha said +to Nikitin, with a glance towards the officer who was riding beside +Varya. "But it has blemishes. That white patch on its left leg ought +not to be there, and, look, it tosses its head. You can't train it +not to now; it will toss its head till the end of its days." + +Masha was as passionate a lover of horses as her father. She felt +a pang when she saw other people with fine horses, and was pleased +when she saw defects in them. Nikitin knew nothing about horses; +it made absolutely no difference to him whether he held his horse +on the bridle or on the curb, whether he trotted or galloped; he +only felt that his position was strained and unnatural, and that +consequently the officers who knew how to sit in their saddles must +please Masha more than he could. And he was jealous of the officers. + +As they rode by the suburban gardens some one suggested their going +in and getting some seltzer-water. They went in. There were no trees +but oaks in the gardens; they had only just come into leaf, so that +through the young foliage the whole garden could still be seen with +its platform, little tables, and swings, and the crows' nests were +visible, looking like big hats. The party dismounted near a table +and asked for seltzer-water. People they knew, walking about the +garden, came up to them. Among them the army doctor in high boots, +and the conductor of the band, waiting for the musicians. The doctor +must have taken Nikitin for a student, for he asked: "Have you come +for the summer holidays?" + +"No, I am here permanently," answered Nikitin. "I am a teacher at +the school." + +"You don't say so?" said the doctor, with surprise. "So young and +already a teacher?" + +"Young, indeed! My goodness, I'm twenty-six! + +"You have a beard and moustache, but yet one would never guess you +were more than twenty-two or twenty-three. How young-looking you +are!" + +"What a beast!" thought Nikitin. "He, too, takes me for a +whipper-snapper!" + +He disliked it extremely when people referred to his youth, especially +in the presence of women or the schoolboys. Ever since he had come +to the town as a master in the school he had detested his own +youthful appearance. The schoolboys were not afraid of him, old +people called him "young man," ladies preferred dancing with him +to listening to his long arguments, and he would have given a great +deal to be ten years older. + +From the garden they went on to the Shelestovs' farm. There they +stopped at the gate and asked the bailiff's wife, Praskovya, to +bring some new milk. Nobody drank the milk; they all looked at one +another, laughed, and galloped back. As they rode back the band was +playing in the suburban garden; the sun was setting behind the +cemetery, and half the sky was crimson from the sunset. + +Masha again rode beside Nikitin. He wanted to tell her how passionately +he loved her, but he was afraid he would be overheard by the officers +and Varya, and he was silent. Masha was silent, too, and he felt +why she was silent and why she was riding beside him, and was so +happy that the earth, the sky, the lights of the town, the black +outline of the brewery--all blended for him into something very +pleasant and comforting, and it seemed to him as though Count Nulin +were stepping on air and would climb up into the crimson sky. + +They arrived home. The samovar was already boiling on the table, +old Shelestov was sitting with his friends, officials in the Circuit +Court, and as usual he was criticizing something. + +"It's loutishness!" he said. "Loutishness and nothing more. Yes!" + +Since Nikitin had been in love with Masha, everything at the +Shelestovs' pleased him: the house, the garden, and the evening +tea, and the wickerwork chairs, and the old nurse, and even the +word "loutishness," which the old man was fond of using. The only +thing he did not like was the number of cats and dogs and the +Egyptian pigeons, who moaned disconsolately in a big cage in the +verandah. There were so many house-dogs and yard-dogs that he had +only learnt to recognize two of them in the course of his acquaintance +with the Shelestovs: Mushka and Som. Mushka was a little mangy dog +with a shaggy face, spiteful and spoiled. She hated Nikitin: when +she saw him she put her head on one side, showed her teeth, and +began: "Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga . . . rrr . . . !" Then she would get +under his chair, and when he would try to drive her away she would +go off into piercing yaps, and the family would say: "Don't be +frightened. She doesn't bite. She is a good dog." + +Som was a tall black dog with long legs and a tail as hard as a +stick. At dinner and tea he usually moved about under the table, +and thumped on people's boots and on the legs of the table with his +tail. He was a good-natured, stupid dog, but Nikitin could not +endure him because he had the habit of putting his head on people's +knees at dinner and messing their trousers with saliva. Nikitin had +more than once tried to hit him on his head with a knife-handle, +to flip him on the nose, had abused him, had complained of him, but +nothing saved his trousers. + +After their ride the tea, jam, rusks, and butter seemed very nice. +They all drank their first glass in silence and with great relish; +over the second they began an argument. It was always Varya who +started the arguments at tea; she was good-looking, handsomer than +Masha, and was considered the cleverest and most cultured person +in the house, and she behaved with dignity and severity, as an +eldest daughter should who has taken the place of her dead mother +in the house. As the mistress of the house, she felt herself entitled +to wear a dressing-gown in the presence of her guests, and to call +the officers by their surnames; she looked on Masha as a little +girl, and talked to her as though she were a schoolmistress. She +used to speak of herself as an old maid--so she was certain she +would marry. + +Every conversation, even about the weather, she invariably turned +into an argument. She had a passion for catching at words, pouncing +on contradictions, quibbling over phrases. You would begin talking +to her, and she would stare at you and suddenly interrupt: "Excuse +me, excuse me, Petrov, the other day you said the very opposite!" + +Or she would smile ironically and say: "I notice, though, you begin +to advocate the principles of the secret police. I congratulate +you." + +If you jested or made a pun, you would hear her voice at once: +"That's stale," "That's pointless." If an officer ventured on a +joke, she would make a contemptuous grimace and say, "An army joke!" + +And she rolled the _r_ so impressively that Mushka invariably +answered from under a chair, "Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga . . . !" + +On this occasion at tea the argument began with Nikitin's mentioning +the school examinations. + +"Excuse me, Sergey Vassilitch," Varya interrupted him. "You say +it's difficult for the boys. And whose fault is that, let me ask +you? For instance, you set the boys in the eighth class an essay +on 'Pushkin as a Psychologist.' To begin with, you shouldn't set +such a difficult subject; and, secondly, Pushkin was not a psychologist. +Shtchedrin now, or Dostoevsky let us say, is a different matter, +but Pushkin is a great poet and nothing more." + +"Shtchedrin is one thing, and Pushkin is another," Nikitin answered +sulkily. + +"I know you don't think much of Shtchedrin at the high school, but +that's not the point. Tell me, in what sense is Pushkin a psychologist?" + +"Why, do you mean to say he was not a psychologist? If you like, +I'll give you examples." + +And Nikitin recited several passages from "Onyegin" and then from +"Boris Godunov." + +"I see no psychology in that." Varya sighed. "The psychologist is +the man who describes the recesses of the human soul, and that's +fine poetry and nothing more." + +"I know the sort of psychology you want," said Nikitin, offended. +"You want some one to saw my finger with a blunt saw while I howl +at the top of my voice--that's what you mean by psychology." + +"That's poor! But still you haven't shown me in what sense Pushkin +is a psychologist?" + +When Nikitin had to argue against anything that seemed to him narrow, +conventional, or something of that kind, he usually leaped up from +his seat, clutched at his head with both hands, and began with a +moan, running from one end of the room to another. And it was the +same now: he jumped up, clutched his head in his hands, and with a +moan walked round the table, then he sat down a little way off. + +The officers took his part. Captain Polyansky began assuring Varya +that Pushkin really was a psychologist, and to prove it quoted two +lines from Lermontov; Lieutenant Gernet said that if Pushkin had +not been a psychologist they would not have erected a monument to +him in Moscow. + +"That's loutishness!" was heard from the other end of the table. +"I said as much to the governor: 'It's loutishness, your Excellency,' +I said." + +"I won't argue any more," cried Nikitin. "It's unending. . . . +Enough! Ach, get away, you nasty dog!" he cried to Som, who laid +his head and paw on his knee. + +"Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga!" came from under the table. + +"Admit that you are wrong!" cried Varya. "Own up!" + +But some young ladies came in, and the argument dropped of itself. +They all went into the drawing-room. Varya sat down at the piano +and began playing dances. They danced first a waltz, then a polka, +then a quadrille with a grand chain which Captain Polyansky led +through all the rooms, then a waltz again. + +During the dancing the old men sat in the drawing-room, smoking and +looking at the young people. Among them was Shebaldin, the director +of the municipal bank, who was famed for his love of literature and +dramatic art. He had founded the local Musical and Dramatic Society, +and took part in the performances himself, confining himself, for +some reason, to playing comic footmen or to reading in a sing-song +voice "The Woman who was a Sinner." His nickname in the town was +"the Mummy," as he was tall, very lean and scraggy, and always had +a solemn air and a fixed, lustreless eye. He was so devoted to the +dramatic art that he even shaved his moustache and beard, and this +made him still more like a mummy. + +After the grand chain, he shuffled up to Nikitin sideways, coughed, +and said: + +"I had the pleasure of being present during the argument at tea. I +fully share your opinion. We are of one mind, and it would be a +great pleasure to me to talk to you. Have you read Lessing on the +dramatic art of Hamburg?" + +"No, I haven't." + +Shebaldin was horrified, and waved his hands as though he had burnt +his fingers, and saying nothing more, staggered back from Nikitin. +Shebaldin's appearance, his question, and his surprise, struck +Nikitin as funny, but he thought none the less: + +"It really is awkward. I am a teacher of literature, and to this +day I've not read Lessing. I must read him." + +Before supper the whole company, old and young, sat down to play +"fate." They took two packs of cards: one pack was dealt round to +the company, the other was laid on the table face downwards. + +"The one who has this card in his hand," old Shelestov began solemnly, +lifting the top card of the second pack, "is fated to go into the +nursery and kiss nurse." + +The pleasure of kissing the nurse fell to the lot of Shebaldin. +They all crowded round him, took him to the nursery, and laughing +and clapping their hands, made him kiss the nurse. There was a great +uproar and shouting. + +"Not so ardently!" cried Shelestov with tears of laughter. "Not so +ardently!" + +It was Nikitin's "fate" to hear the confessions of all. He sat on +a chair in the middle of the drawing-room. A shawl was brought and +put over his head. The first who came to confess to him was Varya. + +"I know your sins," Nikitin began, looking in the darkness at her +stern profile. "Tell me, madam, how do you explain your walking +with Polyansky every day? Oh, it's not for nothing she walks with +an hussar!" + +"That's poor," said Varya, and walked away. + +Then under the shawl he saw the shine of big motionless eyes, caught +the lines of a dear profile in the dark, together with a familiar, +precious fragrance which reminded Nikitin of Masha's room. + +"Marie Godefroi," he said, and did not know his own voice, it was +so soft and tender, "what are your sins?" + +Masha screwed up her eyes and put out the tip of her tongue at him, +then she laughed and went away. And a minute later she was standing +in the middle of the room, clapping her hands and crying: + +"Supper, supper, supper!" + +And they all streamed into the dining-room. At supper Varya had +another argument, and this time with her father. Polyansky ate +stolidly, drank red wine, and described to Nikitin how once in a +winter campaign he had stood all night up to his knees in a bog; +the enemy was so near that they were not allowed to speak or smoke, +the night was cold and dark, a piercing wind was blowing. Nikitin +listened and stole side-glances at Masha. She was gazing at him +immovably, without blinking, as though she was pondering something +or was lost in a reverie. . . . It was pleasure and agony to him +both at once. + +"Why does she look at me like that?" was the question that fretted +him. "It's awkward. People may notice it. Oh, how young, how naïve +she is!" + +The party broke up at midnight. When Nikitin went out at the gate, +a window opened on the first-floor, and Masha showed herself at it. + +"Sergey Vassilitch!" she called. + +"What is it?" + +"I tell you what . . ." said Masha, evidently thinking of something +to say. "I tell you what. . . Polyansky said he would come in a day +or two with his camera and take us all. We must meet here." + +"Very well." + +Masha vanished, the window was slammed, and some one immediately +began playing the piano in the house. + +"Well, it is a house!" thought Nikitin while he crossed the street. +"A house in which there is no moaning except from Egyptian pigeons, +and they only do it because they have no other means of expressing +their joy!" + +But the Shelestovs were not the only festive household. Nikitin had +not gone two hundred paces before he heard the strains of a piano +from another house. A little further he met a peasant playing the +balalaika at the gate. In the gardens the band struck up a potpourri +of Russian songs. + +Nikitin lived nearly half a mile from the Shelestoys' in a flat of +eight rooms at the rent of three hundred roubles a year, which he +shared with his colleague Ippolit Ippolititch, a teacher of geography +and history. When Nikitin went in this Ippolit Ippolititch, a +snub-nosed, middle-aged man with a reddish beard, with a coarse, +good-natured, unintellectual face like a workman's, was sitting at +the table correcting his pupils' maps. He considered that the most +important and necessary part of the study of geography was the +drawing of maps, and of the study of history the learning of dates: +he would sit for nights together correcting in blue pencil the maps +drawn by the boys and girls he taught, or making chronological +tables. + +"What a lovely day it has been!" said Nikitin, going in to him. "I +wonder at you--how can you sit indoors?" + +Ippolit Ippolititch was not a talkative person; he either remained +silent or talked of things which everybody knew already. Now what +he answered was: + +"Yes, very fine weather. It's May now; we soon shall have real +summer. And summer's a very different thing from winter. In the +winter you have to heat the stoves, but in summer you can keep warm +without. In summer you have your window open at night and still are +warm, and in winter you are cold even with the double frames in." + +Nikitin had not sat at the table for more than one minute before +he was bored. + +"Good-night!" he said, getting up and yawning. "I wanted to tell +you something romantic concerning myself, but you are--geography! +If one talks to you of love, you will ask one at once, 'What was +the date of the Battle of Kalka?' Confound you, with your battles +and your capes in Siberia!" + +"What are you cross about?" + +"Why, it is vexatious!" + +And vexed that he had not spoken to Masha, and that he had no one +to talk to of his love, he went to his study and lay down upon the +sofa. It was dark and still in the study. Lying gazing into the +darkness, Nikitin for some reason began thinking how in two or three +years he would go to Petersburg, how Masha would see him off at the +station and would cry; in Petersburg he would get a long letter +from her in which she would entreat him to come home as quickly as +possible. And he would write to her. . . . He would begin his letter +like that: "My dear little rat!" + +"Yes, my dear little rat!" he said, and he laughed. + +He was lying in an uncomfortable position. He put his arms under +his head and put his left leg over the back of the sofa. He felt +more comfortable. Meanwhile a pale light was more and more perceptible +at the windows, sleepy cocks crowed in the yard. Nikitin went on +thinking how he would come back from Petersburg, how Masha would +meet him at the station, and with a shriek of delight would fling +herself on his neck; or, better still, he would cheat her and come +home by stealth late at night: the cook would open the door, then +he would go on tiptoe to the bedroom, undress noiselessly, and jump +into bed! And she would wake up and be overjoyed. + +It was beginning to get quite light. By now there were no windows, +no study. On the steps of the brewery by which they had ridden that +day Masha was sitting, saying something. Then she took Nikitin by +the arm and went with him to the suburban garden. There he saw the +oaks and, the crows' nests like hats. One of the nests rocked; out +of it peeped Shebaldin, shouting loudly: "You have not read Lessing!" + +Nikitin shuddered all over and opened his eyes. Ippolit Ippolititch +was standing before the sofa, and throwing back his head, was putting +on his cravat. + +"Get up; it's time for school," he said. "You shouldn't sleep in +your clothes; it spoils your clothes. You should sleep in your bed, +undressed." + +And as usual he began slowly and emphatically saying what everybody +knew. + +Nikitin's first lesson was on Russian language in the second class. +When at nine o'clock punctually he went into the classroom, he saw +written on the blackboard two large letters--_M. S._ That, no +doubt, meant Masha Shelestov. + +"They've scented it out already, the rascals . . ." thought Nikitin. +"How is it they know everything?" + +The second lesson was in the fifth class. And there two letters, +_M. S._, were written on the blackboard; and when he went out of +the classroom at the end of the lesson, he heard the shout behind +him as though from a theatre gallery: + +"Hurrah for Masha Shelestov!" + +His head was heavy from sleeping in his clothes, his limbs were +weighted down with inertia. The boys, who were expecting every day +to break up before the examinations, did nothing, were restless, +and so bored that they got into mischief. Nikitin, too, was restless, +did not notice their pranks, and was continually going to the window. +He could see the street brilliantly lighted up with the sun; above +the houses the blue limpid sky, the birds, and far, far away, beyond +the gardens and the houses, vast indefinite distance, the forests +in the blue haze, the smoke from a passing train. . . . + +Here two officers in white tunics, playing with their whips, passed +in the street in the shade of the acacias. Here a lot of Jews, with +grey beards, and caps on, drove past in a waggonette. . . . The +governess walked by with the director's granddaughter. Som ran by +in the company of two other dogs. . . . And then Varya, wearing a +simple grey dress and red stockings, carrying the "Vyestnik Evropi" +in her hand, passed by. She must have been to the town library. . . . + +And it would be a long time before lessons were over at three +o'clock! And after school he could not go home nor to the Shelestovs', +but must go to give a lesson at Wolf's. This Wolf, a wealthy Jew +who had turned Lutheran, did not send his children to the high +school, but had them taught at home by the high-school masters, and +paid five roubles a lesson. + +He was bored, bored, bored. + +At three o'clock he went to Wolf's and spent there, as it seemed +to him, an eternity. He left there at five o'clock, and before seven +he had to be at the high school again to a meeting of the masters +--to draw up the plan for the _viva voce_ examination of the fourth +and sixth classes. + +When late in the evening he left the high school and went to the +Shelestovs', his heart was beating and his face was flushed. A month +before, even a week before, he had, every time that he made up his +mind to speak to her, prepared a whole speech, with an introduction +and a conclusion. Now he had not one word ready; everything was in +a muddle in his head, and all he knew was that today he would +_certainly_ declare himself, and that it was utterly impossible to +wait any longer. + +"I will ask her to come to the garden," he thought; "we'll walk +about a little and I'll speak." + +There was not a soul in the hall; he went into the dining-room and +then into the drawing-room. . . . There was no one there either. +He could hear Varya arguing with some one upstairs and the clink +of the dressmaker's scissors in the nursery. + +There was a little room in the house which had three names: the +little room, the passage room, and the dark room. There was a big +cupboard in it where they kept medicines, gunpowder, and their +hunting gear. Leading from this room to the first floor was a narrow +wooden staircase where cats were always asleep. There were two doors +in it--one leading to the nursery, one to the drawing-room. When +Nikitin went into this room to go upstairs, the door from the nursery +opened and shut with such a bang that it made the stairs and the +cupboard tremble; Masha, in a dark dress, ran in with a piece of +blue material in her hand, and, not noticing Nikitin, darted towards +the stairs. + +"Stay . . ." said Nikitin, stopping her. "Good-evening, Godefroi +. . . . Allow me. . . ." + +He gasped, he did not know what to say; with one hand he held her +hand and with the other the blue material. And she was half frightened, +half surprised, and looked at him with big eyes. + +"Allow me . . ." Nikitin went on, afraid she would go away. "There's +something I must say to you. . . . Only . . . it's inconvenient +here. I cannot, I am incapable. . . . Understand, Godefroi, I can't +--that's all . . . ." + +The blue material slipped on to the floor, and Nikitin took Masha +by the other hand. She turned pale, moved her lips, then stepped +back from Nikitin and found herself in the corner between the wall +and the cupboard. + +"On my honour, I assure you . . ." he said softly. "Masha, on my +honour. . . ." + +She threw back her head and he kissed her lips, and that the kiss +might last longer he put his fingers to her cheeks; and it somehow +happened that he found himself in the corner between the cupboard +and the wall, and she put her arms round his neck and pressed her +head against his chin. + +Then they both ran into the garden. The Shelestoys had a garden of +nine acres. There were about twenty old maples and lime-trees in +it; there was one fir-tree, and all the rest were fruit-trees: +cherries, apples, pears, horse-chestnuts, silvery olive-trees. . . . +There were heaps of flowers, too. + +Nikitin and Masha ran along the avenues in silence, laughed, asked +each other from time to time disconnected questions which they did +not answer. A crescent moon was shining over the garden, and drowsy +tulips and irises were stretching up from the dark grass in its +faint light, as though entreating for words of love for them, too. + +When Nikitin and Masha went back to the house, the officers and the +young ladies were already assembled and dancing the mazurka. Again +Polyansky led the grand chain through all the rooms, again after +dancing they played "fate." Before supper, when the visitors had +gone into the dining-room, Masha, left alone with Nikitin, pressed +close to him and said: + +"You must speak to papa and Varya yourself; I am ashamed." + +After supper he talked to the old father. After listening to him, +Shelestov thought a little and said: + +"I am very grateful for the honour you do me and my daughter, but +let me speak to you as a friend. I will speak to you, not as a +father, but as one gentleman to another. Tell me, why do you want +to be married so young? Only peasants are married so young, and +that, of course, is loutishness. But why should you? Where's the +satisfaction of putting on the fetters at your age?" + +"I am not young!" said Nikitin, offended. "I am in my twenty-seventh +year." + +"Papa, the farrier has come!" cried Varya from the other room. + +And the conversation broke off. Varya, Masha, and Polyansky saw +Nikitin home. When they reached his gate, Varya said: + +"Why is it your mysterious Metropolit Metropolititch never shows +himself anywhere? He might come and see us." + +The mysterious Ippolit Ippolititch was sitting on his bed, taking +off his trousers, when Nikitin went in to him. + +"Don't go to bed, my dear fellow," said Nikitin breathlessly. "Stop +a minute; don't go to bed!" + +Ippolit Ippolititch put on his trousers hurriedly and asked in a +flutter: + +"What is it?" + +"I am going to be married." + +Nikitin sat down beside his companion, and looking at him wonderingly, +as though surprised at himself, said: + +"Only fancy, I am going to be married! To Masha Shelestov! I made +an offer today." + +"Well? She seems a good sort of girl. Only she is very young." + +"Yes, she is young," sighed Nikitin, and shrugged his shoulders +with a careworn air. "Very, very young!" + +"She was my pupil at the high school. I know her. She wasn't bad +at geography, but she was no good at history. And she was inattentive +in class, too." + +Nikitin for some reason felt suddenly sorry for his companion, and +longed to say something kind and comforting to him. + +"My dear fellow, why don't you get married?" he asked. "Why don't +you marry Varya, for instance? She is a splendid, first-rate girl! +It's true she is very fond of arguing, but a heart . . . what a +heart! She was just asking about you. Marry her, my dear boy! Eh?" + +He knew perfectly well that Varya would not marry this dull, +snub-nosed man, but still persuaded him to marry her--why? + +"Marriage is a serious step," said Ippolit Ippolititch after a +moment's thought. "One has to look at it all round and weigh things +thoroughly; it's not to be done rashly. Prudence is always a good +thing, and especially in marriage, when a man, ceasing to be a +bachelor, begins a new life." + +And he talked of what every one has known for ages. Nikitin did not +stay to listen, said goodnight, and went to his own room. He undressed +quickly and quickly got into bed, in order to be able to think the +sooner of his happiness, of Masha, of the future; he smiled, then +suddenly recalled that he had not read Lessing. + +"I must read him," he thought. "Though, after all, why should I? +Bother him!" + +And exhausted by his happiness, he fell asleep at once and went on +smiling till the morning. + +He dreamed of the thud of horses' hoofs on a wooden floor; he dreamed +of the black horse Count Nulin, then of the white Giant and its +sister Maika, being led out of the stable. + +II + +"It was very crowded and noisy in the church, and once some one +cried out, and the head priest, who was marrying Masha and me, +looked through his spectacles at the crowd, and said severely: +'Don't move about the church, and don't make a noise, but stand +quietly and pray. You should have the fear of God in your hearts.' + +"My best men were two of my colleagues, and Masha's best men were +Captain Polyansky and Lieutenant Gernet. The bishop's choir sang +superbly. The sputtering of the candles, the brilliant light, the +gorgeous dresses, the officers, the numbers of gay, happy faces, +and a special ethereal look in Masha, everything together--the +surroundings and the words of the wedding prayers--moved me to +tears and filled me with triumph. I thought how my life had blossomed, +how poetically it was shaping itself! Two years ago I was still a +student, I was living in cheap furnished rooms, without money, +without relations, and, as I fancied then, with nothing to look +forward to. Now I am a teacher in the high school in one of the +best provincial towns, with a secure income, loved, spoiled. It is +for my sake, I thought, this crowd is collected, for my sake three +candelabra have been lighted, the deacon is booming, the choir is +doing its best; and it's for my sake that this young creature, whom +I soon shall call my wife, is so young, so elegant, and so joyful. +I recalled our first meetings, our rides into the country, my +declaration of love and the weather, which, as though expressly, +was so exquisitely fine all the summer; and the happiness which at +one time in my old rooms seemed to me possible only in novels and +stories, I was now experiencing in reality--I was now, as it were, +holding it in my hands. + +"After the ceremony they all crowded in disorder round Masha and +me, expressed their genuine pleasure, congratulated us and wished +us joy. The brigadier-general, an old man of seventy, confined +himself to congratulating Masha, and said to her in a squeaky, aged +voice, so loud that it could be heard all over the church: + +"'I hope that even after you are married you may remain the rose +you are now, my dear.' + +"The officers, the director, and all the teachers smiled from +politeness, and I was conscious of an agreeable artificial smile +on my face, too. Dear Ippolit Ippolititch, the teacher of history +and geography, who always says what every one has heard before, +pressed my hand warmly and said with feeling: + +"'Hitherto you have been unmarried and have lived alone, and now +you are married and no longer single.' + +"From the church we went to a two-storied house which I am receiving +as part of the dowry. Besides that house Masha is bringing me twenty +thousand roubles, as well as a piece of waste land with a shanty +on it, where I am told there are numbers of hens and ducks which +are not looked after and are turning wild. When I got home from the +church, I stretched myself at full length on the low sofa in my new +study and began to smoke; I felt snug, cosy, and comfortable, as I +never had in my life before. And meanwhile the wedding party were +shouting 'Hurrah!' while a wretched band in the hall played flourishes +and all sorts of trash. Varya, Masha's sister, ran into the study +with a wineglass in her hand, and with a queer, strained expression, +as though her mouth were full of water; apparently she had meant +to go on further, but she suddenly burst out laughing and sobbing, +and the wineglass crashed on the floor. We took her by the arms and +led her away. + +"'Nobody can understand!' she muttered afterwards, lying on the +old nurse's bed in a back room. 'Nobody, nobody! My God, nobody can +understand!' + +"But every one understood very well that she was four years older +than her sister Masha, and still unmarried, and that she was crying, +not from envy, but from the melancholy consciousness that her time +was passing, and perhaps had passed. When they danced the quadrille, +she was back in the drawing-room with a tear-stained and heavily +powdered face, and I saw Captain Polyansky holding a plate of ice +before her while she ate it with a spoon. + +"It is past five o'clock in the morning. I took up my diary to +describe my complete and perfect happiness, and thought I would +write a good six pages, and read it tomorrow to Masha; but, strange +to say, everything is muddled in my head and as misty as a dream, +and I can remember vividly nothing but that episode with Varya, and +I want to write, 'Poor Varya!' I could go on sitting here and writing +'Poor Varya!' By the way, the trees have begun rustling; it will +rain. The crows are cawing, and my Masha, who has just gone to +sleep, has for some reason a sorrowful face." + +For a long while afterwards Nikitin did not write his diary. At the +beginning of August he had the school examinations, and after the +fifteenth the classes began. As a rule he set off for school before +nine in the morning, and before ten o'clock he was looking at his +watch and pining for his Masha and his new house. In the lower forms +he would set some boy to dictate, and while the boys were writing, +would sit in the window with his eyes shut, dreaming; whether he +dreamed of the future or recalled the past, everything seemed to +him equally delightful, like a fairy tale. In the senior classes +they were reading aloud Gogol or Pushkin's prose works, and that +made him sleepy; people, trees, fields, horses, rose before his +imagination, and he would say with a sigh, as though fascinated by +the author: + +"How lovely!" + +At the midday recess Masha used to send him lunch in a snow-white +napkin, and he would eat it slowly, with pauses, to prolong the +enjoyment of it; and Ippolit Ippolititch, whose lunch as a rule +consisted of nothing but bread, looked at him with respect and envy, +and gave expression to some familiar fact, such as: + +"Men cannot live without food." + +After school Nikitin went straight to give his private lessons, and +when at last by six o'clock he got home, he felt excited and anxious, +as though he had been away for a year. He would run upstairs +breathless, find Masha, throw his arms round her, and kiss her and +swear that he loved her, that he could not live without her, declare +that he had missed her fearfully, and ask her in trepidation how +she was and why she looked so depressed. Then they would dine +together. After dinner he would lie on the sofa in his study and +smoke, while she sat beside him and talked in a low voice. + +His happiest days now were Sundays and holidays, when he was at +home from morning till evening. On those days he took part in the +naïve but extraordinarily pleasant life which reminded him of a +pastoral idyl. He was never weary of watching how his sensible and +practical Masha was arranging her nest, and anxious to show that +he was of some use in the house, he would do something useless-- +for instance, bring the chaise out of the stable and look at it +from every side. Masha had installed a regular dairy with three +cows, and in her cellar she had many jugs of milk and pots of sour +cream, and she kept it all for butter. Sometimes, by way of a joke, +Nikitin would ask her for a glass of milk, and she would be quite +upset because it was against her rules; but he would laugh and throw +his arms round her, saying: + +"There, there; I was joking, my darling! I was joking!" + +Or he would laugh at her strictness when, finding in the cupboard +some stale bit of cheese or sausage as hard as a stone, she would +say seriously: + +"They will eat that in the kitchen." + +He would observe that such a scrap was only fit for a mousetrap, +and she would reply warmly that men knew nothing about housekeeping, +and that it was just the same to the servants if you were to send +down a hundredweight of savouries to the kitchen. He would agree, +and embrace her enthusiastically. Everything that was just in what +she said seemed to him extraordinary and amazing; and what did not +fit in with his convictions seemed to him naïve and touching. + +Sometimes he was in a philosophical mood, and he would begin to +discuss some abstract subject while she listened and looked at his +face with curiosity. + +"I am immensely happy with you, my joy," he used to say, playing +with her fingers or plaiting and unplaiting her hair. "But I don't +look upon this happiness of mine as something that has come to me +by chance, as though it had dropped from heaven. This happiness is +a perfectly natural, consistent, logical consequence. I believe +that man is the creator of his own happiness, and now I am enjoying +just what I have myself created. Yes, I speak without false modesty: +I have created this happiness myself and I have a right to it. You +know my past. My unhappy childhood, without father or mother; my +depressing youth, poverty--all this was a struggle, all this was +the path by which I made my way to happiness. . . ." + +In October the school sustained a heavy loss: Ippolit Ippolititch +was taken ill with erysipelas on the head and died. For two days +before his death he was unconscious and delirious, but even in his +delirium he said nothing that was not perfectly well known to every +one. + +"The Volga flows into the Caspian Sea. . . . Horses eat oats and +hay. . . ." + +There were no lessons at the high school on the day of his funeral. +His colleagues and pupils were the coffin-bearers, and the school +choir sang all the way to the grave the anthem "Holy God." Three +priests, two deacons, all his pupils and the staff of the boys' +high school, and the bishop's choir in their best kaftans, took +part in the procession. And passers-by who met the solemn procession, +crossed themselves and said: + +"God grant us all such a death." + +Returning home from the cemetery much moved, Nikitin got out his +diary from the table and wrote: + +"We have just consigned to the tomb Ippolit Ippolititch Ryzhitsky. +Peace to your ashes, modest worker! Masha, Varya, and all the women +at the funeral, wept from genuine feeling, perhaps because they +knew this uninteresting, humble man had never been loved by a woman. +I wanted to say a warm word at my colleague's grave, but I was +warned that this might displease the director, as he did not like +our poor friend. I believe that this is the first day since my +marriage that my heart has been heavy." + +There was no other event of note in the scholastic year. + +The winter was mild, with wet snow and no frost; on Epiphany Eve, +for instance, the wind howled all night as though it were autumn, +and water trickled off the roofs; and in the morning, at the ceremony +of the blessing of the water, the police allowed no one to go on +the river, because they said the ice was swelling up and looked +dark. But in spite of bad weather Nikitin's life was as happy as +in summer. And, indeed, he acquired another source of pleasure; he +learned to play _vint_. Only one thing troubled him, moved him to +anger, and seemed to prevent him from being perfectly happy: the +cats and dogs which formed part of his wife's dowry. The rooms, +especially in the morning, always smelt like a menagerie, and nothing +could destroy the odour; the cats frequently fought with the dogs. +The spiteful beast Mushka was fed a dozen times a day; she still +refused to recognize Nikitin and growled at him: "Rrr . . . +nga-nga-nga!" + +One night in Lent he was returning home from the club where he had +been playing cards. It was dark, raining, and muddy. Nikitin had +an unpleasant feeling at the bottom of his heart and could not +account for it. He did not know whether it was because he had lost +twelve roubles at cards, or whether because one of the players, +when they were settling up, had said that of course Nikitin had +pots of money, with obvious reference to his wife's portion. He did +not regret the twelve roubles, and there was nothing offensive in +what had been said; but, still, there was the unpleasant feeling. +He did not even feel a desire to go home. + +"Foo, how horrid!" he said, standing still at a lamp-post. + +It occurred to him that he did not regret the twelve roubles because +he got them for nothing. If he had been a working man he would have +known the value of every farthing, and would not have been so +careless whether he lost or won. And his good-fortune had all, he +reflected, come to him by chance, for nothing, and really was as +superfluous for him as medicine for the healthy. If, like the vast +majority of people, he had been harassed by anxiety for his daily +bread, had been struggling for existence, if his back and chest had +ached from work, then supper, a warm snug home, and domestic +happiness, would have been the necessity, the compensation, the +crown of his life; as it was, all this had a strange, indefinite +significance for him. + +"Foo, how horrid!" he repeated, knowing perfectly well that these +reflections were in themselves a bad sign. + +When he got home Masha was in bed: she was breathing evenly and +smiling, and was evidently sleeping with great enjoyment. Near her +the white cat lay curled up, purring. While Nikitin lit the candle +and lighted his cigarette, Masha woke up and greedily drank a glass +of water. + +"I ate too many sweets," she said, and laughed. "Have you been +home?" she asked after a pause. + +"No." + +Nikitin knew already that Captain Polyansky, on whom Varya had been +building great hopes of late, was being transferred to one of the +western provinces, and was already making his farewell visits in +the town, and so it was depressing at his father-in-law's. + +"Varya looked in this evening," said Masha, sitting up. "She did +not say anything, but one could see from her face how wretched she +is, poor darling! I can't bear Polyansky. He is fat and bloated, +and when he walks or dances his cheeks shake. . . . He is not a man +I would choose. But, still, I did think he was a decent person." + +"I think he is a decent person now," said Nikitin. + +"Then why has he treated Varya so badly?" + +"Why badly?" asked Nikitin, beginning to feel irritation against +the white cat, who was stretching and arching its back. "As far as +I know, he has made no proposal and has given her no promises." + +"Then why was he so often at the house? If he didn't mean to marry +her, he oughtn't to have come." + +Nikitin put out the candle and got into bed. But he felt disinclined +to lie down and to sleep. He felt as though his head were immense +and empty as a barn, and that new, peculiar thoughts were wandering +about in it like tall shadows. He thought that, apart from the soft +light of the ikon lamp, that beamed upon their quiet domestic +happiness, that apart from this little world in which he and this +cat lived so peacefully and happily, there was another world. . . . +And he had a passionate, poignant longing to be in that other +world, to work himself at some factory or big workshop, to address +big audiences, to write, to publish, to raise a stir, to exhaust +himself, to suffer. . . . He wanted something that would engross +him till he forgot himself, ceased to care for the personal happiness +which yielded him only sensations so monotonous. And suddenly there +rose vividly before his imagination the figure of Shebaldin with +his clean-shaven face, saying to him with horror: "You haven't even +read Lessing! You are quite behind the times! How you have gone to +seed!" + +Masha woke up and again drank some water. He glanced at her neck, +at her plump shoulders and throat, and remembered the word the +brigadier-general had used in church--"rose." + +"Rose," he muttered, and laughed. + +His laugh was answered by a sleepy growl from Mushka under the bed: +"Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga . . . !" + +A heavy anger sank like a cold weight on his heart, and he felt +tempted to say something rude to Masha, and even to jump up and hit +her; his heart began throbbing. + +"So then," he asked, restraining himself, "since I went to your +house, I was bound in duty to marry you?" + +"Of course. You know that very well." + +"That's nice." And a minute later he repeated: "That's nice." + +To relieve the throbbing of his heart, and to avoid saying too much, +Nikitin went to his study and lay down on the sofa, without a pillow; +then he lay on the floor on the carpet. + +"What nonsense it is!" he said to reassure himself. "You are a +teacher, you are working in the noblest of callings. . . . What +need have you of any other world? What rubbish!" + +But almost immediately he told himself with conviction that he was +not a real teacher, but simply a government employé, as commonplace +and mediocre as the Czech who taught Greek. He had never had a +vocation for teaching, he knew nothing of the theory of teaching, +and never had been interested in the subject; he did not know how +to treat children; he did not understand the significance of what +he taught, and perhaps did not teach the right things. Poor Ippolit +Ippolititch had been frankly stupid, and all the boys, as well as +his colleagues, knew what he was and what to expect from him; but +he, Nikitin, like the Czech, knew how to conceal his stupidity and +cleverly deceived every one by pretending that, thank God, his +teaching was a success. These new ideas frightened Nikitin; he +rejected them, called them stupid, and believed that all this was +due to his nerves, that he would laugh at himself. + +And he did, in fact, by the morning laugh at himself and call himself +an old woman; but it was clear to him that his peace of mind was +lost, perhaps, for ever, and that in that little two-story house +happiness was henceforth impossible for him. He realized that the +illusion had evaporated, and that a new life of unrest and clear +sight was beginning which was incompatible with peace and personal +happiness. + +Next day, which was Sunday, he was at the school chapel, and there +met his colleagues and the director. It seemed to him that they +were entirely preoccupied with concealing their ignorance and +discontent with life, and he, too, to conceal his uneasiness, smiled +affably and talked of trivialities. Then he went to the station and +saw the mail train come in and go out, and it was agreeable to him +to be alone and not to have to talk to any one. + +At home he found Varya and his father-in-law, who had come to dinner. +Varya's eyes were red with crying, and she complained of a headache, +while Shelestov ate a great deal, saying that young men nowadays +were unreliable, and that there was very little gentlemanly feeling +among them. + +"It's loutishness!" he said. "I shall tell him so to his face: 'It's +loutishness, sir,' I shall say." + +Nikitin smiled affably and helped Masha to look after their guests, +but after dinner he went to his study and shut the door. + +The March sun was shining brightly in at the windows and shedding +its warm rays on the table. It was only the twentieth of the month, +but already the cabmen were driving with wheels, and the starlings +were noisy in the garden. It was just the weather in which Masha +would come in, put one arm round his neck, tell him the horses were +saddled or the chaise was at the door, and ask him what she should +put on to keep warm. Spring was beginning as exquisitely as last +spring, and it promised the same joys. . . . But Nikitin was thinking +that it would be nice to take a holiday and go to Moscow, and stay +at his old lodgings there. In the next room they were drinking +coffee and talking of Captain Polyansky, while he tried not to +listen and wrote in his diary: "Where am I, my God? I am surrounded +by vulgarity and vulgarity. Wearisome, insignificant people, pots +of sour cream, jugs of milk, cockroaches, stupid women. . . . There +is nothing more terrible, mortifying, and distressing than vulgarity. +I must escape from here, I must escape today, or I shall go out of +my mind!" + + +NOT WANTED + +BETWEEN six and seven o'clock on a July evening, a crowd of summer +visitors--mostly fathers of families--burdened with parcels, +portfolios, and ladies' hat-boxes, was trailing along from the +little station of Helkovo, in the direction of the summer villas. +They all looked exhausted, hungry, and ill-humoured, as though the +sun were not shining and the grass were not green for them. + +Trudging along among the others was Pavel Matveyitch Zaikin, a +member of the Circuit Court, a tall, stooping man, in a cheap cotton +dust-coat and with a cockade on his faded cap. He was perspiring, +red in the face, and gloomy. . . . + +"Do you come out to your holiday home every day?" said a summer +visitor, in ginger-coloured trousers, addressing him. + +"No, not every day," Zaikin answered sullenly. "My wife and son are +staying here all the while, and I come down two or three times a +week. I haven't time to come every day; besides, it is expensive." + +"You're right there; it is expensive," sighed he of the ginger +trousers. "In town you can't walk to the station, you have to take +a cab; and then, the ticket costs forty-two kopecks; you buy a paper +for the journey; one is tempted to drink a glass of vodka. It's all +petty expenditure not worth considering, but, mind you, in the +course of the summer it will run up to some two hundred roubles. +Of course, to be in the lap of Nature is worth any money--I don't +dispute it . . . idyllic and all the rest of it; but of course, +with the salary an official gets, as you know yourself, every +farthing has to be considered. If you waste a halfpenny you lie +awake all night. . . . Yes. . . I receive, my dear sir--I haven't +the honour of knowing your name--I receive a salary of very nearly +two thousand roubles a year. I am a civil councillor, I smoke +second-rate tobacco, and I haven't a rouble to spare to buy Vichy +water, prescribed me by the doctor for gall-stones." + +"It's altogether abominable," said Zaikin after a brief silence. +"I maintain, sir, that summer holidays are the invention of the +devil and of woman. The devil was actuated in the present instance +by malice, woman by excessive frivolity. Mercy on us, it is not +life at all; it is hard labour, it is hell! It's hot and stifling, +you can hardly breathe, and you wander about like a lost soul and +can find no refuge. In town there is no furniture, no servants. . . +everything has been carried off to the villa: you eat what you +can get; you go without your tea because there is no one to heat +the samovar; you can't wash yourself; and when you come down here +into this 'lap of Nature' you have to walk, if you please, through +the dust and heat. . . . Phew! Are you married?" + +"Yes. . . three children," sighs Ginger Trousers. + +"It's abominable altogether. . . . It's a wonder we are still alive." + +At last the summer visitors reached their destination. Zaikin said +good-bye to Ginger Trousers and went into his villa. He found a +death-like silence in the house. He could hear nothing but the +buzzing of the gnats, and the prayer for help of a fly destined for +the dinner of a spider. The windows were hung with muslin curtains, +through which the faded flowers of the geraniums showed red. On the +unpainted wooden walls near the oleographs flies were slumbering. +There was not a soul in the passage, the kitchen, or the dining-room. +In the room which was called indifferently the parlour or the +drawing-room, Zaikin found his son Petya, a little boy of six. Petya +was sitting at the table, and breathing loudly with his lower lip +stuck out, was engaged in cutting out the figure of a knave of +diamonds from a card. + +"Oh, that's you, father!" he said, without turning round. "Good-evening." + +"Good-evening. . . . And where is mother?" + +"Mother? She is gone with Olga Kirillovna to a rehearsal of the +play. The day after tomorrow they will have a performance. And they +will take me, too. . . . And will you go?" + +"H'm! . . . When is she coming back?" + +"She said she would be back in the evening." + +"And where is Natalya?" + +"Mamma took Natalya with her to help her dress for the performance, +and Akulina has gone to the wood to get mushrooms. Father, why is +it that when gnats bite you their stomachs get red?" + +"I don't know. . . . Because they suck blood. So there is no one +in the house, then?" + +"No one; I am all alone in the house." + +Zaikin sat down in an easy-chair, and for a moment gazed blankly +at the window. + +"Who is going to get our dinner?" he asked. + +"They haven't cooked any dinner today, father. Mamma thought you +were not coming today, and did not order any dinner. She is going +to have dinner with Olga Kirillovna at the rehearsal." + +"Oh, thank you very much; and you, what have you to eat?" + +"I've had some milk. They bought me six kopecks' worth of milk. +And, father, why do gnats suck blood?" + +Zaikin suddenly felt as though something heavy were rolling down +on his liver and beginning to gnaw it. He felt so vexed, so aggrieved, +and so bitter, that he was choking and tremulous; he wanted to jump +up, to bang something on the floor, and to burst into loud abuse; +but then he remembered that his doctor had absolutely forbidden him +all excitement, so he got up, and making an effort to control +himself, began whistling a tune from "Les Huguenots." + +"Father, can you act in plays?" he heard Petya's voice. + +"Oh, don't worry me with stupid questions!" said Zaikin, getting +angry. "He sticks to one like a leaf in the bath! Here you are, six +years old, and just as silly as you were three years ago. . . . +Stupid, neglected child! Why are you spoiling those cards, for +instance? How dare you spoil them?" + +"These cards aren't yours," said Petya, turning round. "Natalya +gave them me." + +"You are telling fibs, you are telling fibs, you horrid boy!" said +Zaikin, growing more and more irritated. "You are always telling +fibs! You want a whipping, you horrid little pig! I will pull your +ears!" + +Petya leapt up, and craning his neck, stared fixedly at his father's +red and wrathful face. His big eyes first began blinking, then were +dimmed with moisture, and the boy's face began working. + +"But why are you scolding?" squealed Petya. "Why do you attack me, +you stupid? I am not interfering with anybody; I am not naughty; I +do what I am told, and yet . . . you are cross! Why are you scolding +me?" + +The boy spoke with conviction, and wept so bitterly that Zaikin +felt conscience-stricken. + +"Yes, really, why am I falling foul of him?" he thought. "Come, +come," he said, touching the boy on the shoulder. "I am sorry, Petya +. . . forgive me. You are my good boy, my nice boy, I love you." + +Petya wiped his eyes with his sleeve, sat down, with a sigh, in the +same place and began cutting out the queen. Zaikin went off to his +own room. He stretched himself on the sofa, and putting his hands +behind his head, sank into thought. The boy's tears had softened +his anger, and by degrees the oppression on his liver grew less. +He felt nothing but exhaustion and hunger. + +"Father," he heard on the other side of the door, "shall I show you +my collection of insects?" + +"Yes, show me." + +Petya came into the study and handed his father a long green box. +Before raising it to his ear Zaikin could hear a despairing buzz +and the scratching of claws on the sides of the box. Opening the +lid, he saw a number of butterflies, beetles, grasshoppers, and +flies fastened to the bottom of the box with pins. All except two +or three butterflies were still alive and moving. + +"Why, the grasshopper is still alive!" said Petya in surprise. "I +caught him yesterday morning, and he is still alive!" + +"Who taught you to pin them in this way?" + +"Olga Kirillovna." + +"Olga Kirillovna ought to be pinned down like that herself!" said +Zaikin with repulsion. "Take them away! It's shameful to torture +animals." + +"My God! How horribly he is being brought up!" he thought, as Petya +went out. + +Pavel Matveyitch forgot his exhaustion and hunger, and thought of +nothing but his boy's future. Meanwhile, outside the light was +gradually fading. . . . He could hear the summer visitors trooping +back from the evening bathe. Some one was stopping near the open +dining-room window and shouting: "Do you want any mushrooms?" And +getting no answer, shuffled on with bare feet. . . . But at last, +when the dusk was so thick that the outlines of the geraniums behind +the muslin curtain were lost, and whiffs of the freshness of evening +were coming in at the window, the door of the passage was thrown +open noisily, and there came a sound of rapid footsteps, talk, and +laughter. . . . + +"Mamma!" shrieked Petya. + +Zaikin peeped out of his study and saw his wife, Nadyezhda Stepanovna, +healthy and rosy as ever; with her he saw Olga Kirillovna, a spare +woman with fair hair and heavy freckles, and two unknown men: one +a lanky young man with curly red hair and a big Adam's apple; the +other, a short stubby man with a shaven face like an actor's and a +bluish crooked chin. + +"Natalya, set the samovar," cried Nadyezhda Stepanovna, with a loud +rustle of her skirts. "I hear Pavel Matveyitch is come. Pavel, where +are you? Good-evening, Pavel!" she said, running into the study +breathlessly. "So you've come. I am so glad. . . . Two of our +amateurs have come with me. . . . Come, I'll introduce you. . . . +Here, the taller one is Koromyslov . . . he sings splendidly; and +the other, the little one . . . is called Smerkalov: he is a real +actor . . . he recites magnificently. Oh, how tired I am! We have +just had a rehearsal. . . . It goes splendidly. We are acting 'The +Lodger with the Trombone' and 'Waiting for Him.' . . . The performance +is the day after tomorrow. . . ." + +"Why did you bring them?" asked Zaikin. + +"I couldn't help it, Poppet; after tea we must rehearse our parts +and sing something. . . . I am to sing a duet with Koromyslov. . . . +Oh, yes, I was almost forgetting! Darling, send Natalya to get +some sardines, vodka, cheese, and something else. They will most +likely stay to supper. . . . Oh, how tired I am!" + +"H'm! I've no money." + +"You must, Poppet! It would be awkward! Don't make me blush." + +Half an hour later Natalya was sent for vodka and savouries; Zaikin, +after drinking tea and eating a whole French loaf, went to his +bedroom and lay down on the bed, while Nadyezhda Stepanovna and her +visitors, with much noise and laughter, set to work to rehearse +their parts. For a long time Pavel Matveyitch heard Koromyslov's +nasal reciting and Smerkalov's theatrical exclamations. . . . The +rehearsal was followed by a long conversation, interrupted by the +shrill laughter of Olga Kirillovna. Smerkalov, as a real actor, +explained the parts with aplomb and heat. . . . + +Then followed the duet, and after the duet there was the clatter +of crockery. . . . Through his drowsiness Zaikin heard them persuading +Smerkalov to read "The Woman who was a Sinner," and heard him, after +affecting to refuse, begin to recite. He hissed, beat himself on +the breast, wept, laughed in a husky bass. . . . Zaikin scowled and +hid his head under the quilt. + +"It's a long way for you to go, and it's dark," he heard Nadyezhda +Stepanovna's voice an hour later. "Why shouldn't you stay the night +here? Koromyslov can sleep here in the drawing-room on the sofa, +and you, Smerkalov, in Petya's bed. . . . I can put Petya in my +husband's study. . . . Do stay, really!" + +At last when the clock was striking two, all was hushed, the bedroom +door opened, and Nadyezhda Stepanovna appeared. + +"Pavel, are you asleep?" she whispered. + +"No; why?" + +"Go into your study, darling, and lie on the sofa. I am going to +put Olga Kirillovna here, in your bed. Do go, dear! I would put her +to sleep in the study, but she is afraid to sleep alone. . . . Do +get up!" + +Zaikin got up, threw on his dressing-gown, and taking his pillow, +crept wearily to the study. . . . Feeling his way to his sofa, he +lighted a match, and saw Petya lying on the sofa. The boy was not +asleep, and, looking at the match with wide-open eyes: + +"Father, why is it gnats don't go to sleep at night?" he asked. + +"Because . . . because . . . you and I are not wanted. . . . We +have nowhere to sleep even." + +"Father, and why is it Olga Kirillovna has freckles on her face?" + +"Oh, shut up! I am tired of you." + +After a moment's thought, Zaikin dressed and went out into the +street for a breath of air. . . . He looked at the grey morning +sky, at the motionless clouds, heard the lazy call of the drowsy +corncrake, and began dreaming of the next day, when he would go to +town, and coming back from the court would tumble into bed. . . . +Suddenly the figure of a man appeared round the corner. + +"A watchman, no doubt," thought Zaikin. But going nearer and looking +more closely he recognized in the figure the summer visitor in the +ginger trousers. + +"You're not asleep?" he asked. + +"No, I can't sleep," sighed Ginger Trousers. "I am enjoying Nature +. . . . A welcome visitor, my wife's mother, arrived by the night +train, you know. She brought with her our nieces . . . splendid +girls! I was delighted to see them, although . . . it's very damp! +And you, too, are enjoying Nature?" + +"Yes," grunted Zaikin, "I am enjoying it, too. . . . Do you know +whether there is any sort of tavern or restaurant in the neighbourhood?" + +Ginger Trousers raised his eyes to heaven and meditated profoundly. + + +TYPHUS + +A YOUNG lieutenant called Klimov was travelling from Petersburg to +Moscow in a smoking carriage of the mail train. Opposite him was +sitting an elderly man with a shaven face like a sea captain's, by +all appearances a well-to-do Finn or Swede. He pulled at his pipe +the whole journey and kept talking about the same subject: + +"Ha, you are an officer! I have a brother an officer too, only he +is a naval officer. . . . He is a naval officer, and he is stationed +at Kronstadt. Why are you going to Moscow?" + +"I am serving there." + +"Ha! And are you a family man?" + +"No, I live with my sister and aunt." + +"My brother's an officer, only he is a naval officer; he has a wife +and three children. Ha!" + +The Finn seemed continually surprised at something, and gave a broad +idiotic grin when he exclaimed "Ha!" and continually puffed at his +stinking pipe. Klimov, who for some reason did not feel well, and +found it burdensome to answer questions, hated him with all his +heart. He dreamed of how nice it would be to snatch the wheezing +pipe out of his hand and fling it under the seat, and drive the +Finn himself into another compartment. + +"Detestable people these Finns and . . . Greeks," he thought. +"Absolutely superfluous, useless, detestable people. They simply +fill up space on the earthly globe. What are they for?" + +And the thought of Finns and Greeks produced a feeling akin to +sickness all over his body. For the sake of comparison he tried to +think of the French, of the Italians, but his efforts to think of +these people evoked in his mind, for some reason, nothing but images +of organ-grinders, naked women, and the foreign oleographs which +hung over the chest of drawers at home, at his aunt's. + +Altogether the officer felt in an abnormal state. He could not +arrange his arms and legs comfortably on the seat, though he had +the whole seat to himself. His mouth felt dry and sticky; there was +a heavy fog in his brain; his thoughts seemed to be straying, not +only within his head, but outside his skull, among the seats and +the people that were shrouded in the darkness of night. Through the +mist in his brain, as through a dream, he heard the murmur of voices, +the rumble of wheels, the slamming of doors. The sounds of the +bells, the whistles, the guards, the running to and fro of passengers +on the platforms, seemed more frequent than usual. The time flew +by rapidly, imperceptibly, and so it seemed as though the train +were stopping at stations every minute, and metallic voices crying +continually: + +"Is the mail ready?" + +"Yes!" was repeatedly coming from outside. + +It seemed as though the man in charge of the heating came in too +often to look at the thermometer, that the noise of trains going +in the opposite direction and the rumble of the wheels over the +bridges was incessant. The noise, the whistles, the Finn, the tobacco +smoke--all this mingling with the menace and flickering of the +misty images in his brain, the shape and character of which a man +in health can never recall, weighed upon Klimov like an unbearable +nightmare. In horrible misery he lifted his heavy head, looked at +the lamp in the rays of which shadows and misty blurs seemed to be +dancing. He wanted to ask for water, but his parched tongue would +hardly move, and he scarcely had strength to answer the Finn's +questions. He tried to lie down more comfortably and go to sleep, +but he could not succeed. The Finn several times fell asleep, woke +up again, lighted his pipe, addressed him with his "Ha!" and went +to sleep again; and still the lieutenant's legs could not get into +a comfortable position, and still the menacing images stood facing +him. + +At Spirovo he went out into the station for a drink of water. He +saw people sitting at the table and hurriedly eating. + +"And how can they eat!" he thought, trying not to sniff the air, +that smelt of roast meat, and not to look at the munching mouths +--they both seemed to him sickeningly disgusting. + +A good-looking lady was conversing loudly with a military man in a +red cap, and showing magnificent white teeth as she smiled; and the +smile, and the teeth, and the lady herself made on Klimov the same +revolting impression as the ham and the rissoles. He could not +understand how it was the military man in the red cap was not ill +at ease, sitting beside her and looking at her healthy, smiling +face. + +When after drinking some water he went back to his carriage, the +Finn was sitting smoking; his pipe was wheezing and squelching like +a golosh with holes in it in wet weather. + +"Ha!" he said, surprised; "what station is this?" + +"I don't know," answered Klimov, lying down and shutting his mouth +that he might not breathe the acrid tobacco smoke. + +"And when shall we reach Tver?" + +"I don't know. Excuse me, I . . . I can't answer. I am ill. I caught +cold today." + +The Finn knocked his pipe against the window-frame and began talking +of his brother, the naval officer. Klimov no longer heard him; he +was thinking miserably of his soft, comfortable bed, of a bottle +of cold water, of his sister Katya, who was so good at making one +comfortable, soothing, giving one water. He even smiled when the +vision of his orderly Pavel, taking off his heavy stifling boots +and putting water on the little table, flitted through his imagination. +He fancied that if he could only get into his bed, have a drink of +water, his nightmare would give place to sound healthy sleep. + +"Is the mail ready?" a hollow voice reached him from the distance. + +"Yes," answered a bass voice almost at the window. + +It was already the second or third station from Spirovo. + +The time was flying rapidly in leaps and bounds, and it seemed as +though the bells, whistles, and stoppings would never end. In despair +Klimov buried his face in the corner of the seat, clutched his head +in his hands, and began again thinking of his sister Katya and his +orderly Pavel, but his sister and his orderly were mixed up with +the misty images in his brain, whirled round, and disappeared. His +burning breath, reflected from the back of the seat, seemed to scald +his face; his legs were uncomfortable; there was a draught from the +window on his back; but, however wretched he was, he did not want +to change his position. . . . A heavy nightmarish lethargy gradually +gained possession of him and fettered his limbs. + +When he brought himself to raise his head, it was already light in +the carriage. The passengers were putting on their fur coats and +moving about. The train was stopping. Porters in white aprons and +with discs on their breasts were bustling among the passengers and +snatching up their boxes. Klimov put on his great-coat, mechanically +followed the other passengers out of the carriage, and it seemed +to him that not he, but some one else was moving, and he felt that +his fever, his thirst, and the menacing images which had not let +him sleep all night, came out of the carriage with him. Mechanically +he took his luggage and engaged a sledge-driver. The man asked him +for a rouble and a quarter to drive to Povarsky Street, but he did +not haggle, and without protest got submissively into the sledge. +He still understood the difference of numbers, but money had ceased +to have any value to him. + +At home Klimov was met by his aunt and his sister Katya, a girl of +eighteen. When Katya greeted him she had a pencil and exercise book +in her hand, and he remembered that she was preparing for an +examination as a teacher. Gasping with fever, he walked aimlessly +through all the rooms without answering their questions or greetings, +and when he reached his bed he sank down on the pillow. The Finn, +the red cap, the lady with the white teeth, the smell of roast meat, +the flickering blurs, filled his consciousness, and by now he did +not know where he was and did not hear the agitated voices. + +When he recovered consciousness he found himself in bed, undressed, +saw a bottle of water and Pavel, but it was no cooler, nor softer, +nor more comfortable for that. His arms and legs, as before, refused +to lie comfortably; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and +he heard the wheezing of the Finn's pipe. . . . A stalwart, +black-bearded doctor was busy doing something beside the bed, +brushing against Pavel with his broad back. + +"It's all right, it's all right, young man," he muttered. "Excellent, +excellent . . . goo-od, goo-od . . . !" + +The doctor called Klimov "young man," said "goo-od" instead of +"good" and "so-o" instead of "so." + +"So-o . . . so-o . . . so-o," he murmured. "Goo-od, goo-od . . . ! +Excellent, young man. You mustn't lose heart!" + +The doctor's rapid, careless talk, his well-fed countenance, and +condescending "young man," irritated Klimov. + +"Why do you call me 'young man'?" he moaned. "What familiarity! +Damn it all!" + +And he was frightened by his own voice. The voice was so dried up, +so weak and peevish, that he would not have known it. + +"Excellent, excellent!" muttered the doctor, not in the least +offended. . . . "You mustn't get angry, so-o, so-o, so-s. . . ." + +And the time flew by at home with the same startling swiftness as +in the railway carriage. The daylight was continually being replaced +by the dusk of evening. The doctor seemed never to leave his bedside, +and he heard at every moment his "so-o, so-o, so-o." A continual +succession of people was incessantly crossing the bedroom. Among +them were: Pavel, the Finn, Captain Yaroshevitch, Lance-Corporal +Maximenko, the red cap, the lady with the white teeth, the doctor. +They were all talking and waving their arms, smoking and eating. +Once by daylight Klimov saw the chaplain of the regiment, Father +Alexandr, who was standing before the bed, wearing a stole and with +a prayer-book in his hand. He was muttering something with a grave +face such as Klimov had never seen in him before. The lieutenant +remembered that Father Alexandr used in a friendly way to call all +the Catholic officers "Poles," and wanting to amuse him, he cried: + +"Father, Yaroshevitch the Pole has climbed up a pole!" + +But Father Alexandr, a light-hearted man who loved a joke, did not +smile, but became graver than ever, and made the sign of the cross +over Klimov. At night-time by turn two shadows came noiselessly in +and out; they were his aunt and sister. His sister's shadow knelt +down and prayed; she bowed down to the ikon, and her grey shadow +on the wall bowed down too, so that two shadows were praying. The +whole time there was a smell of roast meat and the Finn's pipe, but +once Klimov smelt the strong smell of incense. He felt so sick he +could not lie still, and began shouting: + +"The incense! Take away the incense!" + +There was no answer. He could only hear the subdued singing of the +priest somewhere and some one running upstairs. + +When Klimov came to himself there was not a soul in his bedroom. +The morning sun was streaming in at the window through the lower +blind, and a quivering sunbeam, bright and keen as the sword's edge, +was flashing on the glass bottle. He heard the rattle of wheels-- +so there was no snow now in the street. The lieutenant looked at +the ray, at the familiar furniture, at the door, and the first thing +he did was to laugh. His chest and stomach heaved with delicious, +happy, tickling laughter. His whole body from head to foot was +overcome by a sensation of infinite happiness and joy in life, such +as the first man must have felt when he was created and first saw +the world. Klimov felt a passionate desire for movement, people, +talk. His body lay a motionless block; only his hands stirred, but +that he hardly noticed, and his whole attention was concentrated +on trifles. He rejoiced in his breathing, in his laughter, rejoiced +in the existence of the water-bottle, the ceiling, the sunshine, +the tape on the curtains. God's world, even in the narrow space of +his bedroom, seemed beautiful, varied, grand. When the doctor made +his appearance, the lieutenant was thinking what a delicious thing +medicine was, how charming and pleasant the doctor was, and how +nice and interesting people were in general. + +"So-o, so, so. . . Excellent, excellent! . . . Now we are well +again. . . . Goo-od, goo-od!" the doctor pattered. + +The lieutenant listened and laughed joyously; he remembered the +Finn, the lady with the white teeth, the train, and he longed to +smoke, to eat. + +"Doctor," he said, "tell them to give me a crust of rye bread and +salt, and . . . and sardines." + +The doctor refused; Pavel did not obey the order, and did not go +for the bread. The lieutenant could not bear this and began crying +like a naughty child. + +"Baby!" laughed the doctor. "Mammy, bye-bye!" + +Klimov laughed, too, and when the doctor went away he fell into a +sound sleep. He woke up with the same joyfulness and sensation of +happiness. His aunt was sitting near the bed. + +"Well, aunt," he said joyfully. "What has been the matter?" + +"Spotted typhus." + +"Really. But now I am well, quite well! Where is Katya?" + +"She is not at home. I suppose she has gone somewhere from her +examination." + +The old lady said this and looked at her stocking; her lips began +quivering, she turned away, and suddenly broke into sobs. Forgetting +the doctor's prohibition in her despair, she said: + +"Ah, Katya, Katya! Our angel is gone! Is gone!" + +She dropped her stocking and bent down to it, and as she did so her +cap fell off her head. Looking at her grey head and understanding +nothing, Klimov was frightened for Katya, and asked: + +"Where is she, aunt?" + +The old woman, who had forgotten Klimov and was thinking only of +her sorrow, said: + +"She caught typhus from you, and is dead. She was buried the day +before yesterday." + +This terrible, unexpected news was fully grasped by Klimov's +consciousness; but terrible and startling as it was, it could not +overcome the animal joy that filled the convalescent. He cried and +laughed, and soon began scolding because they would not let him +eat. + +Only a week later when, leaning on Pavel, he went in his dressing-gown +to the window, looked at the overcast spring sky and listened to +the unpleasant clang of the old iron rails which were being carted +by, his heart ached, he burst into tears, and leaned his forehead +against the window-frame. + +"How miserable I am!" he muttered. "My God, how miserable!" + +And joy gave way to the boredom of everyday life and the feeling +of his irrevocable loss. + + +A MISFORTUNE + +SOFYA PETROVNA, the wife of Lubyantsev the notary, a handsome young +woman of five-and-twenty, was walking slowly along a track that had +been cleared in the wood, with Ilyin, a lawyer who was spending the +summer in the neighbourhood. It was five o'clock in the evening. +Feathery-white masses of cloud stood overhead; patches of bright +blue sky peeped out between them. The clouds stood motionless, as +though they had caught in the tops of the tall old pine-trees. It +was still and sultry. + +Farther on, the track was crossed by a low railway embankment on +which a sentinel with a gun was for some reason pacing up and down. +Just beyond the embankment there was a large white church with six +domes and a rusty roof. + +"I did not expect to meet you here," said Sofya Petrovna, looking +at the ground and prodding at the last year's leaves with the tip +of her parasol, "and now I am glad we have met. I want to speak to +you seriously and once for all. I beg you, Ivan Mihalovitch, if you +really love and respect me, please make an end of this pursuit of +me! You follow me about like a shadow, you are continually looking +at me not in a nice way, making love to me, writing me strange +letters, and . . . and I don't know where it's all going to end! +Why, what can come of it?" + +Ilyin said nothing. Sofya Petrovna walked on a few steps and +continued: + +"And this complete transformation in you all came about in the +course of two or three weeks, after five years' friendship. I don't +know you, Ivan Mihalovitch!" + +Sofya Petrovna stole a glance at her companion. Screwing up his +eyes, he was looking intently at the fluffy clouds. His face looked +angry, ill-humoured, and preoccupied, like that of a man in pain +forced to listen to nonsense. + +"I wonder you don't see it yourself," Madame Lubyantsev went on, +shrugging her shoulders. "You ought to realize that it's not a very +nice part you are playing. I am married; I love and respect my +husband. . . . I have a daughter . . . . Can you think all that +means nothing? Besides, as an old friend you know my attitude to +family life and my views as to the sanctity of marriage." + +Ilyin cleared his throat angrily and heaved a sigh. + +"Sanctity of marriage . . ." he muttered. "Oh, Lord!" + +"Yes, yes. . . . I love my husband, I respect him; and in any case +I value the peace of my home. I would rather let myself be killed +than be a cause of unhappiness to Andrey and his daughter. . . . +And I beg you, Ivan Mihalovitch, for God's sake, leave me in peace! +Let us be as good, true friends as we used to be, and give up these +sighs and groans, which really don't suit you. It's settled and +over! Not a word more about it. Let us talk of something else." + +Sofya Petrovna again stole a glance at Ilyin's face. Ilyin was +looking up; he was pale, and was angrily biting his quivering lips. +She could not understand why he was angry and why he was indignant, +but his pallor touched her. + +"Don't be angry; let us be friends," she said affectionately. +"Agreed? Here's my hand." + +Ilyin took her plump little hand in both of his, squeezed it, and +slowly raised it to his lips. + +"I am not a schoolboy," he muttered. "I am not in the least tempted +by friendship with the woman I love." + +"Enough, enough! It's settled and done with. We have reached the +seat; let us sit down." + +Sofya Petrovna's soul was filled with a sweet sense of relief: the +most difficult and delicate thing had been said, the painful question +was settled and done with. Now she could breathe freely and look +Ilyin straight in the face. She looked at him, and the egoistic +feeling of the superiority of the woman over the man who loves her, +agreeably flattered her. It pleased her to see this huge, strong +man, with his manly, angry face and his big black beard--clever, +cultivated, and, people said, talented--sit down obediently beside +her and bow his head dejectedly. For two or three minutes they sat +without speaking. + +"Nothing is settled or done with," began Ilyin. "You repeat copy-book +maxims to me. 'I love and respect my husband . . . the sanctity of +marriage. . . .' I know all that without your help, and I could +tell you more, too. I tell you truthfully and honestly that I +consider the way I am behaving as criminal and immoral. What more +can one say than that? But what's the good of saying what everybody +knows? Instead of feeding nightingales with paltry words, you had +much better tell me what I am to do." + +"I've told you already--go away." + +"As you know perfectly well, I have gone away five times, and every +time I turned back on the way. I can show you my through tickets +--I've kept them all. I have not will enough to run away from you! +I am struggling. I am struggling horribly; but what the devil am I +good for if I have no backbone, if I am weak, cowardly! I can't +struggle with Nature! Do you understand? I cannot! I run away from +here, and she holds on to me and pulls me back. Contemptible, +loathsome weakness!" + +Ilyin flushed crimson, got up, and walked up and down by the seat. + +"I feel as cross as a dog," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I +hate and despise myself! My God! like some depraved schoolboy, I +am making love to another man's wife, writing idiotic letters, +degrading myself . . . ugh!" + +Ilyin clutched at his head, grunted, and sat down. "And then your +insincerity!" he went on bitterly. "If you do dislike my disgusting +behaviour, why have you come here? What drew you here? In my letters +I only ask you for a direct, definite answer--yes or no; but +instead of a direct answer, you contrive every day these 'chance' +meetings with me and regale me with copy-book maxims!" + +Madame Lubyantsev was frightened and flushed. She suddenly felt the +awkwardness which a decent woman feels when she is accidentally +discovered undressed. + +"You seem to suspect I am playing with you," she muttered. "I have +always given you a direct answer, and . . . only today I've begged +you . . ." + +"Ough! as though one begged in such cases! If you were to say +straight out 'Get away,' I should have been gone long ago; but +you've never said that. You've never once given me a direct answer. +Strange indecision! Yes, indeed; either you are playing with me, +or else . . ." + +Ilyin leaned his head on his fists without finishing. Sofya Petrovna +began going over in her own mind the way she had behaved from +beginning to end. She remembered that not only in her actions, but +even in her secret thoughts, she had always been opposed to Ilyin's +love-making; but yet she felt there was a grain of truth in the +lawyer's words. But not knowing exactly what the truth was, she +could not find answers to make to Ilyin's complaint, however hard +she thought. It was awkward to be silent, and, shrugging her +shoulders, she said: + +So I am to blame, it appears." + +"I don't blame you for your insincerity," sighed Ilyin. "I did not +mean that when I spoke of it. . . . Your insincerity is natural and +in the order of things. If people agreed together and suddenly +became sincere, everything would go to the devil." + +Sofya Petrovna was in no mood for philosophical reflections, but +she was glad of a chance to change the conversation, and asked: + +"But why?" + +"Because only savage women and animals are sincere. Once civilization +has introduced a demand for such comforts as, for instance, feminine +virtue, sincerity is out of place. . . ." + +Ilyin jabbed his stick angrily into the sand. Madame Lubyantsev +listened to him and liked his conversation, though a great deal of +it she did not understand. What gratified her most was that she, +an ordinary woman, was talked to by a talented man on "intellectual" +subjects; it afforded her great pleasure, too, to watch the working +of his mobile, young face, which was still pale and angry. She +failed to understand a great deal that he said, but what was clear +to her in his words was the attractive boldness with which the +modern man without hesitation or doubt decides great questions and +draws conclusive deductions. + +She suddenly realized that she was admiring him, and was alarmed. + +"Forgive me, but I don't understand," she said hurriedly. "What +makes you talk of insincerity? I repeat my request again: be my +good, true friend; let me alone! I beg you most earnestly!" + +"Very good; I'll try again," sighed Ilyin. "Glad to do my best. . . . +Only I doubt whether anything will come of my efforts. Either +I shall put a bullet through my brains or take to drink in an idiotic +way. I shall come to a bad end! There's a limit to everything-- +to struggles with Nature, too. Tell me, how can one struggle against +madness? If you drink wine, how are you to struggle against +intoxication? What am I to do if your image has grown into my soul, +and day and night stands persistently before my eyes, like that +pine there at this moment? Come, tell me, what hard and difficult +thing can I do to get free from this abominable, miserable condition, +in which all my thoughts, desires, and dreams are no longer my own, +but belong to some demon who has taken possession of me? I love +you, love you so much that I am completely thrown out of gear; I've +given up my work and all who are dear to me; I've forgotten my God! +I've never been in love like this in my life." + +Sofya Petrovna, who had not expected such a turn to their conversation, +drew away from Ilyin and looked into his face in dismay. Tears came +into his eyes, his lips were quivering, and there was an imploring, +hungry expression in his face. + +"I love you!" he muttered, bringing his eyes near her big, frightened +eyes. "You are so beautiful! I am in agony now, but I swear I would +sit here all my life, suffering and looking in your eyes. But . . . +be silent, I implore you!" + +Sofya Petrovna, feeling utterly disconcerted, tried to think as +quickly as possible of something to say to stop him. "I'll go away," +she decided, but before she had time to make a movement to get up, +Ilyin was on his knees before her. . . . He was clasping her knees, +gazing into her face and speaking passionately, hotly, eloquently. +In her terror and confusion she did not hear his words; for some +reason now, at this dangerous moment, while her knees were being +agreeably squeezed and felt as though they were in a warm bath, she +was trying, with a sort of angry spite, to interpret her own +sensations. She was angry that instead of brimming over with +protesting virtue, she was entirely overwhelmed with weakness, +apathy, and emptiness, like a drunken man utterly reckless; only +at the bottom of her soul a remote bit of herself was malignantly +taunting her: "Why don't you go? Is this as it should be? Yes?" + +Seeking for some explanation, she could not understand how it was +she did not pull away the hand to which Ilyin was clinging like a +leech, and why, like Ilyin, she hastily glanced to right and to +left to see whether any one was looking. The clouds and the pines +stood motionless, looking at them severely, like old ushers seeing +mischief, but bribed not to tell the school authorities. The sentry +stood like a post on the embankment and seemed to be looking at the +seat. + +"Let him look," thought Sofya Petrovna. + +"But . . . but listen," she said at last, with despair in her voice. +"What can come of this? What will be the end of this?" + +"I don't know, I don't know," he whispered, waving off the disagreeable +questions. + +They heard the hoarse, discordant whistle of the train. This cold, +irrelevant sound from the everyday world of prose made Sofya Petrovna +rouse herself. + +"I can't stay . . . it's time I was at home," she said, getting up +quickly. "The train is coming in. . . Andrey is coming by it! He +will want his dinner." + +Sofya Petrovna turned towards the embankment with a burning face. +The engine slowly crawled by, then came the carriages. It was not +the local train, as she had supposed, but a goods train. The trucks +filed by against the background of the white church in a long string +like the days of a man's life, and it seemed as though it would +never end. + +But at last the train passed, and the last carriage with the guard +and a light in it had disappeared behind the trees. Sofya Petrovna +turned round sharply, and without looking at Ilyin, walked rapidly +back along the track. She had regained her self-possession. Crimson +with shame, humiliated not by Ilyin--no, but by her own cowardice, +by the shamelessness with which she, a chaste and high-principled +woman, had allowed a man, not her husband, to hug her knees--she +had only one thought now: to get home as quickly as possible to her +villa, to her family. The lawyer could hardly keep pace with her. +Turning from the clearing into a narrow path, she turned round and +glanced at him so quickly that she saw nothing but the sand on his +knees, and waved to him to drop behind. + +Reaching home, Sofya Petrovna stood in the middle of her room for +five minutes without moving, and looked first at the window and +then at her writing-table. + +"You low creature!" she said, upbraiding herself. "You low creature!" + +To spite herself, she recalled in precise detail, keeping nothing +back--she recalled that though all this time she had been opposed +to Ilyin's lovemaking, something had impelled her to seek an interview +with him; and what was more, when he was at her feet she had enjoyed +it enormously. She recalled it all without sparing herself, and +now, breathless with shame, she would have liked to slap herself +in the face. + +"Poor Andrey!" she said to herself, trying as she thought of her +husband to put into her face as tender an expression as she could. +"Varya, my poor little girl, doesn't know what a mother she has! +Forgive me, my dear ones! I love you so much . . . so much!" + +And anxious to prove to herself that she was still a good wife and +mother, and that corruption had not yet touched that "sanctity of +marriage" of which she had spoken to Ilyin, Sofya Petrovna ran to +the kitchen and abused the cook for not having yet laid the table +for Andrey Ilyitch. She tried to picture her husband's hungry and +exhausted appearance, commiserated him aloud, and laid the table +for him with her own hands, which she had never done before. Then +she found her daughter Varya, picked her up in her arms and hugged +her warmly; the child seemed to her cold and heavy, but she was +unwilling to acknowledge this to herself, and she began explaining +to the child how good, kind, and honourable her papa was. + +But when Andrey Ilyitch arrived soon afterwards she hardly greeted +him. The rush of false feeling had already passed off without proving +anything to her, only irritating and exasperating her by its falsity. +She was sitting by the window, feeling miserable and cross. It is +only by being in trouble that people can understand how far from +easy it is to be the master of one's feelings and thoughts. Sofya +Petrovna said afterwards that there was a tangle within her which +it was as difficult to unravel as to count a flock of sparrows +rapidly flying by. From the fact that she was not overjoyed to see +her husband, that she did not like his manner at dinner, she concluded +all of a sudden that she was beginning to hate her husband. + +Andrey Ilyitch, languid with hunger and exhaustion, fell upon the +sausage while waiting for the soup to be brought in, and ate it +greedily, munching noisily and moving his temples. + +"My goodness!" thought Sofya Petrovna. "I love and respect him, but +. . . why does he munch so repulsively?" + +The disorder in her thoughts was no less than the disorder in her +feelings. Like all persons inexperienced in combating unpleasant +ideas, Madame Lubyantsev did her utmost not to think of her trouble, +and the harder she tried the more vividly Ilyin, the sand on his +knees, the fluffy clouds, the train, stood out in her imagination. + +"And why did I go there this afternoon like a fool?" she thought, +tormenting herself. "And am I really so weak that I cannot depend +upon myself?" + +Fear magnifies danger. By the time Andrey Ilyitch was finishing the +last course, she had firmly made up her mind to tell her husband +everything and to flee from danger! + +"I've something serious to say to you, Andrey," she began after +dinner while her husband was taking off his coat and boots to lie +down for a nap. + +"Well?" + +"Let us leave this place!" + +"H'm! . . . Where shall we go? It's too soon to go back to town." + +"No; for a tour or something of that sort. + +"For a tour . . ." repeated the notary, stretching. "I dream of +that myself, but where are we to get the money, and to whom am I +to leave the office?" + +And thinking a little he added: + +"Of course, you must be bored. Go by yourself if you like." + +Sofya Petrovna agreed, but at once reflected that Ilyin would be +delighted with the opportunity, and would go with her in the same +train, in the same compartment. . . . She thought and looked at her +husband, now satisfied but still languid. For some reason her eyes +rested on his feet--miniature, almost feminine feet, clad in +striped socks; there was a thread standing out at the tip of each +sock. + +Behind the blind a bumble-bee was beating itself against the +window-pane and buzzing. Sofya Petrovna looked at the threads on +the socks, listened to the bee, and pictured how she would set off +. . . . _vis-à-vis_ Ilyin would sit, day and night, never taking his +eyes off her, wrathful at his own weakness and pale with spiritual +agony. He would call himself an immoral schoolboy, would abuse her, +tear his hair, but when darkness came on and the passengers were +asleep or got out at a station, he would seize the opportunity to +kneel before her and embrace her knees as he had at the seat in the +wood. . . . + +She caught herself indulging in this day-dream. + +"Listen. I won't go alone," she said. "You must come with me." + +"Nonsense, Sofotchka!" sighed Lubyantsev. "One must be sensible and +not want the impossible." + +"You will come when you know all about it," thought Sofya Petrovna. + +Making up her mind to go at all costs, she felt that she was out +of danger. Little by little her ideas grew clearer; her spirits +rose and she allowed herself to think about it all, feeling that +however much she thought, however much she dreamed, she would go +away. While her husband was asleep, the evening gradually came on. +She sat in the drawing-room and played the piano. The greater +liveliness out of doors, the sound of music, but above all the +thought that she was a sensible person, that she had surmounted her +difficulties, completely restored her spirits. Other women, her +appeased conscience told her, would probably have been carried off +their feet in her position, and would have lost their balance, while +she had almost died of shame, had been miserable, and was now running +out of the danger which perhaps did not exist! She was so touched +by her own virtue and determination that she even looked at herself +two or three times in the looking-glass. + +When it got dark, visitors arrived. The men sat down in the dining-room +to play cards; the ladies remained in the drawing-room and the +verandah. The last to arrive was Ilyin. He was gloomy, morose, and +looked ill. He sat down in the corner of the sofa and did not move +the whole evening. Usually good-humoured and talkative, this time +he remained silent, frowned, and rubbed his eyebrows. When he had +to answer some question, he gave a forced smile with his upper lip +only, and answered jerkily and irritably. Four or five times he +made some jest, but his jests sounded harsh and cutting. It seemed +to Sofya Petrovna that he was on the verge of hysterics. Only now, +sitting at the piano, she recognized fully for the first time that +this unhappy man was in deadly earnest, that his soul was sick, and +that he could find no rest. For her sake he was wasting the best +days of his youth and his career, spending the last of his money +on a summer villa, abandoning his mother and sisters, and, worst +of all, wearing himself out in an agonizing struggle with himself. +From mere common humanity he ought to be treated seriously. + +She recognized all this clearly till it made her heart ache, and +if at that moment she had gone up to him and said to him, "No," +there would have been a force in her voice hard to disobey. But she +did not go up to him and did not speak--indeed, never thought of +doing so. The pettiness and egoism of youth had never been more +patent in her than that evening. She realized that Ilyin was unhappy, +and that he was sitting on the sofa as though he were on hot coals; +she felt sorry for him, but at the same time the presence of a man +who loved her to distraction, filled her soul with triumph and a +sense of her own power. She felt her youth, her beauty, and her +unassailable virtue, and, since she had decided to go away, gave +herself full licence for that evening. She flirted, laughed +incessantly, sang with peculiar feeling and gusto. Everything +delighted and amused her. She was amused at the memory of what had +happened at the seat in the wood, of the sentinel who had looked +on. She was amused by her guests, by Ilyin's cutting jests, by the +pin in his cravat, which she had never noticed before. There was a +red snake with diamond eyes on the pin; this snake struck her as +so amusing that she could have kissed it on the spot. + +Sofya Petrovna sang nervously, with defiant recklessness as though +half intoxicated, and she chose sad, mournful songs which dealt +with wasted hopes, the past, old age, as though in mockery of +another's grief. "'And old age comes nearer and nearer' . . ." she +sang. And what was old age to her? + +"It seems as though there is something going wrong with me," she +thought from time to time through her laughter and singing. + +The party broke up at twelve o'clock. Ilyin was the last to leave. +Sofya Petrovna was still reckless enough to accompany him to the +bottom step of the verandah. She wanted to tell him that she was +going away with her husband, and to watch the effect this news would +produce on him. + +The moon was hidden behind the clouds, but it was light enough for +Sofya Petrovna to see how the wind played with the skirts of his +overcoat and with the awning of the verandah. She could see, too, +how white Ilyin was, and how he twisted his upper lip in the effort +to smile. + +"Sonia, Sonitchka . . . my darling woman!" he muttered, preventing +her from speaking. "My dear! my sweet!" + +In a rush of tenderness, with tears in his voice, he showered +caressing words upon her, that grew tenderer and tenderer, and even +called her "thou," as though she were his wife or mistress. Quite +unexpectedly he put one arm round her waist and with the other hand +took hold of her elbow. + +"My precious! my delight!" he whispered, kissing the nape of her +neck; "be sincere; come to me at once!" + +She slipped out of his arms and raised her head to give vent to her +indignation and anger, but the indignation did not come off, and +all her vaunted virtue and chastity was only sufficient to enable +her to utter the phrase used by all ordinary women on such occasions: + +"You must be mad." + +"Come, let us go," Ilyin continued. "I felt just now, as well as +at the seat in the wood, that you are as helpless as I am, Sonia +. . . . You are in the same plight! You love me and are fruitlessly +trying to appease your conscience. . . ." + +Seeing that she was moving away, he caught her by her lace cuff and +said rapidly: + +"If not today, then tomorrow you will have to give in! Why, then, +this waste of time? My precious, darling Sonia, the sentence is +passed; why put off the execution? Why deceive yourself?" + +Sofya Petrovna tore herself from him and darted in at the door. +Returning to the drawing-room, she mechanically shut the piano, +looked for a long time at the music-stand, and sat down. She could +not stand up nor think. All that was left of her excitement and +recklessness was a fearful weakness, apathy, and dreariness. Her +conscience whispered to her that she had behaved badly, foolishly, +that evening, like some madcap girl--that she had just been +embraced on the verandah, and still had an uneasy feeling in her +waist and her elbow. There was not a soul in the drawing-room; there +was only one candle burning. Madame Lubyantsev sat on the round +stool before the piano, motionless, as though expecting something. +And as though taking advantage of the darkness and her extreme +lassitude, an oppressive, overpowering desire began to assail her. +Like a boa-constrictor it gripped her limbs and her soul, and grew +stronger every second, and no longer menaced her as it had done, +but stood clear before her in all its nakedness. + +She sat for half an hour without stirring, not restraining herself +from thinking of Ilyin, then she got up languidly and dragged herself +to her bedroom. Andrey Ilyitch was already in bed. She sat down by +the open window and gave herself up to desire. There was no "tangle" +now in her head; all her thoughts and feelings were bent with one +accord upon a single aim. She tried to struggle against it, but +instantly gave it up. . . . She understood now how strong and +relentless was the foe. Strength and fortitude were needed to combat +him, and her birth, her education, and her life had given her nothing +to fall back upon. + +"Immoral wretch! Low creature!" she nagged at herself for her +weakness. "So that's what you're like!" + +Her outraged sense of propriety was moved to such indignation by +this weakness that she lavished upon herself every term of abuse +she knew, and told herself many offensive and humiliating truths. +So, for instance, she told herself that she never had been moral, +that she had not come to grief before simply because she had had +no opportunity, that her inward conflict during that day had all +been a farce. . . . + +"And even if I have struggled," she thought, "what sort of struggle +was it? Even the woman who sells herself struggles before she brings +herself to it, and yet she sells herself. A fine struggle! Like +milk, I've turned in a day! In one day!" + +She convicted herself of being tempted, not by feeling, not by Ilyin +personally, but by sensations which awaited her . . . an idle lady, +having her fling in the summer holidays, like so many! + +"'Like an unfledged bird when the mother has been slain,'" sang +a husky tenor outside the window. + +"If I am to go, it's time," thought Sofya Petrovna. Her heart +suddenly began beating violently. + +"Andrey!" she almost shrieked. "Listen! we . . . we are going? Yes?" + +"Yes, I've told you already: you go alone." + +"But listen," she began. "If you don't go with me, you are in danger +of losing me. I believe I am . . . in love already." + +"With whom?" asked Andrey Ilyitch. + +"It can't make any difference to you who it is!" cried Sofya Petrovna. + +Andrey Ilyitch sat up with his feet out of bed and looked wonderingly +at his wife's dark figure. + +"It's a fancy!" he yawned. + +He did not believe her, but yet he was frightened. After thinking +a little and asking his wife several unimportant questions, he +delivered himself of his opinions on the family, on infidelity . . . +spoke listlessly for about ten minutes and got into bed again. +His moralizing produced no effect. There are a great many opinions +in the world, and a good half of them are held by people who have +never been in trouble! + +In spite of the late hour, summer visitors were still walking +outside. Sofya Petrovna put on a light cape, stood a little, thought +a little. . . . She still had resolution enough to say to her +sleeping husband: + +"Are you asleep? I am going for a walk. . . . Will you come with +me?" + +That was her last hope. Receiving no answer, she went out. . . . +It was fresh and windy. She was conscious neither of the wind nor +the darkness, but went on and on. . . . An overmastering force drove +her on, and it seemed as though, if she had stopped, it would have +pushed her in the back. + +"Immoral creature!" she muttered mechanically. "Low wretch!" + +She was breathless, hot with shame, did not feel her legs under +her, but what drove her on was stronger than shame, reason, or fear. + + +A TRIFLE FROM LIFE + +A WELL-FED, red-cheeked young man called Nikolay Ilyitch Belyaev, +of thirty-two, who was an owner of house property in Petersburg, +and a devotee of the race-course, went one evening to see Olga +Ivanovna Irnin, with whom he was living, or, to use his own expression, +was dragging out a long, wearisome romance. And, indeed, the first +interesting and enthusiastic pages of this romance had long been +perused; now the pages dragged on, and still dragged on, without +presenting anything new or of interest. + +Not finding Olga Ivanovna at home, my hero lay down on the lounge +chair and proceeded to wait for her in the drawing-room. + +"Good-evening, Nikolay Ilyitch!" he heard a child's voice. "Mother +will be here directly. She has gone with Sonia to the dressmaker's." + +Olga Ivanovna's son, Alyosha--a boy of eight who looked graceful +and very well cared for, who was dressed like a picture, in a black +velvet jacket and long black stockings--was lying on the sofa in +the same room. He was lying on a satin cushion and, evidently +imitating an acrobat he had lately seen at the circus, stuck up in +the air first one leg and then the other. When his elegant legs +were exhausted, he brought his arms into play or jumped up impulsively +and went on all fours, trying to stand with his legs in the air. +All this he was doing with the utmost gravity, gasping and groaning +painfully as though he regretted that God had given him such a +restless body. + +"Ah, good-evening, my boy," said Belyaev. "It's you! I did not +notice you. Is your mother well?" + +Alyosha, taking hold of the tip of his left toe with his right hand +and falling into the most unnatural attitude, turned over, jumped +up, and peeped at Belyaev from behind the big fluffy lampshade. + +"What shall I say?" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "In reality +mother's never well. You see, she is a woman, and women, Nikolay +Ilyitch, have always something the matter with them." + +Belyaev, having nothing better to do, began watching Alyosha's face. +He had never before during the whole of his intimacy with Olga +Ivanovna paid any attention to the boy, and had completely ignored +his existence; the boy had been before his eyes, but he had not +cared to think why he was there and what part he was playing. + +In the twilight of the evening, Alyosha's face, with his white +forehead and black, unblinking eyes, unexpectedly reminded Belyaev +of Olga Ivanovna as she had been during the first pages of their +romance. And he felt disposed to be friendly to the boy. + +"Come here, insect," he said; "let me have a closer look at you." + +The boy jumped off the sofa and skipped up to Belyaev. + +"Well," began Nikolay Ilyitch, putting a hand on the boy's thin +shoulder. "How are you getting on?" + +"How shall I say! We used to get on a great deal better." + +"Why?" + +"It's very simple. Sonia and I used only to learn music and reading, +and now they give us French poetry to learn. Have you been shaved +lately?" + +"Yes." + +"Yes, I see you have. Your beard is shorter. Let me touch it. . . . +Does that hurt?" + +"No." + +"Why is it that if you pull one hair it hurts, but if you pull a +lot at once it doesn't hurt a bit? Ha, ha! And, you know, it's a +pity you don't have whiskers. Here ought to be shaved . . . but +here at the sides the hair ought to be left. . . ." + +The boy nestled up to Belyaev and began playing with his watch-chain. + +"When I go to the high-school," he said, "mother is going to buy +me a watch. I shall ask her to buy me a watch-chain like this. . . . +Wh-at a lo-ket! Father's got a locket like that, only yours has +little bars on it and his has letters. . . . There's mother's +portrait in the middle of his. Father has a different sort of chain +now, not made with rings, but like ribbon. . . ." + +"How do you know? Do you see your father?" + +"I? M'm . . . no . . . I . . ." + +Alyosha blushed, and in great confusion, feeling caught in a lie, +began zealously scratching the locket with his nail. . . . Belyaev +looked steadily into his face and asked: + +"Do you see your father?" + +"N-no!" + +"Come, speak frankly, on your honour. . . . I see from your face +you are telling a fib. Once you've let a thing slip out it's no +good wriggling about it. Tell me, do you see him? Come, as a friend." + +Alyosha hesitated. + +"You won't tell mother?" he said. + +"As though I should!" + +"On your honour?" + +"On my honour." + +"Do you swear?" + +"Ah, you provoking boy! What do you take me for?" + +Alyosha looked round him, then with wide-open eyes, whispered to +him: + +"Only, for goodness' sake, don't tell mother. . . . Don't tell any +one at all, for it is a secret. I hope to goodness mother won't +find out, or we should all catch it--Sonia, and I, and Pelagea +. . . . Well, listen. . . Sonia and I see father every Tuesday and +Friday. When Pelagea takes us for a walk before dinner we go to the +Apfel Restaurant, and there is father waiting for us. . . . He is +always sitting in a room apart, where you know there's a marble +table and an ash-tray in the shape of a goose without a back. . . ." + +"What do you do there?" + +"Nothing! First we say how-do-you-do, then we all sit round the +table, and father treats us with coffee and pies. You know Sonia +eats the meat-pies, but I can't endure meat-pies! I like the pies +made of cabbage and eggs. We eat such a lot that we have to try +hard to eat as much as we can at dinner, for fear mother should +notice." + +"What do you talk about?" + +"With father? About anything. He kisses us, he hugs us, tells us +all sorts of amusing jokes. Do you know, he says when we are grown +up he is going to take us to live with him. Sonia does not want to +go, but I agree. Of course, I should miss mother; but, then, I +should write her letters! It's a queer idea, but we could come and +visit her on holidays--couldn't we? Father says, too, that he +will buy me a horse. He's an awfully kind man! I can't understand +why mother does not ask him to come and live with us, and why she +forbids us to see him. You know he loves mother very much. He is +always asking us how she is and what she is doing. When she was ill +he clutched his head like this, and . . . and kept running about. +He always tells us to be obedient and respectful to her. Listen. +Is it true that we are unfortunate?" + +"H'm! . . . Why?" + +"That's what father says. 'You are unhappy children,' he says. It's +strange to hear him, really. 'You are unhappy,' he says, 'I am +unhappy, and mother's unhappy. You must pray to God,' he says; 'for +yourselves and for her.'" + +Alyosha let his eyes rest on a stuffed bird and sank into thought. + +"So . . ." growled Belyaev. "So that's how you are going on. You +arrange meetings at restaurants. And mother does not know?" + +"No-o. . . . How should she know? Pelagea would not tell her for +anything, you know. The day before yesterday he gave us some pears. +As sweet as jam! I ate two." + +"H'm! . . . Well, and I say . . Listen. Did father say anything +about me?" + +"About you? What shall I say?" + +Alyosha looked searchingly into Belyaev's face and shrugged his +shoulders. + +"He didn't say anything particular." + +"For instance, what did he say?" + +"You won't be offended?" + +"What next? Why, does he abuse me?" + +"He doesn't abuse you, but you know he is angry with you. He says +mother's unhappy owing to you . . . and that you have ruined mother. +You know he is so queer! I explain to him that you are kind, that +you never scold mother; but he only shakes his head." + +"So he says I have ruined her?" + +"Yes; you mustn't be offended, Nikolay Ilyitch." + +Belyaev got up, stood still a moment, and walked up and down the +drawing-room. + +"That's strange and . . . ridiculous!" he muttered, shrugging his +shoulders and smiling sarcastically. "He's entirely to blame, and +I have ruined her, eh? An innocent lamb, I must say. So he told you +I ruined your mother?" + +"Yes, but . . . you said you would not be offended, you know." + +"I am not offended, and . . . and it's not your business. Why, it's +. . . why, it's positively ridiculous! I have been thrust into it +like a chicken in the broth, and now it seems I'm to blame!" + +A ring was heard. The boy sprang up from his place and ran out. A +minute later a lady came into the room with a little girl; this was +Olga Ivanovna, Alyosha's mother. Alyosha followed them in, skipping +and jumping, humming aloud and waving his hands. Belyaev nodded, +and went on walking up and down. + +"Of course, whose fault is it if not mine?" he muttered with a +snort. "He is right! He is an injured husband." + +"What are you talking about?" asked Olga Ivanovna. + +"What about? . . . Why, just listen to the tales your lawful spouse +is spreading now! It appears that I am a scoundrel and a villain, +that I have ruined you and the children. All of you are unhappy, +and I am the only happy one! Wonderfully, wonderfully happy!" + +"I don't understand, Nikolay. What's the matter?" + +"Why, listen to this young gentleman!" said Belyaev, pointing to +Alyosha. + +Alyosha flushed crimson, then turned pale, and his whole face began +working with terror. + +"Nikolay Ilyitch," he said in a loud whisper. "Sh-sh!" + +Olga Ivanovna looked in surprise at Alyosha, then at Belyaev, then +at Alyosha again. + +"Just ask him," Belyaev went on. "Your Pelagea, like a regular fool, +takes them about to restaurants and arranges meetings with their +papa. But that's not the point: the point is that their dear papa +is a victim, while I'm a wretch who has broken up both your lives. . ." + +"Nikolay Ilyitch," moaned Alyosha. "Why, you promised on your word +of honour!" + +"Oh, get away!" said Belyaev, waving him off. "This is more important +than any word of honour. It's the hypocrisy revolts me, the lying! +. . ." + +"I don't understand it," said Olga Ivanovna, and tears glistened +in her eyes. "Tell me, Alyosha," she turned to her son. "Do you see +your father?" + +Alyosha did not hear her; he was looking with horror at Belyaev. + +"It's impossible," said his mother; "I will go and question Pelagea." + +Olga Ivanovna went out. + +"I say, you promised on your word of honour!" said Alyosha, trembling +all over. + +Belyaev dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and went on walking +up and down. He was absorbed in his grievance and was oblivious of +the boy's presence, as he always had been. He, a grownup, serious +person, had no thought to spare for boys. And Alyosha sat down in +the corner and told Sonia with horror how he had been deceived. He +was trembling, stammering, and crying. It was the first time in his +life that he had been brought into such coarse contact with lying; +till then he had not known that there are in the world, besides +sweet pears, pies, and expensive watches, a great many things for +which the language of children has no expression. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Party and Other Stories, +by Anton Chekhov + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PARTY *** + +***** This file should be named 13413-8.txt or 13413-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/1/13413/ + +Produced by James Rusk + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Party and Other Stories + +Author: Anton Chekhov + +Release Date: September 9, 2004 [EBook #13413] +Last Updated: May 26, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PARTY *** + + + + + + +Etext produced by James Rusk + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE TALES OF CHEKHOV + </h1> + <h4> + Volume 4 + </h4> + <h3> + THE PARTY AND OTHER STORIES + </h3> + <h2> + By Anton Tchekhov + </h2> + <h4> + Translated By Constance Garnett + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE PARTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> TERROR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> A WOMAN’S KINGDOM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> A PROBLEM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE KISS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> ‘ANNA ON THE NECK’ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE TEACHER OF LITERATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> NOT WANTED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> TYPHUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> A MISFORTUNE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> A TRIFLE FROM LIFE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PARTY + </h2> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>FTER the festive + dinner with its eight courses and its endless conversation, Olga + Mihalovna, whose husband’s name-day was being celebrated, went out into + the garden. The duty of smiling and talking incessantly, the clatter of + the crockery, the stupidity of the servants, the long intervals between + the courses, and the stays she had put on to conceal her condition from + the visitors, wearied her to exhaustion. She longed to get away from the + house, to sit in the shade and rest her heart with thoughts of the baby + which was to be born to her in another two months. She was used to these + thoughts coming to her as she turned to the left out of the big avenue + into the narrow path. Here in the thick shade of the plums and + cherry-trees the dry branches used to scratch her neck and shoulders; a + spider’s web would settle on her face, and there would rise up in her mind + the image of a little creature of undetermined sex and undefined features, + and it began to seem as though it were not the spider’s web that tickled + her face and neck caressingly, but that little creature. When, at the end + of the path, a thin wicker hurdle came into sight, and behind it podgy + beehives with tiled roofs; when in the motionless, stagnant air there came + a smell of hay and honey, and a soft buzzing of bees was audible, then the + little creature would take complete possession of Olga Mihalovna. She used + to sit down on a bench near the shanty woven of branches, and fall to + thinking. + </p> + <p> + This time, too, she went on as far as the seat, sat down, and began + thinking; but instead of the little creature there rose up in her + imagination the figures of the grown-up people whom she had just left. She + felt dreadfully uneasy that she, the hostess, had deserted her guests, and + she remembered how her husband, Pyotr Dmitritch, and her uncle, Nikolay + Nikolaitch, had argued at dinner about trial by jury, about the press, and + about the higher education of women. Her husband, as usual, argued in + order to show off his Conservative ideas before his visitors—and + still more in order to disagree with her uncle, whom he disliked. Her + uncle contradicted him and wrangled over every word he uttered, so as to + show the company that he, Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch, still retained his + youthful freshness of spirit and free-thinking in spite of his fifty-nine + years. And towards the end of dinner even Olga Mihalovna herself could not + resist taking part and unskilfully attempting to defend university + education for women—not that that education stood in need of her + defence, but simply because she wanted to annoy her husband, who to her + mind was unfair. The guests were wearied by this discussion, but they all + thought it necessary to take part in it, and talked a great deal, although + none of them took any interest in trial by jury or the higher education of + women. . . . + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna was sitting on the nearest side of the hurdle near the + shanty. The sun was hidden behind the clouds. The trees and the air were + overcast as before rain, but in spite of that it was hot and stifling. The + hay cut under the trees on the previous day was lying ungathered, looking + melancholy, with here and there a patch of colour from the faded flowers, + and from it came a heavy, sickly scent. It was still. The other side of + the hurdle there was a monotonous hum of bees. . . . + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she heard footsteps and voices; some one was coming along the + path towards the beehouse. + </p> + <p> + “How stifling it is!” said a feminine voice. “What do you think— is + it going to rain, or not?” + </p> + <p> + “It is going to rain, my charmer, but not before night,” a very familiar + male voice answered languidly. “There will be a good rain.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna calculated that if she made haste to hide in the shanty + they would pass by without seeing her, and she would not have to talk and + to force herself to smile. She picked up her skirts, bent down and crept + into the shanty. At once she felt upon her face, her neck, her arms, the + hot air as heavy as steam. If it had not been for the stuffiness and the + close smell of rye bread, fennel, and brushwood, which prevented her from + breathing freely, it would have been delightful to hide from her visitors + here under the thatched roof in the dusk, and to think about the little + creature. It was cosy and quiet. + </p> + <p> + “What a pretty spot!” said a feminine voice. “Let us sit here, Pyotr + Dmitritch.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna began peeping through a crack between two branches. She saw + her husband, Pyotr Dmitritch, and Lubotchka Sheller, a girl of seventeen + who had not long left boarding-school. Pyotr Dmitritch, with his hat on + the back of his head, languid and indolent from having drunk so much at + dinner, slouched by the hurdle and raked the hay into a heap with his + foot; Lubotchka, pink with the heat and pretty as ever, stood with her + hands behind her, watching the lazy movements of his big handsome person. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna knew that her husband was attractive to women, and did not + like to see him with them. There was nothing out of the way in Pyotr + Dmitritch’s lazily raking together the hay in order to sit down on it with + Lubotchka and chatter to her of trivialities; there was nothing out of the + way, either, in pretty Lubotchka’s looking at him with her soft eyes; but + yet Olga Mihalovna felt vexed with her husband and frightened and pleased + that she could listen to them. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, enchantress,” said Pyotr Dmitritch, sinking down on the hay and + stretching. “That’s right. Come, tell me something.” + </p> + <p> + “What next! If I begin telling you anything you will go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Me go to sleep? Allah forbid! Can I go to sleep while eyes like yours are + watching me?” + </p> + <p> + In her husband’s words, and in the fact that he was lolling with his hat + on the back of his head in the presence of a lady, there was nothing out + of the way either. He was spoilt by women, knew that they found him + attractive, and had adopted with them a special tone which every one said + suited him. With Lubotchka he behaved as with all women. But, all the + same, Olga Mihalovna was jealous. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, please,” said Lubotchka, after a brief silence—“is it true + that you are to be tried for something?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Yes, I am . . . numbered among the transgressors, my charmer.” + </p> + <p> + “But what for?” + </p> + <p> + “For nothing, but just . . . it’s chiefly a question of politics,” yawned + Pyotr Dmitritch—“the antagonisms of Left and Right. I, an + obscurantist and reactionary, ventured in an official paper to make use of + an expression offensive in the eyes of such immaculate Gladstones as + Vladimir Pavlovitch Vladimirov and our local justice of the peace—Kuzma + Grigoritch Vostryakov.” + </p> + <p> + Pytor Dmitritch yawned again and went on: + </p> + <p> + “And it is the way with us that you may express disapproval of the sun or + the moon, or anything you like, but God preserve you from touching the + Liberals! Heaven forbid! A Liberal is like the poisonous dry fungus which + covers you with a cloud of dust if you accidentally touch it with your + finger.” + </p> + <p> + “What happened to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing particular. The whole flare-up started from the merest trifle. A + teacher, a detestable person of clerical associations, hands to Vostryakov + a petition against a tavern-keeper, charging him with insulting language + and behaviour in a public place. Everything showed that both the teacher + and the tavern-keeper were drunk as cobblers, and that they behaved + equally badly. If there had been insulting behaviour, the insult had + anyway been mutual. Vostryakov ought to have fined them both for a breach + of the peace and have turned them out of the court—that is all. But + that’s not our way of doing things. With us what stands first is not the + person—not the fact itself, but the trade-mark and label. However + great a rascal a teacher may be, he is always in the right because he is a + teacher; a tavern-keeper is always in the wrong because he is a + tavern-keeper and a money-grubber. Vostryakov placed the tavern-keeper + under arrest. The man appealed to the Circuit Court; the Circuit Court + triumphantly upheld Vostryakov’s decision. Well, I stuck to my own + opinion. . . . Got a little hot. . . . That was all.” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch spoke calmly with careless irony. In reality the trial + that was hanging over him worried him extremely. Olga Mihalovna remembered + how on his return from the unfortunate session he had tried to conceal + from his household how troubled he was, and how dissatisfied with himself. + As an intelligent man he could not help feeling that he had gone too far + in expressing his disagreement; and how much lying had been needful to + conceal that feeling from himself and from others! How many unnecessary + conversations there had been! How much grumbling and insincere laughter at + what was not laughable! When he learned that he was to be brought up + before the Court, he seemed at once harassed and depressed; he began to + sleep badly, stood oftener than ever at the windows, drumming on the panes + with his fingers. And he was ashamed to let his wife see that he was + worried, and it vexed her. + </p> + <p> + “They say you have been in the province of Poltava?” Lubotchka questioned + him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Pyotr Dmitritch. “I came back the day before yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect it is very nice there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is very nice, very nice indeed; in fact, I arrived just in time + for the haymaking, I must tell you, and in the Ukraine the haymaking is + the most poetical moment of the year. Here we have a big house, a big + garden, a lot of servants, and a lot going on, so that you don’t see the + haymaking; here it all passes unnoticed. There, at the farm, I have a + meadow of forty-five acres as flat as my hand. You can see the men mowing + from any window you stand at. They are mowing in the meadow, they are + mowing in the garden. There are no visitors, no fuss nor hurry either, so + that you can’t help seeing, feeling, hearing nothing but the haymaking. + There is a smell of hay indoors and outdoors. There’s the sound of the + scythes from sunrise to sunset. Altogether Little Russia is a charming + country. Would you believe it, when I was drinking water from the rustic + wells and filthy vodka in some Jew’s tavern, when on quiet evenings the + strains of the Little Russian fiddle and the tambourines reached me, I was + tempted by a fascinating idea—to settle down on my place and live + there as long as I chose, far away from Circuit Courts, intellectual + conversations, philosophizing women, long dinners. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch was not lying. He was unhappy and really longed to rest. + And he had visited his Poltava property simply to avoid seeing his study, + his servants, his acquaintances, and everything that could remind him of + his wounded vanity and his mistakes. + </p> + <p> + Lubotchka suddenly jumped up and waved her hands about in horror. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! A bee, a bee!” she shrieked. “It will sting!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense; it won’t sting,” said Pyotr Dmitritch. “What a coward you are!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” cried Lubotchka; and looking round at the bees, she walked + rapidly back. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch walked away after her, looking at her with a softened and + melancholy face. He was probably thinking, as he looked at her, of his + farm, of solitude, and—who knows?—perhaps he was even thinking + how snug and cosy life would be at the farm if his wife had been this girl—young, + pure, fresh, not corrupted by higher education, not with child. . . . + </p> + <p> + When the sound of their footsteps had died away, Olga Mihalovna came out + of the shanty and turned towards the house. She wanted to cry. She was by + now acutely jealous. She could understand that her husband was worried, + dissatisfied with himself and ashamed, and when people are ashamed they + hold aloof, above all from those nearest to them, and are unreserved with + strangers; she could understand, also, that she had nothing to fear from + Lubotchka or from those women who were now drinking coffee indoors. But + everything in general was terrible, incomprehensible, and it already + seemed to Olga Mihalovna that Pyotr Dmitritch only half belonged to her. + </p> + <p> + “He has no right to do it!” she muttered, trying to formulate her jealousy + and her vexation with her husband. “He has no right at all. I will tell + him so plainly!” + </p> + <p> + She made up her mind to find her husband at once and tell him all about + it: it was disgusting, absolutely disgusting, that he was attractive to + other women and sought their admiration as though it were some heavenly + manna; it was unjust and dishonourable that he should give to others what + belonged by right to his wife, that he should hide his soul and his + conscience from his wife to reveal them to the first pretty face he came + across. What harm had his wife done him? How was she to blame? Long ago + she had been sickened by his lying: he was for ever posing, flirting, + saying what he did not think, and trying to seem different from what he + was and what he ought to be. Why this falsity? Was it seemly in a decent + man? If he lied he was demeaning himself and those to whom he lied, and + slighting what he lied about. Could he not understand that if he swaggered + and posed at the judicial table, or held forth at dinner on the + prerogatives of Government, that he, simply to provoke her uncle, was + showing thereby that he had not a ha’p’orth of respect for the Court, or + himself, or any of the people who were listening and looking at him? + </p> + <p> + Coming out into the big avenue, Olga Mihalovna assumed an expression of + face as though she had just gone away to look after some domestic matter. + In the verandah the gentlemen were drinking liqueur and eating + strawberries: one of them, the Examining Magistrate—a stout elderly + man, <i>blagueur</i> and wit—must have been telling some rather free + anecdote, for, seeing their hostess, he suddenly clapped his hands over + his fat lips, rolled his eyes, and sat down. Olga Mihalovna did not like + the local officials. She did not care for their clumsy, ceremonious wives, + their scandal-mongering, their frequent visits, their flattery of her + husband, whom they all hated. Now, when they were drinking, were replete + with food and showed no signs of going away, she felt their presence an + agonizing weariness; but not to appear impolite, she smiled cordially to + the Magistrate, and shook her finger at him. She walked across the + dining-room and drawing-room smiling, and looking as though she had gone + to give some order and make some arrangement. “God grant no one stops me,” + she thought, but she forced herself to stop in the drawing-room to listen + from politeness to a young man who was sitting at the piano playing: after + standing for a minute, she cried, “Bravo, bravo, M. Georges!” and clapping + her hands twice, she went on. + </p> + <p> + She found her husband in his study. He was sitting at the table, thinking + of something. His face looked stern, thoughtful, and guilty. This was not + the same Pyotr Dmitritch who had been arguing at dinner and whom his + guests knew, but a different man—wearied, feeling guilty and + dissatisfied with himself, whom nobody knew but his wife. He must have + come to the study to get cigarettes. Before him lay an open cigarette-case + full of cigarettes, and one of his hands was in the table drawer; he had + paused and sunk into thought as he was taking the cigarettes. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna felt sorry for him. It was as clear as day that this man + was harassed, could find no rest, and was perhaps struggling with himself. + Olga Mihalovna went up to the table in silence: wanting to show that she + had forgotten the argument at dinner and was not cross, she shut the + cigarette-case and put it in her husband’s coat pocket. + </p> + <p> + “What should I say to him?” she wondered; “I shall say that lying is like + a forest—the further one goes into it the more difficult it is to + get out of it. I will say to him, ‘You have been carried away by the false + part you are playing; you have insulted people who were attached to you + and have done you no harm. Go and apologize to them, laugh at yourself, + and you will feel better. And if you want peace and solitude, let us go + away together.’” + </p> + <p> + Meeting his wife’s gaze, Pyotr Dmitritch’s face immediately assumed the + expression it had worn at dinner and in the garden—indifferent and + slightly ironical. He yawned and got up. + </p> + <p> + “It’s past five,” he said, looking at his watch. “If our visitors are + merciful and leave us at eleven, even then we have another six hours of + it. It’s a cheerful prospect, there’s no denying!” + </p> + <p> + And whistling something, he walked slowly out of the study with his usual + dignified gait. She could hear him with dignified firmness cross the + dining-room, then the drawing-room, laugh with dignified assurance, and + say to the young man who was playing, “Bravo! bravo!” Soon his footsteps + died away: he must have gone out into the garden. And now not jealousy, + not vexation, but real hatred of his footsteps, his insincere laugh and + voice, took possession of Olga Mihalovna. She went to the window and + looked out into the garden. Pyotr Dmitritch was already walking along the + avenue. Putting one hand in his pocket and snapping the fingers of the + other, he walked with confident swinging steps, throwing his head back a + little, and looking as though he were very well satisfied with himself, + with his dinner, with his digestion, and with nature. . . . + </p> + <p> + Two little schoolboys, the children of Madame Tchizhevsky, who had only + just arrived, made their appearance in the avenue, accompanied by their + tutor, a student wearing a white tunic and very narrow trousers. When they + reached Pyotr Dmitritch, the boys and the student stopped, and probably + congratulated him on his name-day. With a graceful swing of his shoulders, + he patted the children on their cheeks, and carelessly offered the student + his hand without looking at him. The student must have praised the weather + and compared it with the climate of Petersburg, for Pyotr Dmitritch said + in a loud voice, in a tone as though he were not speaking to a guest, but + to an usher of the court or a witness: + </p> + <p> + “What! It’s cold in Petersburg? And here, my good sir, we have a + salubrious atmosphere and the fruits of the earth in abundance. Eh? What?” + </p> + <p> + And thrusting one hand in his pocket and snapping the fingers of the + other, he walked on. Till he had disappeared behind the nut bushes, Olga + Mihalovna watched the back of his head in perplexity. How had this man of + thirty-four come by the dignified deportment of a general? How had he come + by that impressive, elegant manner? Where had he got that vibration of + authority in his voice? Where had he got these “what’s,” “to be sure’s,” + and “my good sir’s”? + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna remembered how in the first months of her marriage she had + felt dreary at home alone and had driven into the town to the Circuit + Court, at which Pyotr Dmitritch had sometimes presided in place of her + godfather, Count Alexey Petrovitch. In the presidential chair, wearing his + uniform and a chain on his breast, he was completely changed. Stately + gestures, a voice of thunder, “what,” “to be sure,” careless tones. . . . + Everything, all that was ordinary and human, all that was individual and + personal to himself that Olga Mihalovna was accustomed to seeing in him at + home, vanished in grandeur, and in the presidential chair there sat not + Pyotr Dmitritch, but another man whom every one called Mr. President. This + consciousness of power prevented him from sitting still in his place, and + he seized every opportunity to ring his bell, to glance sternly at the + public, to shout. . . . Where had he got his short-sight and his deafness + when he suddenly began to see and hear with difficulty, and, frowning + majestically, insisted on people speaking louder and coming closer to the + table? From the height of his grandeur he could hardly distinguish faces + or sounds, so that it seemed that if Olga Mihalovna herself had gone up to + him he would have shouted even to her, “Your name?” Peasant witnesses he + addressed familiarly, he shouted at the public so that his voice could be + heard even in the street, and behaved incredibly with the lawyers. If a + lawyer had to speak to him, Pyotr Dmitritch, turning a little away from + him, looked with half-closed eyes at the ceiling, meaning to signify + thereby that the lawyer was utterly superfluous and that he was neither + recognizing him nor listening to him; if a badly-dressed lawyer spoke, + Pyotr Dmitritch pricked up his ears and looked the man up and down with a + sarcastic, annihilating stare as though to say: “Queer sort of lawyers + nowadays!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” he would interrupt. + </p> + <p> + If a would-be eloquent lawyer mispronounced a foreign word, saying, for + instance, “factitious” instead of “fictitious,” Pyotr Dmitritch brightened + up at once and asked, “What? How? Factitious? What does that mean?” and + then observed impressively: “Don’t make use of words you do not + understand.” And the lawyer, finishing his speech, would walk away from + the table, red and perspiring, while Pyotr Dmitritch; with a + self-satisfied smile, would lean back in his chair triumphant. In his + manner with the lawyers he imitated Count Alexey Petrovitch a little, but + when the latter said, for instance, “Counsel for the defence, you keep + quiet for a little!” it sounded paternally good-natured and natural, while + the same words in Pyotr Dmitritch’s mouth were rude and artificial. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here were sounds + of applause. The young man had finished playing. Olga Mihalovna remembered + her guests and hurried into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “I have so enjoyed your playing,” she said, going up to the piano. “I have + so enjoyed it. You have a wonderful talent! But don’t you think our + piano’s out of tune?” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the two schoolboys walked into the room, accompanied by the + student. + </p> + <p> + “My goodness! Mitya and Kolya,” Olga Mihalovna drawled joyfully, going to + meet them: “How big they have grown! One would not know you! But where is + your mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you on the name-day,” the student began in a free-and-easy + tone, “and I wish you all happiness. Ekaterina Andreyevna sends her + congratulations and begs you to excuse her. She is not very well.” + </p> + <p> + “How unkind of her! I have been expecting her all day. Is it long since + you left Petersburg?” Olga Mihalovna asked the student. “What kind of + weather have you there now?” And without waiting for an answer, she looked + cordially at the schoolboys and repeated: + </p> + <p> + “How tall they have grown! It is not long since they used to come with + their nurse, and they are at school already! The old grow older while the + young grow up. . . . Have you had dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please don’t trouble!” said the student. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you have not had dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “For goodness’ sake, don’t trouble!” + </p> + <p> + “But I suppose you are hungry?” Olga Mihalovna said it in a harsh, rude + voice, with impatience and vexation—it escaped her unawares, but at + once she coughed, smiled, and flushed crimson. “How tall they have grown!” + she said softly. + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t trouble!” the student said once more. + </p> + <p> + The student begged her not to trouble; the boys said nothing; obviously + all three of them were hungry. Olga Mihalovna took them into the + dining-room and told Vassily to lay the table. + </p> + <p> + “How unkind of your mamma!” she said as she made them sit down. “She has + quite forgotten me. Unkind, unkind, unkind . . . you must tell her so. + What are you studying?” she asked the student. + </p> + <p> + “Medicine.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have a weakness for doctors, only fancy. I am very sorry my + husband is not a doctor. What courage any one must have to perform an + operation or dissect a corpse, for instance! Horrible! Aren’t you + frightened? I believe I should die of terror! Of course, you drink vodka?” + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “After your journey you must have something to drink. Though I am a woman, + even I drink sometimes. And Mitya and Kolya will drink Malaga. It’s not a + strong wine; you need not be afraid of it. What fine fellows they are, + really! They’ll be thinking of getting married next.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna talked without ceasing; she knew by experience that when + she had guests to entertain it was far easier and more comfortable to talk + than to listen. When you talk there is no need to strain your attention to + think of answers to questions, and to change your expression of face. But + unawares she asked the student a serious question; the student began a + lengthy speech and she was forced to listen. The student knew that she had + once been at the University, and so tried to seem a serious person as he + talked to her. + </p> + <p> + “What subject are you studying?” she asked, forgetting that she had + already put that question to him. + </p> + <p> + “Medicine.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna now remembered that she had been away from the ladies for a + long while. + </p> + <p> + “Yes? Then I suppose you are going to be a doctor?” she said, getting up. + “That’s splendid. I am sorry I did not go in for medicine myself. So you + will finish your dinner here, gentlemen, and then come into the garden. I + will introduce you to the young ladies.” + </p> + <p> + She went out and glanced at her watch: it was five minutes to six. And she + wondered that the time had gone so slowly, and thought with horror that + there were six more hours before midnight, when the party would break up. + How could she get through those six hours? What phrases could she utter? + How should she behave to her husband? + </p> + <p> + There was not a soul in the drawing-room or on the verandah. All the + guests were sauntering about the garden. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to suggest a walk in the birchwood before tea, or else a row + in the boats,” thought Olga Mihalovna, hurrying to the croquet ground, + from which came the sounds of voices and laughter. + </p> + <p> + “And sit the old people down to <i>vint</i>. . . .” She met Grigory the + footman coming from the croquet ground with empty bottles. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the ladies?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Among the raspberry-bushes. The master’s there, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good heavens!” some one on the croquet lawn shouted with + exasperation. “I have told you a thousand times over! To know the + Bulgarians you must see them! You can’t judge from the papers!” + </p> + <p> + Either because of the outburst or for some other reason, Olga Mihalovna + was suddenly aware of a terrible weakness all over, especially in her legs + and in her shoulders. She felt she could not bear to speak, to listen, or + to move. + </p> + <p> + “Grigory,” she said faintly and with an effort, “when you have to serve + tea or anything, please don’t appeal to me, don’t ask me anything, don’t + speak of anything. . . . Do it all yourself, and . . . and don’t make a + noise with your feet, I entreat you. . . . I can’t, because . . .” + </p> + <p> + Without finishing, she walked on towards the croquet lawn, but on the way + she thought of the ladies, and turned towards the raspberry-bushes. The + sky, the air, and the trees looked gloomy again and threatened rain; it + was hot and stifling. An immense flock of crows, foreseeing a storm, flew + cawing over the garden. The paths were more overgrown, darker, and + narrower as they got nearer the kitchen garden. In one of them, buried in + a thick tangle of wild pear, crab-apple, sorrel, young oaks, and hopbine, + clouds of tiny black flies swarmed round Olga Mihalovna. She covered her + face with her hands and began forcing herself to think of the little + creature . . . . There floated through her imagination the figures of + Grigory, Mitya, Kolya, the faces of the peasants who had come in the + morning to present their congratulations. + </p> + <p> + She heard footsteps, and she opened her eyes. Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch was + coming rapidly towards her. + </p> + <p> + “It’s you, dear? I am very glad . . .” he began, breathless. “A couple of + words. . . .” He mopped with his handkerchief his red shaven chin, then + suddenly stepped back a pace, flung up his hands and opened his eyes wide. + “My dear girl, how long is this going on?” he said rapidly, spluttering. + “I ask you: is there no limit to it? I say nothing of the demoralizing + effect of his martinet views on all around him, of the way he insults all + that is sacred and best in me and in every honest thinking man—I + will say nothing about that, but he might at least behave decently! Why, + he shouts, he bellows, gives himself airs, poses as a sort of Bonaparte, + does not let one say a word. . . . I don’t know what the devil’s the + matter with him! These lordly gestures, this condescending tone; and + laughing like a general! Who is he, allow me to ask you? I ask you, who is + he? The husband of his wife, with a few paltry acres and the rank of a + titular who has had the luck to marry an heiress! An upstart and a <i>junker</i>, + like so many others! A type out of Shtchedrin! Upon my word, it’s either + that he’s suffering from megalomania, or that old rat in his dotage, Count + Alexey Petrovitch, is right when he says that children and young people + are a long time growing up nowadays, and go on playing they are cabmen and + generals till they are forty!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true, that’s true,” Olga Mihalovna assented. “Let me pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Now just consider: what is it leading to?” her uncle went on, barring her + way. “How will this playing at being a general and a Conservative end? + Already he has got into trouble! Yes, to stand his trial! I am very glad + of it! That’s what his noise and shouting has brought him to—to + stand in the prisoner’s dock. And it’s not as though it were the Circuit + Court or something: it’s the Central Court! Nothing worse could be + imagined, I think! And then he has quarrelled with every one! He is + celebrating his name-day, and look, Vostryakov’s not here, nor Yahontov, + nor Vladimirov, nor Shevud, nor the Count. . . . There is no one, I + imagine, more Conservative than Count Alexey Petrovitch, yet even he has + not come. And he never will come again. He won’t come, you will see!” + </p> + <p> + “My God! but what has it to do with me?” asked Olga Mihalovna. + </p> + <p> + “What has it to do with you? Why, you are his wife! You are clever, you + have had a university education, and it was in your power to make him an + honest worker!” + </p> + <p> + “At the lectures I went to they did not teach us how to influence tiresome + people. It seems as though I should have to apologize to all of you for + having been at the University,” said Olga Mihalovna sharply. “Listen, + uncle. If people played the same scales over and over again the whole day + long in your hearing, you wouldn’t be able to sit still and listen, but + would run away. I hear the same thing over again for days together all the + year round. You must have pity on me at last.” + </p> + <p> + Her uncle pulled a very long face, then looked at her searchingly and + twisted his lips into a mocking smile. + </p> + <p> + “So that’s how it is,” he piped in a voice like an old woman’s. “I beg + your pardon!” he said, and made a ceremonious bow. “If you have fallen + under his influence yourself, and have abandoned your convictions, you + should have said so before. I beg your pardon!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have abandoned my convictions,” she cried. “There; make the most + of it!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon!” + </p> + <p> + Her uncle for the last time made her a ceremonious bow, a little on one + side, and, shrinking into himself, made a scrape with his foot and walked + back. + </p> + <p> + “Idiot!” thought Olga Mihalovna. “I hope he will go home.” + </p> + <p> + She found the ladies and the young people among the raspberries in the + kitchen garden. Some were eating raspberries; others, tired of eating + raspberries, were strolling about the strawberry beds or foraging among + the sugar-peas. A little on one side of the raspberry bed, near a + branching appletree propped up by posts which had been pulled out of an + old fence, Pyotr Dmitritch was mowing the grass. His hair was falling over + his forehead, his cravat was untied. His watch-chain was hanging loose. + Every step and every swing of the scythe showed skill and the possession + of immense physical strength. Near him were standing Lubotchka and the + daughters of a neighbour, Colonel Bukryeev—two anaemic and + unhealthily stout fair girls, Natalya and Valentina, or, as they were + always called, Nata and Vata, both wearing white frocks and strikingly + like each other. Pyotr Dmitritch was teaching them to mow. + </p> + <p> + “It’s very simple,” he said. “You have only to know how to hold the scythe + and not to get too hot over it—that is, not to use more force than + is necessary! Like this. . . . Wouldn’t you like to try?” he said, + offering the scythe to Lubotchka. “Come!” + </p> + <p> + Lubotchka took the scythe clumsily, blushed crimson, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid, Lubov Alexandrovna!” cried Olga Mihalovna, loud enough + for all the ladies to hear that she was with them. “Don’t be afraid! You + must learn! If you marry a Tolstoyan he will make you mow.” + </p> + <p> + Lubotchka raised the scythe, but began laughing again, and, helpless with + laughter, let go of it at once. She was ashamed and pleased at being + talked to as though grown up. Nata, with a cold, serious face, with no + trace of smiling or shyness, took the scythe, swung it and caught it in + the grass; Vata, also without a smile, as cold and serious as her sister, + took the scythe, and silently thrust it into the earth. Having done this, + the two sisters linked arms and walked in silence to the raspberries. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch laughed and played about like a boy, and this childish, + frolicsome mood in which he became exceedingly good-natured suited him far + better than any other. Olga Mihalovna loved him when he was like that. But + his boyishness did not usually last long. It did not this time; after + playing with the scythe, he for some reason thought it necessary to take a + serious tone about it. + </p> + <p> + “When I am mowing, I feel, do you know, healthier and more normal,” he + said. “If I were forced to confine myself to an intellectual life I + believe I should go out of my mind. I feel that I was not born to be a man + of culture! I ought to mow, plough, sow, drive out the horses.” + </p> + <p> + And Pyotr Dmitritch began a conversation with the ladies about the + advantages of physical labour, about culture, and then about the + pernicious effects of money, of property. Listening to her husband, Olga + Mihalovna, for some reason, thought of her dowry. + </p> + <p> + “And the time will come, I suppose,” she thought, “when he will not + forgive me for being richer than he. He is proud and vain. Maybe he will + hate me because he owes so much to me.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped near Colonel Bukryeev, who was eating raspberries and also + taking part in the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, making room for Olga Mihalovna and Pyotr Dmitritch. “The + ripest are here. . . . And so, according to Proudhon,” he went on, raising + his voice, “property is robbery. But I must confess I don’t believe in + Proudhon, and don’t consider him a philosopher. The French are not + authorities, to my thinking—God bless them!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as for Proudhons and Buckles and the rest of them, I am weak in + that department,” said Pyotr Dmitritch. “For philosophy you must apply to + my wife. She has been at University lectures and knows all your + Schopenhauers and Proudhons by heart. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna felt bored again. She walked again along a little path by + apple and pear trees, and looked again as though she was on some very + important errand. She reached the gardener’s cottage. In the doorway the + gardener’s wife, Varvara, was sitting together with her four little + children with big shaven heads. Varvara, too, was with child and expecting + to be confined on Elijah’s Day. After greeting her, Olga Mihalovna looked + at her and the children in silence and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Well, how do you feel?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right. . . .” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed. The two women seemed to understand each other without + words. + </p> + <p> + “It’s dreadful having one’s first baby,” said Olga Mihalovna after a + moment’s thought. “I keep feeling as though I shall not get through it, as + though I shall die.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancied that, too, but here I am alive. One has all sorts of fancies.” + </p> + <p> + Varvara, who was just going to have her fifth, looked down a little on her + mistress from the height of her experience and spoke in a rather didactic + tone, and Olga Mihalovna could not help feeling her authority; she would + have liked to have talked of her fears, of the child, of her sensations, + but she was afraid it might strike Varvara as naïve and trivial. And she + waited in silence for Varvara to say something herself. + </p> + <p> + “Olya, we are going indoors,” Pyotr Dmitritch called from the raspberries. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna liked being silent, waiting and watching Varvara. She would + have been ready to stay like that till night without speaking or having + any duty to perform. But she had to go. She had hardly left the cottage + when Lubotchka, Nata, and Vata came running to meet her. The sisters + stopped short abruptly a couple of yards away; Lubotchka ran right up to + her and flung herself on her neck. + </p> + <p> + “You dear, darling, precious,” she said, kissing her face and her neck. + “Let us go and have tea on the island!” + </p> + <p> + “On the island, on the island!” said the precisely similar Nata and Vata, + both at once, without a smile. + </p> + <p> + “But it’s going to rain, my dears.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not, it’s not,” cried Lubotchka with a woebegone face. “They’ve all + agreed to go. Dear! darling!” + </p> + <p> + “They are all getting ready to have tea on the island,” said Pyotr + Dmitritch, coming up. “See to arranging things. . . . We will all go in + the boats, and the samovars and all the rest of it must be sent in the + carriage with the servants.” + </p> + <p> + He walked beside his wife and gave her his arm. Olga Mihalovna had a + desire to say something disagreeable to her husband, something biting, + even about her dowry perhaps—the crueller the better, she felt. She + thought a little, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Why is it Count Alexey Petrovitch hasn’t come? What a pity!” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad he hasn’t come,” said Pyotr Dmitritch, lying. “I’m sick to + death of that old lunatic.” + </p> + <p> + “But yet before dinner you were expecting him so eagerly!” + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>alf an hour later + all the guests were crowding on the bank near the pile to which the boats + were fastened. They were all talking and laughing, and were in such + excitement and commotion that they could hardly get into the boats. Three + boats were crammed with passengers, while two stood empty. The keys for + unfastening these two boats had been somehow mislaid, and messengers were + continually running from the river to the house to look for them. Some + said Grigory had the keys, others that the bailiff had them, while others + suggested sending for a blacksmith and breaking the padlocks. And all + talked at once, interrupting and shouting one another down. Pyotr + Dmitritch paced impatiently to and fro on the bank, shouting: + </p> + <p> + “What the devil’s the meaning of it! The keys ought always to be lying in + the hall window! Who has dared to take them away? The bailiff can get a + boat of his own if he wants one!” + </p> + <p> + At last the keys were found. Then it appeared that two oars were missing. + Again there was a great hullabaloo. Pyotr Dmitritch, who was weary of + pacing about the bank, jumped into a long, narrow boat hollowed out of the + trunk of a poplar, and, lurching from side to side and almost falling into + the water, pushed off from the bank. The other boats followed him one + after another, amid loud laughter and the shrieks of the young ladies. + </p> + <p> + The white cloudy sky, the trees on the riverside, the boats with the + people in them, and the oars, were reflected in the water as in a mirror; + under the boats, far away below in the bottomless depths, was a second sky + with the birds flying across it. The bank on which the house and gardens + stood was high, steep, and covered with trees; on the other, which was + sloping, stretched broad green water-meadows with sheets of water + glistening in them. The boats had floated a hundred yards when, behind the + mournfully drooping willows on the sloping banks, huts and a herd of cows + came into sight; they began to hear songs, drunken shouts, and the strains + of a concertina. + </p> + <p> + Here and there on the river fishing-boats were scattered about, setting + their nets for the night. In one of these boats was the festive party, + playing on home-made violins and violoncellos. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna was sitting at the rudder; she was smiling affably and + talking a great deal to entertain her visitors, while she glanced + stealthily at her husband. He was ahead of them all, standing up punting + with one oar. The light sharp-nosed canoe, which all the guests called the + “death-trap”—while Pyotr Dmitritch, for some reason, called it <i>Penderaklia</i>—flew + along quickly; it had a brisk, crafty expression, as though it hated its + heavy occupant and was looking out for a favourable moment to glide away + from under his feet. Olga Mihalovna kept looking at her husband, and she + loathed his good looks which attracted every one, the back of his head, + his attitude, his familiar manner with women; she hated all the women + sitting in the boat with her, was jealous, and at the same time was + trembling every minute in terror that the frail craft would upset and + cause an accident. + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Pyotr!” she cried, while her heart fluttered with terror. “Sit + down! We believe in your courage without all that!” + </p> + <p> + She was worried, too, by the people who were in the boat with her. They + were all ordinary good sort of people like thousands of others, but now + each one of them struck her as exceptional and evil. In each one of them + she saw nothing but falsity. “That young man,” she thought, “rowing, in + gold-rimmed spectacles, with chestnut hair and a nice-looking beard: he is + a mamma’s darling, rich, and well-fed, and always fortunate, and every one + considers him an honourable, free-thinking, advanced man. It’s not a year + since he left the University and came to live in the district, but he + already talks of himself as ‘we active members of the Zemstvo.’ But in + another year he will be bored like so many others and go off to + Petersburg, and to justify running away, will tell every one that the + Zemstvos are good-for-nothing, and that he has been deceived in them. + While from the other boat his young wife keeps her eyes fixed on him, and + believes that he is ‘an active member of the Zemstvo,’ just as in a year + she will believe that the Zemstvo is good-for-nothing. And that stout, + carefully shaven gentleman in the straw hat with the broad ribbon, with an + expensive cigar in his mouth: he is fond of saying, ‘It is time to put + away dreams and set to work!’ He has Yorkshire pigs, Butler’s hives, + rape-seed, pine-apples, a dairy, a cheese factory, Italian bookkeeping by + double entry; but every summer he sells his timber and mortgages part of + his land to spend the autumn with his mistress in the Crimea. And there’s + Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch, who has quarrelled with Pyotr Dmitritch, and yet + for some reason does not go home.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna looked at the other boats, and there, too, she saw only + uninteresting, queer creatures, affected or stupid people. She thought of + all the people she knew in the district, and could not remember one person + of whom one could say or think anything good. They all seemed to her + mediocre, insipid, unintelligent, narrow, false, heartless; they all said + what they did not think, and did what they did not want to. Dreariness and + despair were stifling her; she longed to leave off smiling, to leap up and + cry out, “I am sick of you,” and then jump out and swim to the bank. + </p> + <p> + “I say, let’s take Pyotr Dmitritch in tow!” some one shouted. + </p> + <p> + “In tow, in tow!” the others chimed in. “Olga Mihalovna, take your husband + in tow.” + </p> + <p> + To take him in tow, Olga Mihalovna, who was steering, had to seize the + right moment and to catch bold of his boat by the chain at the beak. When + she bent over to the chain Pyotr Dmitritch frowned and looked at her in + alarm. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you won’t catch cold,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “If you are uneasy about me and the child, why do you torment me?” thought + Olga Mihalovna. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch acknowledged himself vanquished, and, not caring to be + towed, jumped from the <i>Penderaklia</i> into the boat which was overful + already, and jumped so carelessly that the boat lurched violently, and + every one cried out in terror. + </p> + <p> + “He did that to please the ladies,” thought Olga Mihalovna; “he knows it’s + charming.” Her hands and feet began trembling, as she supposed, from + boredom, vexation from the strain of smiling and the discomfort she felt + all over her body. And to conceal this trembling from her guests, she + tried to talk more loudly, to laugh, to move. + </p> + <p> + “If I suddenly begin to cry,” she thought, “I shall say I have toothache. + . . .” + </p> + <p> + But at last the boats reached the “Island of Good Hope,” as they called + the peninsula formed by a bend in the river at an acute angle, covered + with a copse of old birch-trees, oaks, willows, and poplars. The tables + were already laid under the trees; the samovars were smoking, and Vassily + and Grigory, in their swallow-tails and white knitted gloves, were already + busy with the tea-things. On the other bank, opposite the “Island of Good + Hope,” there stood the carriages which had come with the provisions. The + baskets and parcels of provisions were carried across to the island in a + little boat like the <i>Penderaklia</i>. The footmen, the coachmen, and + even the peasant who was sitting in the boat, had the solemn expression + befitting a name-day such as one only sees in children and servants. + </p> + <p> + While Olga Mihalovna was making the tea and pouring out the first glasses, + the visitors were busy with the liqueurs and sweet things. Then there was + the general commotion usual at picnics over drinking tea, very wearisome + and exhausting for the hostess. Grigory and Vassily had hardly had time to + take the glasses round before hands were being stretched out to Olga + Mihalovna with empty glasses. One asked for no sugar, another wanted it + stronger, another weak, a fourth declined another glass. And all this Olga + Mihalovna had to remember, and then to call, “Ivan Petrovitch, is it + without sugar for you?” or, “Gentlemen, which of you wanted it weak?” But + the guest who had asked for weak tea, or no sugar, had by now forgotten + it, and, absorbed in agreeable conversation, took the first glass that + came. Depressed-looking figures wandered like shadows at a little distance + from the table, pretending to look for mushrooms in the grass, or reading + the labels on the boxes—these were those for whom there were not + glasses enough. “Have you had tea?” Olga Mihalovna kept asking, and the + guest so addressed begged her not to trouble, and said, “I will wait,” + though it would have suited her better for the visitors not to wait but to + make haste. + </p> + <p> + Some, absorbed in conversation, drank their tea slowly, keeping their + glasses for half an hour; others, especially some who had drunk a good + deal at dinner, would not leave the table, and kept on drinking glass + after glass, so that Olga Mihalovna scarcely had time to fill them. One + jocular young man sipped his tea through a lump of sugar, and kept saying, + “Sinful man that I am, I love to indulge myself with the Chinese herb.” He + kept asking with a heavy sigh: “Another tiny dish of tea more, if you + please.” He drank a great deal, nibbled his sugar, and thought it all very + amusing and original, and imagined that he was doing a clever imitation of + a Russian merchant. None of them understood that these trifles were + agonizing to their hostess, and, indeed, it was hard to understand it, as + Olga Mihalovna went on all the time smiling affably and talking nonsense. + </p> + <p> + But she felt ill. . . . She was irritated by the crowd of people, the + laughter, the questions, the jocular young man, the footmen harassed and + run off their legs, the children who hung round the table; she was + irritated at Vata’s being like Nata, at Kolya’s being like Mitya, so that + one could not tell which of them had had tea and which of them had not. + She felt that her smile of forced affability was passing into an + expression of anger, and she felt every minute as though she would burst + into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Rain, my friends,” cried some one. + </p> + <p> + Every one looked at the sky. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it really is rain . . .” Pyotr Dmitritch assented, and wiped his + cheek. + </p> + <p> + Only a few drops were falling from the sky—the real rain had not + begun yet; but the company abandoned their tea and made haste to get off. + At first they all wanted to drive home in the carriages, but changed their + minds and made for the boats. On the pretext that she had to hasten home + to give directions about the supper, Olga Mihalovna asked to be excused + for leaving the others, and went home in the carriage. + </p> + <p> + When she got into the carriage, she first of all let her face rest from + smiling. With an angry face she drove through the village, and with an + angry face acknowledged the bows of the peasants she met. When she got + home, she went to the bedroom by the back way and lay down on her + husband’s bed. + </p> + <p> + “Merciful God!” she whispered. “What is all this hard labour for? Why do + all these people hustle each other here and pretend that they are enjoying + themselves? Why do I smile and lie? I don’t understand it.” + </p> + <p> + She heard steps and voices. The visitors had come back. + </p> + <p> + “Let them come,” thought Olga Mihalovna; “I shall lie a little longer.” + </p> + <p> + But a maid-servant came and said: + </p> + <p> + “Marya Grigoryevna is going, madam.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna jumped up, tidied her hair and hurried out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Marya Grigoryevna, what is the meaning of this?” she began in an injured + voice, going to meet Marya Grigoryevna. “Why are you in such a hurry?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help it, darling! I’ve stayed too long as it is; my children are + expecting me home.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s too bad of you! Why didn’t you bring your children with you?” + </p> + <p> + “If you will let me, dear, I will bring them on some ordinary day, but + to-day . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please do,” Olga Mihalovna interrupted; “I shall be delighted! Your + children are so sweet! Kiss them all for me. . . . But, really, I am + offended with you! I don’t understand why you are in such a hurry!” + </p> + <p> + “I really must, I really must. . . . Good-bye, dear. Take care of + yourself. In your condition, you know . . .” + </p> + <p> + And the ladies kissed each other. After seeing the departing guest to her + carriage, Olga Mihalovna went in to the ladies in the drawing-room. There + the lamps were already lighted and the gentlemen were sitting down to + cards. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he party broke up + after supper about a quarter past twelve. Seeing her visitors off, Olga + Mihalovna stood at the door and said: + </p> + <p> + “You really ought to take a shawl! It’s turning a little chilly. Please + God, you don’t catch cold!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t trouble, Olga Mihalovna,” the ladies answered as they got into the + carriage. “Well, good-bye. Mind now, we are expecting you; don’t play us + false!” + </p> + <p> + “Wo-o-o!” the coachman checked the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Ready, Denis! Good-bye, Olga Mihalovna!” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss the children for me!” + </p> + <p> + The carriage started and immediately disappeared into the darkness. In the + red circle of light cast by the lamp in the road, a fresh pair or trio of + impatient horses, and the silhouette of a coachman with his hands held out + stiffly before him, would come into view. Again there began kisses, + reproaches, and entreaties to come again or to take a shawl. Pyotr + Dmitritch kept running out and helping the ladies into their carriages. + </p> + <p> + “You go now by Efremovshtchina,” he directed the coachman; “it’s nearer + through Mankino, but the road is worse that way. You might have an upset. + . . . Good-bye, my charmer. <i>Mille</i> compliments to your artist!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Olga Mihalovna, darling! Go indoors, or you will catch cold! + It’s damp!” + </p> + <p> + “Wo-o-o! you rascal!” + </p> + <p> + “What horses have you got here?” Pyotr Dmitritch asked. + </p> + <p> + “They were bought from Haidorov, in Lent,” answered the coachman. + </p> + <p> + “Capital horses. . . .” + </p> + <p> + And Pyotr Dmitritch patted the trace horse on the haunch. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can start! God give you good luck!” + </p> + <p> + The last visitor was gone at last; the red circle on the road quivered, + moved aside, contracted and went out, as Vassily carried away the lamp + from the entrance. On previous occasions when they had seen off their + visitors, Pyotr Dmitritch and Olga Mihalovna had begun dancing about the + drawing-room, facing each other, clapping their hands and singing: + “They’ve gone! They’ve gone!” But now Olga Mihalovna was not equal to + that. She went to her bedroom, undressed, and got into bed. + </p> + <p> + She fancied she would fall asleep at once and sleep soundly. Her legs and + her shoulders ached painfully, her head was heavy from the strain of + talking, and she was conscious, as before, of discomfort all over her + body. Covering her head over, she lay still for three or four minutes, + then peeped out from under the bed-clothes at the lamp before the ikon, + listened to the silence, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It’s nice, it’s nice,” she whispered, curling up her legs, which felt as + if they had grown longer from so much walking. “Sleep, sleep . . . .” + </p> + <p> + Her legs would not get into a comfortable position; she felt uneasy all + over, and she turned on the other side. A big fly blew buzzing about the + bedroom and thumped against the ceiling. She could hear, too, Grigory and + Vassily stepping cautiously about the drawing-room, putting the chairs + back in their places; it seemed to Olga Mihalovna that she could not go to + sleep, nor be comfortable till those sounds were hushed. And again she + turned over on the other side impatiently. + </p> + <p> + She heard her husband’s voice in the drawing-room. Some one must be + staying the night, as Pyotr Dmitritch was addressing some one and speaking + loudly: + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say that Count Alexey Petrovitch is an impostor. But he can’t + help seeming to be one, because all of you gentlemen attempt to see in him + something different from what he really is. His craziness is looked upon + as originality, his familiar manners as good-nature, and his complete + absence of opinions as Conservatism. Even granted that he is a + Conservative of the stamp of ‘84, what after all is Conservatism?” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch, angry with Count Alexey Petrovitch, his visitors, and + himself, was relieving his heart. He abused both the Count and his + visitors, and in his vexation with himself was ready to speak out and to + hold forth upon anything. After seeing his guest to his room, he walked up + and down the drawing-room, walked through the dining-room, down the + corridor, then into his study, then again went into the drawing-room, and + came into the bedroom. Olga Mihalovna was lying on her back, with the + bed-clothes only to her waist (by now she felt hot), and with an angry + face, watched the fly that was thumping against the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Is some one staying the night?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yegorov.” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch undressed and got into his bed. + </p> + <p> + Without speaking, he lighted a cigarette, and he, too, fell to watching + the fly. There was an uneasy and forbidding look in his eyes. Olga + Mihalovna looked at his handsome profile for five minutes in silence. It + seemed to her for some reason that if her husband were suddenly to turn + facing her, and to say, “Olga, I am unhappy,” she would cry or laugh, and + she would be at ease. She fancied that her legs were aching and her body + was uncomfortable all over because of the strain on her feelings. + </p> + <p> + “Pyotr, what are you thinking of?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing . . .” her husband answered. + </p> + <p> + “You have taken to having secrets from me of late: that’s not right.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it not right?” answered Pyotr Dmitritch drily and not at once. “We + all have our personal life, every one of us, and we are bound to have our + secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “Personal life, our secrets . . . that’s all words! Understand you are + wounding me!” said Olga Mihalovna, sitting up in bed. “If you have a load + on your heart, why do you hide it from me? And why do you find it more + suitable to open your heart to women who are nothing to you, instead of to + your wife? I overheard your outpourings to Lubotchka by the bee-house + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I congratulate you. I am glad you did overhear it.” + </p> + <p> + This meant “Leave me alone and let me think.” Olga Mihalovna was + indignant. Vexation, hatred, and wrath, which had been accumulating within + her during the whole day, suddenly boiled over; she wanted at once to + speak out, to hurt her husband without putting it off till to-morrow, to + wound him, to punish him. . . . Making an effort to control herself and + not to scream, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you, then, that it’s all loathsome, loathsome, loathsome! + I’ve been hating you all day; you see what you’ve done.” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch, too, got up and sat on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “It’s loathsome, loathsome, loathsome,” Olga Mihalovna went on, beginning + to tremble all over. “There’s no need to congratulate me; you had better + congratulate yourself! It’s a shame, a disgrace. You have wrapped yourself + in lies till you are ashamed to be alone in the room with your wife! You + are a deceitful man! I see through you and understand every step you + take!” + </p> + <p> + “Olya, I wish you would please warn me when you are out of humour. Then I + will sleep in the study.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, Pyotr Dmitritch picked up his pillow and walked out of the + bedroom. Olga Mihalovna had not foreseen this. For some minutes she + remained silent with her mouth open, trembling all over and looking at the + door by which her husband had gone out, and trying to understand what it + meant. Was this one of the devices to which deceitful people have recourse + when they are in the wrong, or was it a deliberate insult aimed at her + pride? How was she to take it? Olga Mihalovna remembered her cousin, a + lively young officer, who often used to tell her, laughing, that when “his + spouse nagged at him” at night, he usually picked up his pillow and went + whistling to spend the night in his study, leaving his wife in a foolish + and ridiculous position. This officer was married to a rich, capricious, + and foolish woman whom he did not respect but simply put up with. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna jumped out of bed. To her mind there was only one thing + left for her to do now; to dress with all possible haste and to leave the + house forever. The house was her own, but so much the worse for Pyotr + Dmitritch. Without pausing to consider whether this was necessary or not, + she went quickly to the study to inform her husband of her intention + (“Feminine logic!” flashed through her mind), and to say something + wounding and sarcastic at parting. . . . + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch was lying on the sofa and pretending to read a newspaper. + There was a candle burning on a chair near him. His face could not be seen + behind the newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “Be so kind as to tell me what this means? I am asking you.” + </p> + <p> + “Be so kind . . .” Pyotr Dmitritch mimicked her, not showing his face. + “It’s sickening, Olga! Upon my honour, I am exhausted and not up to it. . + . . Let us do our quarrelling to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I understand you perfectly!” Olga Mihalovna went on. “You hate me! + Yes, yes! You hate me because I am richer than you! You will never forgive + me for that, and will always be lying to me!” (“Feminine logic!” flashed + through her mind again.) “You are laughing at me now. . . . I am + convinced, in fact, that you only married me in order to have property + qualifications and those wretched horses. . . . Oh, I am miserable!” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch dropped the newspaper and got up. The unexpected insult + overwhelmed him. With a childishly helpless smile he looked desperately at + his wife, and holding out his hands to her as though to ward off blows, he + said imploringly: + </p> + <p> + “Olya!” + </p> + <p> + And expecting her to say something else awful, he leaned back in his + chair, and his huge figure seemed as helplessly childish as his smile. + </p> + <p> + “Olya, how could you say it?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna came to herself. She was suddenly aware of her passionate + love for this man, remembered that he was her husband, Pyotr Dmitritch, + without whom she could not live for a day, and who loved her passionately, + too. She burst into loud sobs that sounded strange and unlike her, and ran + back to her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + She fell on the bed, and short hysterical sobs, choking her and making her + arms and legs twitch, filled the bedroom. Remembering there was a visitor + sleeping three or four rooms away, she buried her head under the pillow to + stifle her sobs, but the pillow rolled on to the floor, and she almost + fell on the floor herself when she stooped to pick it up. She pulled the + quilt up to her face, but her hands would not obey her, but tore + convulsively at everything she clutched. + </p> + <p> + She thought that everything was lost, that the falsehood she had told to + wound her husband had shattered her life into fragments. Her husband would + not forgive her. The insult she had hurled at him was not one that could + be effaced by any caresses, by any vows. . . . How could she convince her + husband that she did not believe what she had said? + </p> + <p> + “It’s all over, it’s all over!” she cried, not noticing that the pillow + had slipped on to the floor again. “For God’s sake, for God’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + Probably roused by her cries, the guest and the servants were now awake; + next day all the neighbourhood would know that she had been in hysterics + and would blame Pyotr Dmitritch. She made an effort to restrain herself, + but her sobs grew louder and louder every minute. + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake,” she cried in a voice not like her own, and not knowing + why she cried it. “For God’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + She felt as though the bed were heaving under her and her feet were + entangled in the bed-clothes. Pyotr Dmitritch, in his dressing-gown, with + a candle in his hand, came into the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “Olya, hush!” he said. + </p> + <p> + She raised herself, and kneeling up in bed, screwing up her eyes at the + light, articulated through her sobs: + </p> + <p> + “Understand . . . understand! . . . .” + </p> + <p> + She wanted to tell him that she was tired to death by the party, by his + falsity, by her own falsity, that it had all worked together, but she + could only articulate: + </p> + <p> + “Understand . . . understand!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, drink!” he said, handing her some water. + </p> + <p> + She took the glass obediently and began drinking, but the water splashed + over and was spilt on her arms, her throat and knees. + </p> + <p> + “I must look horribly unseemly,” she thought. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch put her back in bed without a word, and covered her with + the quilt, then he took the candle and went out. + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake!” Olga Mihalovna cried again. “Pyotr, understand, + understand!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly something gripped her in the lower part of her body and back with + such violence that her wailing was cut short, and she bit the pillow from + the pain. But the pain let her go again at once, and she began sobbing + again. + </p> + <p> + The maid came in, and arranging the quilt over her, asked in alarm: + </p> + <p> + “Mistress, darling, what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Go out of the room,” said Pyotr Dmitritch sternly, going up to the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Understand . . . understand! . . .” Olga Mihalovna began. + </p> + <p> + “Olya, I entreat you, calm yourself,” he said. “I did not mean to hurt + you. I would not have gone out of the room if I had known it would have + hurt you so much; I simply felt depressed. I tell you, on my honour . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Understand! . . . You were lying, I was lying. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. . . . Come, come, that’s enough! I understand,” said Pyotr + Dmitritch tenderly, sitting down on her bed. “You said that in anger; I + quite understand. I swear to God I love you beyond anything on earth, and + when I married you I never once thought of your being rich. I loved you + immensely, and that’s all . . . I assure you. I have never been in want of + money or felt the value of it, and so I cannot feel the difference between + your fortune and mine. It always seemed to me we were equally well off. + And that I have been deceitful in little things, that . . . of course, is + true. My life has hitherto been arranged in such a frivolous way that it + has somehow been impossible to get on without paltry lying. It weighs on + me, too, now. . . . Let us leave off talking about it, for goodness’ + sake!” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna again felt in acute pain, and clutched her husband by the + sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “I am in pain, in pain, in pain . . .” she said rapidly. “Oh, what pain!” + </p> + <p> + “Damnation take those visitors!” muttered Pyotr Dmitritch, getting up. + “You ought not to have gone to the island to-day!” he cried. “What an + idiot I was not to prevent you! Oh, my God!” + </p> + <p> + He scratched his head in vexation, and, with a wave of his hand, walked + out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Then he came into the room several times, sat down on the bed beside her, + and talked a great deal, sometimes tenderly, sometimes angrily, but she + hardly heard him. Her sobs were continually interrupted by fearful attacks + of pain, and each time the pain was more acute and prolonged. At first she + held her breath and bit the pillow during the pain, but then she began + screaming on an unseemly piercing note. Once seeing her husband near her, + she remembered that she had insulted him, and without pausing to think + whether it were really Pyotr Dmitritch or whether she were in delirium, + clutched his hand in both hers and began kissing it. + </p> + <p> + “You were lying, I was lying . . .” she began justifying herself. + “Understand, understand. . . . They have exhausted me, driven me out of + all patience.” + </p> + <p> + “Olya, we are not alone,” said Pyotr Dmitritch. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna raised her head and saw Varvara, who was kneeling by the + chest of drawers and pulling out the bottom drawer. The top drawers were + already open. Then Varvara got up, red from the strained position, and + with a cold, solemn face began trying to unlock a box. + </p> + <p> + “Marya, I can’t unlock it!” she said in a whisper. “You unlock it, won’t + you?” + </p> + <p> + Marya, the maid, was digging a candle end out of the candlestick with a + pair of scissors, so as to put in a new candle; she went up to Varvara and + helped her to unlock the box. + </p> + <p> + “There should be nothing locked . . .” whispered Varvara. “Unlock this + basket, too, my good girl. Master,” she said, “you should send to Father + Mihail to unlock the holy gates! You must!” + </p> + <p> + “Do what you like,” said Pyotr Dmitritch, breathing hard, “only, for God’s + sake, make haste and fetch the doctor or the midwife! Has Vassily gone? + Send some one else. Send your husband!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the birth,” Olga Mihalovna thought. “Varvara,” she moaned, “but he + won’t be born alive!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, it’s all right, mistress,” whispered Varvara. “Please + God, he will be alive! he will be alive!” + </p> + <p> + When Olga Mihalovna came to herself again after a pain she was no longer + sobbing nor tossing from side to side, but moaning. She could not refrain + from moaning even in the intervals between the pains. The candles were + still burning, but the morning light was coming through the blinds. It was + probably about five o’clock in the morning. At the round table there was + sitting some unknown woman with a very discreet air, wearing a white + apron. From her whole appearance it was evident she had been sitting there + a long time. Olga Mihalovna guessed that she was the midwife. + </p> + <p> + “Will it soon be over?” she asked, and in her voice she heard a peculiar + and unfamiliar note which had never been there before. “I must be dying in + childbirth,” she thought. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch came cautiously into the bedroom, dressed for the day, and + stood at the window with his back to his wife. He lifted the blind and + looked out of window. + </p> + <p> + “What rain!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What time is it?” asked Olga Mihalovna, in order to hear the unfamiliar + note in her voice again. + </p> + <p> + “A quarter to six,” answered the midwife. + </p> + <p> + “And what if I really am dying?” thought Olga Mihalovna, looking at her + husband’s head and the window-panes on which the rain was beating. “How + will he live without me? With whom will he have tea and dinner, talk in + the evenings, sleep?” + </p> + <p> + And he seemed to her like a forlorn child; she felt sorry for him and + wanted to say something nice, caressing and consolatory. She remembered + how in the spring he had meant to buy himself some harriers, and she, + thinking it a cruel and dangerous sport, had prevented him from doing it. + </p> + <p> + “Pyotr, buy yourself harriers,” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + He dropped the blind and went up to the bed, and would have said + something; but at that moment the pain came back, and Olga Mihalovna + uttered an unseemly, piercing scream. + </p> + <p> + The pain and the constant screaming and moaning stupefied her. She heard, + saw, and sometimes spoke, but hardly understood anything, and was only + conscious that she was in pain or was just going to be in pain. It seemed + to her that the nameday party had been long, long ago—not yesterday, + but a year ago perhaps; and that her new life of agony had lasted longer + than her childhood, her school-days, her time at the University, and her + marriage, and would go on for a long, long time, endlessly. She saw them + bring tea to the midwife, and summon her at midday to lunch and afterwards + to dinner; she saw Pyotr Dmitritch grow used to coming in, standing for + long intervals by the window, and going out again; saw strange men, the + maid, Varvara, come in as though they were at home. . . . Varvara said + nothing but, “He will, he will,” and was angry when any one closed the + drawers and the chest. Olga Mihalovna saw the light change in the room and + in the windows: at one time it was twilight, then thick like fog, then + bright daylight as it had been at dinner-time the day before, then again + twilight . . . and each of these changes lasted as long as her childhood, + her school-days, her life at the University. . . . + </p> + <p> + In the evening two doctors—one bony, bald, with a big red beard; the + other with a swarthy Jewish face and cheap spectacles—performed some + sort of operation on Olga Mihalovna. To these unknown men touching her + body she felt utterly indifferent. By now she had no feeling of shame, no + will, and any one might do what he would with her. If any one had rushed + at her with a knife, or had insulted Pyotr Dmitritch, or had robbed her of + her right to the little creature, she would not have said a word. + </p> + <p> + They gave her chloroform during the operation. When she came to again, the + pain was still there and insufferable. It was night. And Olga Mihalovna + remembered that there had been just such a night with the stillness, the + lamp, with the midwife sitting motionless by the bed, with the drawers of + the chest pulled out, with Pyotr Dmitritch standing by the window, but + some time very, very long ago. . . . + </p> + <h3> + V + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">“I</span> am not dead . . + .” thought Olga Mihalovna when she began to understand her surroundings + again, and when the pain was over. + </p> + <p> + A bright summer day looked in at the widely open windows; in the garden + below the windows, the sparrows and the magpies never ceased chattering + for one instant. + </p> + <p> + The drawers were shut now, her husband’s bed had been made. There was no + sign of the midwife or of the maid, or of Varvara in the room, only Pyotr + Dmitritch was standing, as before, motionless by the window looking into + the garden. There was no sound of a child’s crying, no one was + congratulating her or rejoicing, it was evident that the little creature + had not been born alive. + </p> + <p> + “Pyotr!” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna called to her husband. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch looked round. It seemed as though a long time must have + passed since the last guest had departed and Olga Mihalovna had insulted + her husband, for Pyotr Dmitritch was perceptibly thinner and hollow-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked, coming up to the bed. + </p> + <p> + He looked away, moved his lips and smiled with childlike helplessness. + </p> + <p> + “Is it all over?” asked Olga Mihalovna. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch tried to make some answer, but his lips quivered and his + mouth worked like a toothless old man’s, like Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch’s. + </p> + <p> + “Olya,” he said, wringing his hands; big tears suddenly dropping from his + eyes. “Olya, I don’t care about your property qualification, nor the + Circuit Courts . . .” (he gave a sob) “nor particular views, nor those + visitors, nor your fortune. . . . I don’t care about anything! Why didn’t + we take care of our child? Oh, it’s no good talking!” + </p> + <p> + With a despairing gesture he went out of the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + But nothing mattered to Olga Mihalovna now, there was a mistiness in her + brain from the chloroform, an emptiness in her soul. . . . The dull + indifference to life which had overcome her when the two doctors were + performing the operation still had possession of her. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TERROR + </h2> + <h3> + My Friend’s Story + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>MITRI PETROVITCH + SILIN had taken his degree and entered the government service in + Petersburg, but at thirty he gave up his post and went in for agriculture. + His farming was fairly successful, and yet it always seemed to me that he + was not in his proper place, and that he would do well to go back to + Petersburg. When sunburnt, grey with dust, exhausted with toil, he met me + near the gates or at the entrance, and then at supper struggled with + sleepiness and his wife took him off to bed as though he were a baby; or + when, overcoming his sleepiness, he began in his soft, cordial, almost + imploring voice, to talk about his really excellent ideas, I saw him not + as a farmer nor an agriculturist, but only as a worried and exhausted man, + and it was clear to me that he did not really care for farming, but that + all he wanted was for the day to be over and “Thank God for it.” + </p> + <p> + I liked to be with him, and I used to stay on his farm for two or three + days at a time. I liked his house, and his park, and his big fruit garden, + and the river—and his philosophy, which was clear, though rather + spiritless and rhetorical. I suppose I was fond of him on his own account, + though I can’t say that for certain, as I have not up to now succeeded in + analysing my feelings at that time. He was an intelligent, kind-hearted, + genuine man, and not a bore, but I remember that when he confided to me + his most treasured secrets and spoke of our relation to each other as + friendship, it disturbed me unpleasantly, and I was conscious of + awkwardness. In his affection for me there was something inappropriate, + tiresome, and I should have greatly preferred commonplace friendly + relations. + </p> + <p> + The fact is that I was extremely attracted by his wife, Marya Sergeyevna. + I was not in love with her, but I was attracted by her face, her eyes, her + voice, her walk. I missed her when I did not see her for a long time, and + my imagination pictured no one at that time so eagerly as that young, + beautiful, elegant woman. I had no definite designs in regard to her, and + did not dream of anything of the sort, yet for some reason, whenever we + were left alone, I remembered that her husband looked upon me as his + friend, and I felt awkward. When she played my favourite pieces on the + piano or told me something interesting, I listened with pleasure, and yet + at the same time for some reason the reflection that she loved her + husband, that he was my friend, and that she herself looked upon me as his + friend, obtruded themselves upon me, my spirits flagged, and I became + listless, awkward, and dull. She noticed this change and would usually + say: + </p> + <p> + “You are dull without your friend. We must send out to the fields for + him.” + </p> + <p> + And when Dmitri Petrovitch came in, she would say: + </p> + <p> + “Well, here is your friend now. Rejoice.” + </p> + <p> + So passed a year and a half. + </p> + <p> + It somehow happened one July Sunday that Dmitri Petrovitch and I, having + nothing to do, drove to the big village of Klushino to buy things for + supper. While we were going from one shop to another the sun set and the + evening came on—the evening which I shall probably never forget in + my life. After buying cheese that smelt like soap, and petrified sausages + that smelt of tar, we went to the tavern to ask whether they had any beer. + Our coachman went off to the blacksmith to get our horses shod, and we + told him we would wait for him near the church. We walked, talked, laughed + over our purchases, while a man who was known in the district by a very + strange nickname, “Forty Martyrs,” followed us all the while in silence + with a mysterious air like a detective. This Forty Martyrs was no other + than Gavril Syeverov, or more simply Gavryushka, who had been for a short + time in my service as a footman and had been dismissed by me for + drunkenness. He had been in Dmitri Petrovitch’s service, too, and by him + had been dismissed for the same vice. He was an inveterate drunkard, and + indeed his whole life was as drunk and disorderly as himself. His father + had been a priest and his mother of noble rank, so by birth he belonged to + the privileged class; but however carefully I scrutinized his exhausted, + respectful, and always perspiring face, his red beard now turning grey, + his pitifully torn reefer jacket and his red shirt, I could not discover + in him the faintest trace of anything we associate with privilege. He + spoke of himself as a man of education, and used to say that he had been + in a clerical school, but had not finished his studies there, as he had + been expelled for smoking; then he had sung in the bishop’s choir and + lived for two years in a monastery, from which he was also expelled, but + this time not for smoking but for “his weakness.” He had walked all over + two provinces, had presented petitions to the Consistory, and to various + government offices, and had been four times on his trial. At last, being + stranded in our district, he had served as a footman, as a forester, as a + kennelman, as a sexton, had married a cook who was a widow and rather a + loose character, and had so hopelessly sunk into a menial position, and + had grown so used to filth and dirt, that he even spoke of his privileged + origin with a certain scepticism, as of some myth. At the time I am + describing, he was hanging about without a job, calling himself a carrier + and a huntsman, and his wife had disappeared and made no sign. + </p> + <p> + From the tavern we went to the church and sat in the porch, waiting for + the coachman. Forty Martyrs stood a little way off and put his hand before + his mouth in order to cough in it respectfully if need be. By now it was + dark; there was a strong smell of evening dampness, and the moon was on + the point of rising. There were only two clouds in the clear starry sky + exactly over our heads: one big one and one smaller; alone in the sky they + were racing after one another like mother and child, in the direction + where the sunset was glowing. + </p> + <p> + “What a glorious day!” said Dmitri Petrovitch. + </p> + <p> + “In the extreme . . .” Forty Martyrs assented, and he coughed respectfully + into his hand. “How was it, Dmitri Petrovitch, you thought to visit these + parts?” he asked in an ingratiating voice, evidently anxious to get up a + conversation. + </p> + <p> + Dmitri Petrovitch made no answer. Forty Martyrs heaved a deep sigh and + said softly, not looking at us: + </p> + <p> + “I suffer solely through a cause to which I must answer to Almighty God. + No doubt about it, I am a hopeless and incompetent man; but believe me, on + my conscience, I am without a crust of bread and worse off than a dog. . . + . Forgive me, Dmitri Petrovitch.” + </p> + <p> + Silin was not listening, but sat musing with his head propped on his + fists. The church stood at the end of the street on the high river-bank, + and through the trellis gate of the enclosure we could see the river, the + water-meadows on the near side of it, and the crimson glare of a camp fire + about which black figures of men and horses were moving. And beyond the + fire, further away, there were other lights, where there was a little + village. They were singing there. On the river, and here and there on the + meadows, a mist was rising. High narrow coils of mist, thick and white as + milk, were trailing over the river, hiding the reflection of the stars and + hovering over the willows. Every minute they changed their form, and it + seemed as though some were embracing, others were bowing, others lifting + up their arms to heaven with wide sleeves like priests, as though they + were praying. . . . Probably they reminded Dmitri Petrovitch of ghosts and + of the dead, for he turned facing me and asked with a mournful smile: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, my dear fellow, why is it that when we want to tell some + terrible, mysterious, and fantastic story, we draw our material, not from + life, but invariably from the world of ghosts and of the shadows beyond + the grave.” + </p> + <p> + “We are frightened of what we don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you understand life? Tell me: do you understand life better than + the world beyond the grave?” + </p> + <p> + Dmitri Petrovitch was sitting quite close to me, so that I felt his breath + upon my cheek. In the evening twilight his pale, lean face seemed paler + than ever and his dark beard was black as soot. His eyes were sad, + truthful, and a little frightened, as though he were about to tell me + something horrible. He looked into my eyes and went on in his habitual + imploring voice: + </p> + <p> + “Our life and the life beyond the grave are equally incomprehensible and + horrible. If any one is afraid of ghosts he ought to be afraid, too, of + me, and of those lights and of the sky, seeing that, if you come to + reflect, all that is no less fantastic and beyond our grasp than + apparitions from the other world. Prince Hamlet did not kill himself + because he was afraid of the visions that might haunt his dreams after + death. I like that famous soliloquy of his, but, to be candid, it never + touched my soul. I will confess to you as a friend that in moments of + depression I have sometimes pictured to myself the hour of my death. My + fancy invented thousands of the gloomiest visions, and I have succeeded in + working myself up to an agonizing exaltation, to a state of nightmare, and + I assure you that that did not seem to me more terrible than reality. What + I mean is, apparitions are terrible, but life is terrible, too. I don’t + understand life and I am afraid of it, my dear boy; I don’t know. Perhaps + I am a morbid person, unhinged. It seems to a sound, healthy man that he + understands everything he sees and hears, but that ‘seeming’ is lost to + me, and from day to day I am poisoning myself with terror. There is a + disease, the fear of open spaces, but my disease is the fear of life. When + I lie on the grass and watch a little beetle which was born yesterday and + understands nothing, it seems to me that its life consists of nothing else + but fear, and in it I see myself.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it exactly you are frightened of?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid of everything. I am not by nature a profound thinker, and I + take little interest in such questions as the life beyond the grave, the + destiny of humanity, and, in fact, I am rarely carried away to the + heights. What chiefly frightens me is the common routine of life from + which none of us can escape. I am incapable of distinguishing what is true + and what is false in my actions, and they worry me. I recognize that + education and the conditions of life have imprisoned me in a narrow circle + of falsity, that my whole life is nothing else than a daily effort to + deceive myself and other people, and to avoid noticing it; and I am + frightened at the thought that to the day of my death I shall not escape + from this falsity. To-day I do something and to-morrow I do not understand + why I did it. I entered the service in Petersburg and took fright; I came + here to work on the land, and here, too, I am frightened. . . . I see that + we know very little and so make mistakes every day. We are unjust, we + slander one another and spoil each other’s lives, we waste all our powers + on trash which we do not need and which hinders us from living; and that + frightens me, because I don’t understand why and for whom it is necessary. + I don’t understand men, my dear fellow, and I am afraid of them. It + frightens me to look at the peasants, and I don’t know for what higher + objects they are suffering and what they are living for. If life is an + enjoyment, then they are unnecessary, superfluous people; if the object + and meaning of life is to be found in poverty and unending, hopeless + ignorance, I can’t understand for whom and what this torture is necessary. + I understand no one and nothing. Kindly try to understand this specimen, + for instance,” said Dmitri Petrovitch, pointing to Forty Martyrs. “Think + of him!” + </p> + <p> + Noticing that we were looking at him, Forty Martyrs coughed deferentially + into his fist and said: + </p> + <p> + “I was always a faithful servant with good masters, but the great trouble + has been spirituous liquor. If a poor fellow like me were shown + consideration and given a place, I would kiss the ikon. My word’s my + bond.” + </p> + <p> + The sexton walked by, looked at us in amazement, and began pulling the + rope. The bell, abruptly breaking upon the stillness of the evening, + struck ten with a slow and prolonged note. + </p> + <p> + “It’s ten o’clock, though,” said Dmitri Petrovitch. “It’s time we were + going. Yes, my dear fellow,” he sighed, “if only you knew how afraid I am + of my ordinary everyday thoughts, in which one would have thought there + should be nothing dreadful. To prevent myself thinking I distract my mind + with work and try to tire myself out that I may sleep sound at night. + Children, a wife—all that seems ordinary with other people; but how + that weighs upon me, my dear fellow!” + </p> + <p> + He rubbed his face with his hands, cleared his throat, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “If I could only tell you how I have played the fool in my life!” he said. + “They all tell me that I have a sweet wife, charming children, and that I + am a good husband and father. They think I am very happy and envy me. But + since it has come to that, I will tell you in secret: my happy family life + is only a grievous misunderstanding, and I am afraid of it.” His pale face + was distorted by a wry smile. He put his arm round my waist and went on in + an undertone: + </p> + <p> + “You are my true friend; I believe in you and have a deep respect for you. + Heaven gave us friendship that we may open our hearts and escape from the + secrets that weigh upon us. Let me take advantage of your friendly feeling + for me and tell you the whole truth. My home life, which seems to you so + enchanting, is my chief misery and my chief terror. I got married in a + strange and stupid way. I must tell you that I was madly in love with + Masha before I married her, and was courting her for two years. I asked + her to marry me five times, and she refused me because she did not care + for me in the least. The sixth, when burning with passion I crawled on my + knees before her and implored her to take a beggar and marry me, she + consented. . . . What she said to me was: ‘I don’t love you, but I will be + true to you. . . .’ I accepted that condition with rapture. At the time I + understood what that meant, but I swear to God I don’t understand it now. + ‘I don’t love you, but I will be true to you.’ What does that mean? It’s a + fog, a darkness. I love her now as intensely as I did the day we were + married, while she, I believe, is as indifferent as ever, and I believe + she is glad when I go away from home. I don’t know for certain whether she + cares for me or not —I don’t know, I don’t know; but, as you see, we + live under the same roof, call each other ‘thou,’ sleep together, have + children, our property is in common. . . . What does it mean, what does it + mean? What is the object of it? And do you understand it at all, my dear + fellow? It’s cruel torture! Because I don’t understand our relations, I + hate, sometimes her, sometimes myself, sometimes both at once. Everything + is in a tangle in my brain; I torment myself and grow stupid. And as + though to spite me, she grows more beautiful every day, she is getting + more wonderful. . . I fancy her hair is marvellous, and her smile is like + no other woman’s. I love her, and I know that my love is hopeless. + Hopeless love for a woman by whom one has two children! Is that + intelligible? And isn’t it terrible? Isn’t it more terrible than ghosts?” + </p> + <p> + He was in the mood to have talked on a good deal longer, but luckily we + heard the coachman’s voice. Our horses had arrived. We got into the + carriage, and Forty Martyrs, taking off his cap, helped us both into the + carriage with an expression that suggested that he had long been waiting + for an opportunity to come in contact with our precious persons. + </p> + <p> + “Dmitri Petrovitch, let me come to you,” he said, blinking furiously and + tilting his head on one side. “Show divine mercy! I am dying of hunger!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Silin. “Come, you shall stay three days, and then we + shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” said Forty Martyrs, overjoyed. “I’ll come today, sir.” + </p> + <p> + It was a five miles’ drive home. Dmitri Petrovitch, glad that he had at + last opened his heart to his friend, kept his arm round my waist all the + way; and speaking now, not with bitterness and not with apprehension, but + quite cheerfully, told me that if everything had been satisfactory in his + home life, he should have returned to Petersburg and taken up scientific + work there. The movement which had driven so many gifted young men into + the country was, he said, a deplorable movement. We had plenty of rye and + wheat in Russia, but absolutely no cultured people. The strong and gifted + among the young ought to take up science, art, and politics; to act + otherwise meant being wasteful. He generalized with pleasure and expressed + regret that he would be parting from me early next morning, as he had to + go to a sale of timber. + </p> + <p> + And I felt awkward and depressed, and it seemed to me that I was deceiving + the man. And at the same time it was pleasant to me. I gazed at the + immense crimson moon which was rising, and pictured the tall, graceful, + fair woman, with her pale face, always well-dressed and fragrant with some + special scent, rather like musk, and for some reason it pleased me to + think she did not love her husband. + </p> + <p> + On reaching home, we sat down to supper. Marya Sergeyevna, laughing, + regaled us with our purchases, and I thought that she certainly had + wonderful hair and that her smile was unlike any other woman’s. I watched + her, and I wanted to detect in every look and movement that she did not + love her husband, and I fancied that I did see it. + </p> + <p> + Dmitri Petrovitch was soon struggling with sleep. After supper he sat with + us for ten minutes and said: + </p> + <p> + “Do as you please, my friends, but I have to be up at three o’clock + tomorrow morning. Excuse my leaving you.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed his wife tenderly, pressed my hand with warmth and gratitude, + and made me promise that I would certainly come the following week. That + he might not oversleep next morning, he went to spend the night in the + lodge. + </p> + <p> + Marya Sergeyevna always sat up late, in the Petersburg fashion, and for + some reason on this occasion I was glad of it. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” I began when we were left alone, “and now you’ll be kind and + play me something.” + </p> + <p> + I felt no desire for music, but I did not know how to begin the + conversation. She sat down to the piano and played, I don’t remember what. + I sat down beside her and looked at her plump white hands and tried to + read something on her cold, indifferent face. Then she smiled at something + and looked at me. + </p> + <p> + “You are dull without your friend,” she said. + </p> + <p> + I laughed. + </p> + <p> + “It would be enough for friendship to be here once a month, but I turn up + oftener than once a week.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, I got up and walked from one end of the room to the other. + She too got up and walked away to the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean to say by that?” she said, raising her large, clear eyes + and looking at me. + </p> + <p> + I made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “What you say is not true,” she went on, after a moment’s thought. “You + only come here on account of Dmitri Petrovitch. Well, I am very glad. One + does not often see such friendships nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” I thought, and, not knowing what to say, I asked: “Would you care + for a turn in the garden?” + </p> + <p> + I went out upon the verandah. Nervous shudders were running over my head + and I felt chilly with excitement. I was convinced now that our + conversation would be utterly trivial, and that there was nothing + particular we should be able to say to one another, but that, that night, + what I did not dare to dream of was bound to happen—that it was + bound to be that night or never. + </p> + <p> + “What lovely weather!” I said aloud. + </p> + <p> + “It makes absolutely no difference to me,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + I went into the drawing-room. Marya Sergeyevna was standing, as before, + near the fireplace, with her hands behind her back, looking away and + thinking of something. + </p> + <p> + “Why does it make no difference to you?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am bored. You are only bored without your friend, but I am + always bored. However . . . that is of no interest to you.” + </p> + <p> + I sat down to the piano and struck a few chords, waiting to hear what she + would say. + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t stand on ceremony,” she said, looking angrily at me, and she + seemed as though on the point of crying with vexation. “If you are sleepy, + go to bed. Because you are Dmitri Petrovitch’s friend, you are not in duty + bound to be bored with his wife’s company. I don’t want a sacrifice. + Please go.” + </p> + <p> + I did not, of course, go to bed. She went out on the verandah while I + remained in the drawing-room and spent five minutes turning over the + music. Then I went out, too. We stood close together in the shadow of the + curtains, and below us were the steps bathed in moonlight. The black + shadows of the trees stretched across the flower beds and the yellow sand + of the paths. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to go away tomorrow, too,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if my husband’s not at home you can’t stay here,” she said + sarcastically. “I can imagine how miserable you would be if you were in + love with me! Wait a bit: one day I shall throw myself on your neck. . . . + I shall see with what horror you will run away from me. That would be + interesting.” + </p> + <p> + Her words and her pale face were angry, but her eyes were full of tender + passionate love. I already looked upon this lovely creature as my + property, and then for the first time I noticed that she had golden + eyebrows, exquisite eyebrows. I had never seen such eyebrows before. The + thought that I might at once press her to my heart, caress her, touch her + wonderful hair, seemed to me such a miracle that I laughed and shut my + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It’s bed-time now. . . . A peaceful night,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want a peaceful night,” I said, laughing, following her into the + drawing-room. “I shall curse this night if it is a peaceful one.” + </p> + <p> + Pressing her hand, and escorting her to the door, I saw by her face that + she understood me, and was glad that I understood her, too. + </p> + <p> + I went to my room. Near the books on the table lay Dmitri Petrovitch’s + cap, and that reminded me of his affection for me. I took my stick and + went out into the garden. The mist had risen here, too, and the same tall, + narrow, ghostly shapes which I had seen earlier on the river were trailing + round the trees and bushes and wrapping about them. What a pity I could + not talk to them! + </p> + <p> + In the extraordinarily transparent air, each leaf, each drop of dew stood + out distinctly; it was all smiling at me in the stillness half asleep, and + as I passed the green seats I recalled the words in some play of + Shakespeare’s: “How sweetly falls the moonlight on yon seat!” + </p> + <p> + There was a mound in the garden; I went up it and sat down. I was + tormented by a delicious feeling. I knew for certain that in a moment I + should hold in my arms, should press to my heart her magnificent body, + should kiss her golden eyebrows; and I wanted to disbelieve it, to + tantalize myself, and was sorry that she had cost me so little trouble and + had yielded so soon. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly I heard heavy footsteps. A man of medium height appeared in + the avenue, and I recognized him at once as Forty Martyrs. He sat down on + the bench and heaved a deep sigh, then crossed himself three times and lay + down. A minute later he got up and lay on the other side. The gnats and + the dampness of the night prevented his sleeping. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, life!” he said. “Wretched, bitter life!” + </p> + <p> + Looking at his bent, wasted body and hearing his heavy, noisy sighs, I + thought of an unhappy, bitter life of which the confession had been made + to me that day, and I felt uneasy and frightened at my blissful mood. I + came down the knoll and went to the house. + </p> + <p> + “Life, as he thinks, is terrible,” I thought, “so don’t stand on ceremony + with it, bend it to your will, and until it crushes you, snatch all you + can wring from it.” + </p> + <p> + Marya Sergeyevna was standing on the verandah. I put my arms round her + without a word, and began greedily kissing her eyebrows, her temples, her + neck. . . . + </p> + <p> + In my room she told me she had loved me for a long time, more than a year. + She vowed eternal love, cried and begged me to take her away with me. I + repeatedly took her to the window to look at her face in the moonlight, + and she seemed to me a lovely dream, and I made haste to hold her tight to + convince myself of the truth of it. It was long since I had known such + raptures. . . . Yet somewhere far away at the bottom of my heart I felt an + awkwardness, and I was ill at ease. In her love for me there was something + incongruous and burdensome, just as in Dmitri Petrovitch’s friendship. It + was a great, serious passion with tears and vows, and I wanted nothing + serious in it—no tears, no vows, no talk of the future. Let that + moonlight night flash through our lives like a meteor and—<i>basta!</i> + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock she went out of my room, and, while I was standing in the + doorway, looking after her, at the end of the corridor Dmitri Petrovitch + suddenly made his appearance; she started and stood aside to let him pass, + and her whole figure was expressive of repulsion. He gave a strange smile, + coughed, and came into my room. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot my cap here yesterday,” he said without looking at me. + </p> + <p> + He found it and, holding it in both hands, put it on his head; then he + looked at my confused face, at my slippers, and said in a strange, husky + voice unlike his own: + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it must be my fate that I should understand nothing. . . . If + you understand anything, I congratulate you. It’s all darkness before my + eyes.” + </p> + <p> + And he went out, clearing his throat. Afterwards from the window I saw him + by the stable, harnessing the horses with his own hands. His hands were + trembling, he was in nervous haste and kept looking round at the house; + probably he was feeling terror. Then he got into the gig, and, with a + strange expression as though afraid of being pursued, lashed the horses. + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterwards I set off, too. The sun was already rising, and the + mist of the previous day clung timidly to the bushes and the hillocks. On + the box of the carriage was sitting Forty Martyrs; he had already + succeeded in getting drunk and was muttering tipsy nonsense. + </p> + <p> + “I am a free man,” he shouted to the horses. “Ah, my honeys, I am a + nobleman in my own right, if you care to know!” + </p> + <p> + The terror of Dmitri Petrovitch, the thought of whom I could not get out + of my head, infected me. I thought of what had happened and could make + nothing of it. I looked at the rooks, and it seemed so strange and + terrible that they were flying. + </p> + <p> + “Why have I done this?” I kept asking myself in bewilderment and despair. + “Why has it turned out like this and not differently? To whom and for what + was it necessary that she should love me in earnest, and that he should + come into my room to fetch his cap? What had a cap to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + I set off for Petersburg that day, and I have not seen Dmitri Petrovitch + nor his wife since. I am told that they are still living together. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A WOMAN’S KINGDOM + </h2> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>hristmas Eve + </p> + <p> + HERE was a thick roll of notes. It came from the bailiff at the forest + villa; he wrote that he was sending fifteen hundred roubles, which he had + been awarded as damages, having won an appeal. Anna Akimovna disliked and + feared such words as “awarded damages” and “won the suit.” She knew that + it was impossible to do without the law, but for some reason, whenever + Nazaritch, the manager of the factory, or the bailiff of her villa in the + country, both of whom frequently went to law, used to win lawsuits of some + sort for her benefit, she always felt uneasy and, as it were, ashamed. On + this occasion, too, she felt uneasy and awkward, and wanted to put that + fifteen hundred roubles further away that it might be out of her sight. + </p> + <p> + She thought with vexation that other girls of her age—she was in her + twenty-sixth year—were now busy looking after their households, were + weary and would sleep sound, and would wake up tomorrow morning in holiday + mood; many of them had long been married and had children. Only she, for + some reason, was compelled to sit like an old woman over these letters, to + make notes upon them, to write answers, then to do nothing the whole + evening till midnight, but wait till she was sleepy; and tomorrow they + would all day long be coming with Christmas greetings and asking for + favours; and the day after tomorrow there would certainly be some scandal + at the factory—some one would be beaten or would die of drinking too + much vodka, and she would be fretted by pangs of conscience; and after the + holidays Nazaritch would turn off some twenty of the workpeople for + absence from work, and all of the twenty would hang about at the front + door, without their caps on, and she would be ashamed to go out to them, + and they would be driven away like dogs. And all her acquaintances would + say behind her back, and write to her in anonymous letters, that she was a + millionaire and exploiter —that she was devouring other men’s lives + and sucking the blood of the workers. + </p> + <p> + Here there lay a heap of letters read through and laid aside already. They + were all begging letters. They were from people who were hungry, drunken, + dragged down by large families, sick, degraded, despised . . . . Anna + Akimovna had already noted on each letter, three roubles to be paid to + one, five to another; these letters would go the same day to the office, + and next the distribution of assistance would take place, or, as the + clerks used to say, the beasts would be fed. + </p> + <p> + They would distribute also in small sums four hundred and seventy roubles—the + interest on a sum bequeathed by the late Akim Ivanovitch for the relief of + the poor and needy. There would be a hideous crush. From the gates to the + doors of the office there would stretch a long file of strange people with + brutal faces, in rags, numb with cold, hungry and already drunk, in husky + voices calling down blessings upon Anna Akimovna, their benefactress, and + her parents: those at the back would press upon those in front, and those + in front would abuse them with bad language. The clerk would get tired of + the noise, the swearing, and the sing-song whining and blessing; would fly + out and give some one a box on the ear to the delight of all. And her own + people, the factory hands, who received nothing at Christmas but their + wages, and had already spent every farthing of it, would stand in the + middle of the yard, looking on and laughing—some enviously, others + ironically. + </p> + <p> + “Merchants, and still more their wives, are fonder of beggars than they + are of their own workpeople,” thought Anna Akimovna. “It’s always so.” + </p> + <p> + Her eye fell upon the roll of money. It would be nice to distribute that + hateful, useless money among the workpeople tomorrow, but it did not do to + give the workpeople anything for nothing, or they would demand it again + next time. And what would be the good of fifteen hundred roubles when + there were eighteen hundred workmen in the factory besides their wives and + children? Or she might, perhaps, pick out one of the writers of those + begging letters— some luckless man who had long ago lost all hope of + anything better, and give him the fifteen hundred. The money would come + upon the poor creature like a thunder-clap, and perhaps for the first time + in his life he would feel happy. This idea struck Anna Akimovna as + original and amusing, and it fascinated her. She took one letter at random + out of the pile and read it. Some petty official called Tchalikov had long + been out of a situation, was ill, and living in Gushtchin’s Buildings; his + wife was in consumption, and he had five little girls. Anna Akimovna knew + well the four-storeyed house, Gushtchin’s Buildings, in which Tchalikov + lived. Oh, it was a horrid, foul, unhealthy house! + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will give it to that Tchalikov,” she decided. “I won’t send it; I + had better take it myself to prevent unnecessary talk. Yes,” she + reflected, as she put the fifteen hundred roubles in her pocket, “and I’ll + have a look at them, and perhaps I can do something for the little girls.” + </p> + <p> + She felt light-hearted; she rang the bell and ordered the horses to be + brought round. + </p> + <p> + When she got into the sledge it was past six o’clock in the evening. The + windows in all the blocks of buildings were brightly lighted up, and that + made the huge courtyard seem very dark: at the gates, and at the far end + of the yard near the warehouses and the workpeople’s barracks, electric + lamps were gleaming. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna disliked and feared those huge dark buildings, warehouses, + and barracks where the workmen lived. She had only once been in the main + building since her father’s death. The high ceilings with iron girders; + the multitude of huge, rapidly turning wheels, connecting straps and + levers; the shrill hissing; the clank of steel; the rattle of the + trolleys; the harsh puffing of steam; the faces—pale, crimson, or + black with coal-dust; the shirts soaked with sweat; the gleam of steel, of + copper, and of fire; the smell of oil and coal; and the draught, at times + very hot and at times very cold—gave her an impression of hell. It + seemed to her as though the wheels, the levers, and the hot hissing + cylinders were trying to tear themselves away from their fastenings to + crush the men, while the men, not hearing one another, ran about with + anxious faces, and busied themselves about the machines, trying to stop + their terrible movement. They showed Anna Akimovna something and + respectfully explained it to her. She remembered how in the forge a piece + of red-hot iron was pulled out of the furnace; and how an old man with a + strap round his head, and another, a young man in a blue shirt with a + chain on his breast, and an angry face, probably one of the foremen, + struck the piece of iron with hammers; and how the golden sparks had been + scattered in all directions; and how, a little afterwards, they had + dragged out a huge piece of sheet-iron with a clang. The old man had stood + erect and smiled, while the young man had wiped his face with his sleeve + and explained something to her. And she remembered, too, how in another + department an old man with one eye had been filing a piece of iron, and + how the iron filings were scattered about; and how a red-haired man in + black spectacles, with holes in his shirt, had been working at a lathe, + making something out of a piece of steel: the lathe roared and hissed and + squeaked, and Anna Akimovna felt sick at the sound, and it seemed as + though they were boring into her ears. She looked, listened, did not + understand, smiled graciously, and felt ashamed. To get hundreds of + thousands of roubles from a business which one does not understand and + cannot like—how strange it is! + </p> + <p> + And she had not once been in the workpeople’s barracks. There, she was + told, it was damp; there were bugs, debauchery, anarchy. It was an + astonishing thing: a thousand roubles were spent annually on keeping the + barracks in good order, yet, if she were to believe the anonymous letters, + the condition of the workpeople was growing worse and worse every year. + </p> + <p> + “There was more order in my father’s day,” thought Anna Akimovna, as she + drove out of the yard, “because he had been a workman himself. I know + nothing about it and only do silly things.” + </p> + <p> + She felt depressed again, and was no longer glad that she had come, and + the thought of the lucky man upon whom fifteen hundred roubles would drop + from heaven no longer struck her as original and amusing. To go to some + Tchalikov or other, when at home a business worth a million was gradually + going to pieces and being ruined, and the workpeople in the barracks were + living worse than convicts, meant doing something silly and cheating her + conscience. Along the highroad and across the fields near it, workpeople + from the neighbouring cotton and paper factories were walking towards the + lights of the town. There was the sound of talk and laughter in the frosty + air. Anna Akimovna looked at the women and young people, and she suddenly + felt a longing for a plain rough life among a crowd. She recalled vividly + that far-away time when she used to be called Anyutka, when she was a + little girl and used to lie under the same quilt with her mother, while a + washerwoman who lodged with them used to wash clothes in the next room; + while through the thin walls there came from the neighbouring flats sounds + of laughter, swearing, children’s crying, the accordion, and the whirr of + carpenters’ lathes and sewing-machines; while her father, Akim Ivanovitch, + who was clever at almost every craft, would be soldering something near + the stove, or drawing or planing, taking no notice whatever of the noise + and stuffiness. And she longed to wash, to iron, to run to the shop and + the tavern as she used to do every day when she lived with her mother. She + ought to have been a work-girl and not the factory owner! Her big house + with its chandeliers and pictures; her footman Mishenka, with his glossy + moustache and swallowtail coat; the devout and dignified Varvarushka, and + smooth-tongued Agafyushka; and the young people of both sexes who came + almost every day to ask her for money, and with whom she always for some + reason felt guilty; and the clerks, the doctors, and the ladies who were + charitable at her expense, who flattered her and secretly despised her for + her humble origin— how wearisome and alien it all was to her! + </p> + <p> + Here was the railway crossing and the city gate; then came houses + alternating with kitchen gardens; and at last the broad street where stood + the renowned Gushtchin’s Buildings. The street, usually quiet, was now on + Christmas Eve full of life and movement. The eating-houses and beer-shops + were noisy. If some one who did not belong to that quarter but lived in + the centre of the town had driven through the street now, he would have + noticed nothing but dirty, drunken, and abusive people; but Anna Akimovna, + who had lived in those parts all her life, was constantly recognizing in + the crowd her own father or mother or uncle. Her father was a soft fluid + character, a little fantastical, frivolous, and irresponsible. He did not + care for money, respectability, or power; he used to say that a working + man had no time to keep the holy-days and go to church; and if it had not + been for his wife, he would probably never have gone to confession, taken + the sacrament or kept the fasts. While her uncle, Ivan Ivanovitch, on the + contrary, was like flint; in everything relating to religion, politics, + and morality, he was harsh and relentless, and kept a strict watch, not + only over himself, but also over all his servants and acquaintances. God + forbid that one should go into his room without crossing oneself before + the ikon! The luxurious mansion in which Anna Akimovna now lived he had + always kept locked up, and only opened it on great holidays for important + visitors, while he lived himself in the office, in a little room covered + with ikons. He had leanings towards the Old Believers, and was continually + entertaining priests and bishops of the old ritual, though he had been + christened, and married, and had buried his wife in accordance with the + Orthodox rites. He disliked Akim, his only brother and his heir, for his + frivolity, which he called simpleness and folly, and for his indifference + to religion. He treated him as an inferior, kept him in the position of a + workman, paid him sixteen roubles a month. Akim addressed his brother with + formal respect, and on the days of asking forgiveness, he and his wife and + daughter bowed down to the ground before him. But three years before his + death Ivan Ivanovitch had drawn closer to his brother, forgave his + shortcomings, and ordered him to get a governess for Anyutka. + </p> + <p> + There was a dark, deep, evil-smelling archway under Gushtchin’s Buildings; + there was a sound of men coughing near the walls. Leaving the sledge in + the street, Anna Akimovna went in at the gate and there inquired how to + get to No. 46 to see a clerk called Tchalikov. She was directed to the + furthest door on the right in the third story. And in the courtyard and + near the outer door, and even on the stairs, there was still the same + loathsome smell as under the archway. In Anna Akimovna’s childhood, when + her father was a simple workman, she used to live in a building like that, + and afterwards, when their circumstances were different, she had often + visited them in the character of a Lady Bountiful. The narrow stone + staircase with its steep dirty steps, with landings at every story; the + greasy swinging lanterns; the stench; the troughs, pots, and rags on the + landings near the doors,—all this had been familiar to her long ago. + . . . One door was open, and within could be seen Jewish tailors in caps, + sewing. Anna Akimovna met people on the stairs, but it never entered her + head that people might be rude to her. She was no more afraid of peasants + or workpeople, drunk or sober, than of her acquaintances of the educated + class. + </p> + <p> + There was no entry at No. 46; the door opened straight into the kitchen. + As a rule the dwellings of workmen and mechanics smell of varnish, tar, + hides, smoke, according to the occupation of the tenant; the dwellings of + persons of noble or official class who have come to poverty may be known + by a peculiar rancid, sour smell. This disgusting smell enveloped Anna + Akimovna on all sides, and as yet she was only on the threshold. A man in + a black coat, no doubt Tchalikov himself, was sitting in a corner at the + table with his back to the door, and with him were five little girls. The + eldest, a broad-faced thin girl with a comb in her hair, looked about + fifteen, while the youngest, a chubby child with hair that stood up like a + hedge-hog, was not more than three. All the six were eating. Near the + stove stood a very thin little woman with a yellow face, far gone in + pregnancy. She was wearing a skirt and a white blouse, and had an oven + fork in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect you to be so disobedient, Liza,” the man was saying + reproachfully. “Fie, fie, for shame! Do you want papa to whip you—eh?” + </p> + <p> + Seeing an unknown lady in the doorway, the thin woman started, and put + down the fork. + </p> + <p> + “Vassily Nikititch!” she cried, after a pause, in a hollow voice, as + though she could not believe her eyes. + </p> + <p> + The man looked round and jumped up. He was a flat-chested, bony man with + narrow shoulders and sunken temples. His eyes were small and hollow with + dark rings round them, he had a wide mouth, and a long nose like a bird’s + beak—a little bit bent to the right. His beard was parted in the + middle, his moustache was shaven, and this made him look more like a hired + footman than a government clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Does Mr. Tchalikov live here?” asked Anna Akimovna. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam,” Tchalikov answered severely, but immediately recognizing + Anna Akimovna, he cried: “Anna Akimovna!” and all at once he gasped and + clasped his hands as though in terrible alarm. “Benefactress!” + </p> + <p> + With a moan he ran to her, grunting inarticulately as though he were + paralyzed—there was cabbage on his beard and he smelt of vodka—pressed + his forehead to her muff, and seemed as though he were in a swoon. + </p> + <p> + “Your hand, your holy hand!” he brought out breathlessly. “It’s a dream, a + glorious dream! Children, awaken me!” + </p> + <p> + He turned towards the table and said in a sobbing voice, shaking his + fists: + </p> + <p> + “Providence has heard us! Our saviour, our angel, has come! We are saved! + Children, down on your knees! on your knees!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Tchalikov and the little girls, except the youngest one, began for + some reason rapidly clearing the table. + </p> + <p> + “You wrote that your wife was very ill,” said Anna Akimovna, and she felt + ashamed and annoyed. “I am not going to give them the fifteen hundred,” + she thought. + </p> + <p> + “Here she is, my wife,” said Tchalikov in a thin feminine voice, as though + his tears had gone to his head. “Here she is, unhappy creature! With one + foot in the grave! But we do not complain, madam. Better death than such a + life. Better die, unhappy woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Why is he playing these antics?” thought Anna Akimovna with annoyance. + “One can see at once he is used to dealing with merchants.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak to me like a human being,” she said. “I don’t care for farces.‘’ + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam; five bereaved children round their mother’s coffin with + funeral candles—that’s a farce? Eh?” said Tchalikov bitterly, and + turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue,” whispered his wife, and she pulled at his sleeve. “The + place has not been tidied up, madam,” she said, addressing Anna Akimovna; + “please excuse it . . . you know what it is where there are children. A + crowded hearth, but harmony.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to give them the fifteen hundred,” Anna Akimovna thought + again. + </p> + <p> + And to escape as soon as possible from these people and from the sour + smell, she brought out her purse and made up her mind to leave them + twenty-five roubles, not more; but she suddenly felt ashamed that she had + come so far and disturbed people for so little. + </p> + <p> + “If you give me paper and ink, I will write at once to a doctor who is a + friend of mine to come and see you,” she said, flushing red. “He is a very + good doctor. And I will leave you some money for medicine.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Tchalikov was hastening to wipe the table. + </p> + <p> + “It’s messy here! What are you doing?” hissed Tchalikov, looking at her + wrathfully. “Take her to the lodger’s room! I make bold to ask you, madam, + to step into the lodger’s room,” he said, addressing Anna Akimovna. “It’s + clean there.” + </p> + <p> + “Osip Ilyitch told us not to go into his room!” said one of the little + girls, sternly. + </p> + <p> + But they had already led Anna Akimovna out of the kitchen, through a + narrow passage room between two bedsteads: it was evident from the + arrangement of the beds that in one two slept lengthwise, and in the other + three slept across the bed. In the lodger’s room, that came next, it + really was clean. A neat-looking bed with a red woollen quilt, a pillow in + a white pillow-case, even a slipper for the watch, a table covered with a + hempen cloth and on it, an inkstand of milky-looking glass, pens, paper, + photographs in frames— everything as it ought to be; and another + table for rough work, on which lay tidily arranged a watchmaker’s tools + and watches taken to pieces. On the walls hung hammers, pliers, awls, + chisels, nippers, and so on, and there were three hanging clocks which + were ticking; one was a big clock with thick weights, such as one sees in + eating-houses. + </p> + <p> + As she sat down to write the letter, Anna Akimovna saw facing her on the + table the photographs of her father and of herself. That surprised her. + </p> + <p> + “Who lives here with you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Our lodger, madam, Pimenov. He works in your factory.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I thought he must be a watchmaker.” + </p> + <p> + “He repairs watches privately, in his leisure hours. He is an amateur.” + </p> + <p> + After a brief silence during which nothing could be heard but the ticking + of the clocks and the scratching of the pen on the paper, Tchalikov heaved + a sigh and said ironically, with indignation: + </p> + <p> + “It’s a true saying: gentle birth and a grade in the service won’t put a + coat on your back. A cockade in your cap and a noble title, but nothing to + eat. To my thinking, if any one of humble class helps the poor he is much + more of a gentleman than any Tchalikov who has sunk into poverty and + vice.” + </p> + <p> + To flatter Anna Akimovna, he uttered a few more disparaging phrases about + his gentle birth, and it was evident that he was humbling himself because + he considered himself superior to her. Meanwhile she had finished her + letter and had sealed it up. The letter would be thrown away and the money + would not be spent on medicine—that she knew, but she put + twenty-five roubles on the table all the same, and after a moment’s + thought, added two more red notes. She saw the wasted, yellow hand of + Madame Tchalikov, like the claw of a hen, dart out and clutch the money + tight. + </p> + <p> + “You have graciously given this for medicine,” said Tchalikov in a + quivering voice, “but hold out a helping hand to me also . . . and the + children!” he added with a sob. “My unhappy children! I am not afraid for + myself; it is for my daughters I fear! It’s the hydra of vice that I + fear!” + </p> + <p> + Trying to open her purse, the catch of which had gone wrong, Anna Akimovna + was confused and turned red. She felt ashamed that people should be + standing before her, looking at her hands and waiting, and most likely at + the bottom of their hearts laughing at her. At that instant some one came + into the kitchen and stamped his feet, knocking the snow off. + </p> + <p> + “The lodger has come in,” said Madame Tchalikov. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna grew even more confused. She did not want any one from the + factory to find her in this ridiculous position. As ill-luck would have + it, the lodger came in at the very moment when, having broken the catch at + last, she was giving Tchalikov some notes, and Tchalikov, grunting as + though he were paraylzed, was feeling about with his lips where he could + kiss her. In the lodger she recognized the workman who had once clanked + the sheet-iron before her in the forge, and had explained things to her. + Evidently he had come in straight from the factory; his face looked dark + and grimy, and on one cheek near his nose was a smudge of soot. His hands + were perfectly black, and his unbelted shirt shone with oil and grease. He + was a man of thirty, of medium height, with black hair and broad + shoulders, and a look of great physical strength. At the first glance Anna + Akimovna perceived that he must be a foreman, who must be receiving at + least thirty-five roubles a month, and a stern, loud-voiced man who struck + the workmen in the face; all this was evident from his manner of standing, + from the attitude he involuntarily assumed at once on seeing a lady in his + room, and most of all from the fact that he did not wear top-boots, that + he had breast pockets, and a pointed, picturesquely clipped beard. Her + father, Akim Ivanovitch, had been the brother of the factory owner, and + yet he had been afraid of foremen like this lodger and had tried to win + their favour. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me for having come in here in your absence,” said Anna Akimovna. + </p> + <p> + The workman looked at her in surprise, smiled in confusion and did not + speak. + </p> + <p> + “You must speak a little louder, madam . . . .” said Tchalikov softly. + “When Mr. Pimenov comes home from the factory in the evenings he is a + little hard of hearing.” + </p> + <p> + But Anna Akimovna was by now relieved that there was nothing more for her + to do here; she nodded to them and went rapidly out of the room. Pimenov + went to see her out. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been long in our employment?” she asked in a loud voice, without + turning to him. + </p> + <p> + “From nine years old. I entered the factory in your uncle’s time.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a long while! My uncle and my father knew all the workpeople, and + I know hardly any of them. I had seen you before, but I did not know your + name was Pimenov.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna felt a desire to justify herself before him, to pretend that + she had just given the money not seriously, but as a joke. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this poverty,” she sighed. “We give charity on holidays and working + days, and still there is no sense in it. I believe it is useless to help + such people as this Tchalikov.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is useless,” he agreed. “However much you give him, he will + drink it all away. And now the husband and wife will be snatching it from + one another and fighting all night,” he added with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one must admit that our philanthropy is useless, boring, and absurd. + But still, you must agree, one can’t sit with one’s hand in one’s lap; one + must do something. What’s to be done with the Tchalikovs, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + She turned to Pimenov and stopped, expecting an answer from him; he, too, + stopped and slowly, without speaking, shrugged his shoulders. Obviously he + knew what to do with the Tchalikovs, but the treatment would have been so + coarse and inhuman that he did not venture to put it into words. And the + Tchalikovs were to him so utterly uninteresting and worthless, that a + moment later he had forgotten them; looking into Anna Akimovna’s eyes, he + smiled with pleasure, and his face wore an expression as though he were + dreaming about something very pleasant. Only, now standing close to him, + Anna Akimovna saw from his face, and especially from his eyes, how + exhausted and sleepy he was. + </p> + <p> + “Here, I ought to give him the fifteen hundred roubles!” she thought, but + for some reason this idea seemed to her incongruous and insulting to + Pimenov. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you are aching all over after your work, and you come to the + door with me,” she said as they went down the stairs. “Go home.” + </p> + <p> + But he did not catch her words. When they came out into the street, he ran + on ahead, unfastened the cover of the sledge, and helping Anna Akimovna + in, said: + </p> + <p> + “I wish you a happy Christmas!” + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>hristmas Morning + </p> + <p> + “They have left off ringing ever so long! It’s dreadful; you won’t be + there before the service is over! Get up!” + </p> + <p> + “Two horses are racing, racing . . .” said Anna Akimovna, and she woke up; + before her, candle in hand, stood her maid, red-haired Masha. “Well, what + is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Service is over already,” said Masha with despair. “I have called you + three times! Sleep till evening for me, but you told me yourself to call + you!” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna raised herself on her elbow and glanced towards the window. + It was still quite dark outside, and only the lower edge of the + window-frame was white with snow. She could hear a low, mellow chime of + bells; it was not the parish church, but somewhere further away. The watch + on the little table showed three minutes past six. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Masha. . . . In three minutes . . .” said Anna Akimovna in an + imploring voice, and she snuggled under the bed-clothes. + </p> + <p> + She imagined the snow at the front door, the sledge, the dark sky, the + crowd in the church, and the smell of juniper, and she felt dread at the + thought; but all the same, she made up her mind that she would get up at + once and go to early service. And while she was warm in bed and struggling + with sleep—which seems, as though to spite one, particularly sweet + when one ought to get up—and while she had visions of an immense + garden on a mountain and then Gushtchin’s Buildings, she was worried all + the time by the thought that she ought to get up that very minute and go + to church. + </p> + <p> + But when she got up it was quite light, and it turned out to be half-past + nine. There had been a heavy fall of snow in the night; the trees were + clothed in white, and the air was particularly light, transparent, and + tender, so that when Anna Akimovna looked out of the window her first + impulse was to draw a deep, deep breath. And when she had washed, a relic + of far-away childish feelings—joy that today was Christmas—suddenly + stirred within her; after that she felt light-hearted, free and pure in + soul, as though her soul, too, had been washed or plunged in the white + snow. Masha came in, dressed up and tightly laced, and wished her a happy + Christmas; then she spent a long time combing her mistress’s hair and + helping her to dress. The fragrance and feeling of the new, gorgeous, + splendid dress, its faint rustle, and the smell of fresh scent, excited + Anna Akimoyna. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s Christmas,” she said gaily to Masha. “Now we will try our + fortunes.” + </p> + <p> + “Last year, I was to marry an old man. It turned up three times the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, God is merciful.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Anna Akimovna, what I think is, rather than neither one thing nor + the other, I’d marry an old man,” said Masha mournfully, and she heaved a + sigh. “I am turned twenty; it’s no joke.” + </p> + <p> + Every one in the house knew that red-haired Masha was in love with + Mishenka, the footman, and this genuine, passionate, hopeless love had + already lasted three years. + </p> + <p> + “Come, don’t talk nonsense,” Anna Akimovna consoled her. “I am going on + for thirty, but I am still meaning to marry a young man.” + </p> + <p> + While his mistress was dressing, Mishenka, in a new swallow-tail and + polished boots, walked about the hall and drawing-room and waited for her + to come out, to wish her a happy Christmas. He had a peculiar walk, + stepping softly and delicately; looking at his feet, his hands, and the + bend of his head, it might be imagined that he was not simply walking, but + learning to dance the first figure of a quadrille. In spite of his fine + velvety moustache and handsome, rather flashy appearance, he was steady, + prudent, and devout as an old man. He said his prayers, bowing down to the + ground, and liked burning incense in his room. He respected people of + wealth and rank and had a reverence for them; he despised poor people, and + all who came to ask favours of any kind, with all the strength of his + cleanly flunkey soul. Under his starched shirt he wore a flannel, winter + and summer alike, being very careful of his health; his ears were plugged + with cotton-wool. + </p> + <p> + When Anna Akimovna crossed the hall with Masha, he bent his head downwards + a little and said in his agreeable, honeyed voice: + </p> + <p> + “I have the honour to congratulate you, Anna Akimovna, on the most solemn + feast of the birth of our Lord.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna gave him five roubles, while poor Masha was numb with + ecstasy. His holiday get-up, his attitude, his voice, and what he said, + impressed her by their beauty and elegance; as she followed her mistress + she could think of nothing, could see nothing, she could only smile, first + blissfully and then bitterly. The upper story of the house was called the + best or visitors’ half, while the name of the business part—old + people’s or simply women’s part —was given to the rooms on the lower + story where Aunt Tatyana Ivanovna kept house. In the upper part the gentry + and educated visitors were entertained; in the lower story, simpler folk + and the aunt’s personal friends. Handsome, plump, and healthy, still young + and fresh, and feeling she had on a magnificent dress which seemed to her + to diffuse a sort of radiance all about her, Anna Akimovna went down to + the lower story. Here she was met with reproaches for forgetting God now + that she was so highly educated, for sleeping too late for the service, + and for not coming downstairs to break the fast, and they all clasped + their hands and exclaimed with perfect sincerity that she was lovely, + wonderful; and she believed it, laughed, kissed them, gave one a rouble, + another three or five according to their position. She liked being + downstairs. Wherever one looked there were shrines, ikons, little lamps, + portraits of ecclesiastical personages—the place smelt of monks; + there was a rattle of knives in the kitchen, and already a smell of + something savoury, exceedingly appetizing, was pervading all the rooms. + The yellow-painted floors shone, and from the doors narrow rugs with + bright blue stripes ran like little paths to the ikon corner, and the + sunshine was simply pouring in at the windows. + </p> + <p> + In the dining-room some old women, strangers, were sitting; in + Varvarushka’s room, too, there were old women, and with them a deaf and + dumb girl, who seemed abashed about something and kept saying, “Bli, bli! + . . .” Two skinny-looking little girls who had been brought out of the + orphanage for Christmas came up to kiss Anna Akimovna’s hand, and stood + before her transfixed with admiration of her splendid dress; she noticed + that one of the girls squinted, and in the midst of her light-hearted + holiday mood she felt a sick pang at her heart at the thought that young + men would despise the girl, and that she would never marry. In the cook + Agafya’s room, five huge peasants in new shirts were sitting round the + samovar; these were not workmen from the factory, but relations of the + cook. Seeing Anna Akimovna, all the peasants jumped up from their seats, + and from regard for decorum, ceased munching, though their mouths were + full. The cook Stepan, in a white cap, with a knife in his hand, came into + the room and gave her his greetings; porters in high felt boots came in, + and they, too, offered their greetings. The water-carrier peeped in with + icicles on his beard, but did not venture to come in. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna walked through the rooms followed by her retinue— the + aunt, Varvarushka, Nikandrovna, the sewing-maid Marfa Petrovna, and the + downstairs Masha. Varvarushka—a tall, thin, slender woman, taller + than any one in the house, dressed all in black, smelling of cypress and + coffee—crossed herself in each room before the ikon, bowing down + from the waist. And whenever one looked at her one was reminded that she + had already prepared her shroud and that lottery tickets were hidden away + by her in the same box. + </p> + <p> + “Anyutinka, be merciful at Christmas,” she said, opening the door into the + kitchen. “Forgive him, bless the man! Have done with it!” + </p> + <p> + The coachman Panteley, who had been dismissed for drunkenness in November, + was on his knees in the middle of the kitchen. He was a good-natured man, + but he used to be unruly when he was drunk, and could not go to sleep, but + persisted in wandering about the buildings and shouting in a threatening + voice, “I know all about it!” Now from his beefy and bloated face and from + his bloodshot eyes it could be seen that he had been drinking continually + from November till Christmas. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Anna Akimovna,” he brought out in a hoarse voice, striking + his forehead on the floor and showing his bull-like neck. + </p> + <p> + “It was Auntie dismissed you; ask her.” + </p> + <p> + “What about auntie?” said her aunt, walking into the kitchen, breathing + heavily; she was very stout, and on her bosom one might have stood a tray + of teacups and a samovar. “What about auntie now? You are mistress here, + give your own orders; though these rascals might be all dead for all I + care. Come, get up, you hog!” she shouted at Panteley, losing patience. + “Get out of my sight! It’s the last time I forgive you, but if you + transgress again—don’t ask for mercy!” + </p> + <p> + Then they went into the dining-room to coffee. But they had hardly sat + down, when the downstairs Masha rushed headlong in, saying with horror, + “The singers!” And ran back again. They heard some one blowing his nose, a + low bass cough, and footsteps that sounded like horses’ iron-shod hoofs + tramping about the entry near the hall. For half a minute all was hushed. + . . . The singers burst out so suddenly and loudly that every one started. + While they were singing, the priest from the almshouses with the deacon + and the sexton arrived. Putting on the stole, the priest slowly said that + when they were ringing for matins it was snowing and not cold, but that + the frost was sharper towards morning, God bless it! and now there must be + twenty degrees of frost. + </p> + <p> + “Many people maintain, though, that winter is healthier than summer,” said + the deacon; then immediately assumed an austere expression and chanted + after the priest. “Thy Birth, O Christ our Lord. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Soon the priest from the workmen’s hospital came with the deacon, then the + Sisters from the hospital, children from the orphanage, and then singing + could be heard almost uninterruptedly. They sang, had lunch, and went + away. + </p> + <p> + About twenty men from the factory came to offer their Christmas greetings. + They were only the foremen, mechanicians, and their assistants, the + pattern-makers, the accountant, and so on—all of good appearance, in + new black coats. They were all first-rate men, as it were picked men; each + one knew his value—that is, knew that if he lost his berth today, + people would be glad to take him on at another factory. Evidently they + liked Auntie, as they behaved freely in her presence and even smoked, and + when they had all trooped in to have something to eat, the accountant put + his arm round her immense waist. They were free-and-easy, perhaps, partly + also because Varvarushka, who under the old masters had wielded great + power and had kept watch over the morals of the clerks, had now no + authority whatever in the house; and perhaps because many of them still + remembered the time when Auntie Tatyana Ivanovna, whose brothers kept a + strict hand over her, had been dressed like a simple peasant woman like + Agafya, and when Anna Akimovna used to run about the yard near the factory + buildings and every one used to call her Anyutya. + </p> + <p> + The foremen ate, talked, and kept looking with amazement at Anna Akimovna, + how she had grown up and how handsome she had become! But this elegant + girl, educated by governesses and teachers, was a stranger to them; they + could not understand her, and they instinctively kept closer to “Auntie,” + who called them by their names, continually pressed them to eat and drink, + and, clinking glasses with them, had already drunk two wineglasses of + rowanberry wine with them. Anna Akimovna was always afraid of their + thinking her proud, an upstart, or a crow in peacock’s feathers; and now + while the foremen were crowding round the food, she did not leave the + dining-room, but took part in the conversation. She asked Pimenov, her + acquaintance of the previous day: + </p> + <p> + “Why have you so many clocks in your room?” + </p> + <p> + “I mend clocks,” he answered. “I take the work up between times, on + holidays, or when I can’t sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “So if my watch goes wrong I can bring it to you to be repaired?” Anna + Akimovna asked, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, I will do it with pleasure,” said Pimenov, and there was an + expression of tender devotion in his face, when, not herself knowing why, + she unfastened her magnificent watch from its chain and handed it to him; + he looked at it in silence and gave it back. “To be sure, I will do it + with pleasure,” he repeated. “I don’t mend watches now. My eyes are weak, + and the doctors have forbidden me to do fine work. But for you I can make + an exception.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctors talk nonsense,” said the accountant. They all laughed. “Don’t you + believe them,” he went on, flattered by the laughing; “last year a tooth + flew out of a cylinder and hit old Kalmykov such a crack on the head that + you could see his brains, and the doctor said he would die; but he is + alive and working to this day, only he has taken to stammering since that + mishap.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctors do talk nonsense, they do, but not so much,” sighed Auntie. + “Pyotr Andreyitch, poor dear, lost his sight. Just like you, he used to + work day in day out at the factory near the hot furnace, and he went + blind. The eyes don’t like heat. But what are we talking about?” she said, + rousing herself. “Come and have a drink. My best wishes for Christmas, my + dears. I never drink with any one else, but I drink with you, sinful woman + as I am. Please God!” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna fancied that after yesterday Pimenov despised her as a + philanthropist, but was fascinated by her as a woman. She looked at him + and thought that he behaved very charmingly and was nicely dressed. It is + true that the sleeves of his coat were not quite long enough, and the coat + itself seemed short-waisted, and his trousers were not wide and + fashionable, but his tie was tied carelessly and with taste and was not as + gaudy as the others’. And he seemed to be a good-natured man, for he ate + submissively whatever Auntie put on his plate. She remembered how black he + had been the day before, and how sleepy, and the thought of it for some + reason touched her. + </p> + <p> + When the men were preparing to go, Anna Akimovna put out her hand to + Pimenov. She wanted to ask him to come in sometimes to see her, without + ceremony, but she did not know how to—her tongue would not obey her; + and that they might not think she was attracted by Pimenov, she shook + hands with his companions, too. + </p> + <p> + Then the boys from the school of which she was a patroness came. They all + had their heads closely cropped and all wore grey blouses of the same + pattern. The teacher—a tall, beardless young man with patches of red + on his face—was visibly agitated as he formed the boys into rows; + the boys sang in tune, but with harsh, disagreeable voices. The manager of + the factory, Nazaritch, a bald, sharp-eyed Old Believer, could never get + on with the teachers, but the one who was now anxiously waving his hands + he despised and hated, though he could not have said why. He behaved + rudely and condescendingly to the young man, kept back his salary, meddled + with the teaching, and had finally tried to dislodge him by appointing, a + fortnight before Christmas, as porter to the school a drunken peasant, a + distant relation of his wife’s, who disobeyed the teacher and said rude + things to him before the boys. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna was aware of all this, but she could be of no help, for she + was afraid of Nazaritch herself. Now she wanted at least to be very nice + to the schoolmaster, to tell him she was very much pleased with him; but + when after the singing he began apologizing for something in great + confusion, and Auntie began to address him familiarly as she drew him + without ceremony to the table, she felt, for some reason, bored and + awkward, and giving orders that the children should be given sweets, went + upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “In reality there is something cruel in these Christmas customs,” she said + a little while afterwards, as it were to herself, looking out of window at + the boys, who were flocking from the house to the gates and shivering with + cold, putting their coats on as they ran. “At Christmas one wants to rest, + to sit at home with one’s own people, and the poor boys, the teacher, and + the clerks and foremen, are obliged for some reason to go through the + frost, then to offer their greetings, show their respect, be put to + confusion . . .” + </p> + <p> + Mishenka, who was standing at the door of the drawing-room and overheard + this, said: + </p> + <p> + “It has not come from us, and it will not end with us. Of course, I am not + an educated man, Anna Akimovna, but I do understand that the poor must + always respect the rich. It is well said, ‘God marks the rogue.’ In + prisons, night refuges, and pot-houses you never see any but the poor, + while decent people, you may notice, are always rich. It has been said of + the rich, ‘Deep calls to deep.’” + </p> + <p> + “You always express yourself so tediously and incomprehensibly,” said Anna + Akimovna, and she walked to the other end of the big drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + It was only just past eleven. The stillness of the big room, only broken + by the singing that floated up from below, made her yawn. The bronzes, the + albums, and the pictures on the walls, representing a ship at sea, cows in + a meadow, and views of the Rhine, were so absolutely stale that her eyes + simply glided over them without observing them. The holiday mood was + already growing tedious. As before, Anna Akimovna felt that she was + beautiful, good-natured, and wonderful, but now it seemed to her that that + was of no use to any one; it seemed to her that she did not know for whom + and for what she had put on this expensive dress, too, and, as always + happened on all holidays, she began to be fretted by loneliness and the + persistent thought that her beauty, her health, and her wealth, were a + mere cheat, since she was not wanted, was of no use to any one, and nobody + loved her. She walked through all the rooms, humming and looking out of + window; stopping in the drawing-room, she could not resist beginning to + talk to Mishenka. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you think of yourself, Misha,” she said, and heaved a + sigh. “Really, God might punish you for it.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “You know what I mean. Excuse my meddling in your affairs. But it seems + you are spoiling your own life out of obstinacy. You’ll admit that it is + high time you got married, and she is an excellent and deserving girl. You + will never find any one better. She’s a beauty, clever, gentle, and + devoted. . . . And her appearance! . . . If she belonged to our circle or + a higher one, people would be falling in love with her for her red hair + alone. See how beautifully her hair goes with her complexion. Oh, + goodness! You don’t understand anything, and don’t know what you want,” + Anna Akimovna said bitterly, and tears came into her eyes. “Poor girl, I + am so sorry for her! I know you want a wife with money, but I have told + you already I will give Masha a dowry.” + </p> + <p> + Mishenka could not picture his future spouse in his imagination except as + a tall, plump, substantial, pious woman, stepping like a peacock, and, for + some reason, with a long shawl over her shoulders; while Masha was thin, + slender, tightly laced, and walked with little steps, and, worst of all, + she was too fascinating and at times extremely attractive to Mishenka, and + that, in his opinion, was incongruous with matrimony and only in keeping + with loose behaviour. When Anna Akimovna had promised to give Masha a + dowry, he had hesitated for a time; but once a poor student in a brown + overcoat over his uniform, coming with a letter for Anna Akimovna, was + fascinated by Masha, and could not resist embracing her near the + hat-stand, and she had uttered a faint shriek; Mishenka, standing on the + stairs above, had seen this, and from that time had begun to cherish a + feeling of disgust for Masha. A poor student! Who knows, if she had been + embraced by a rich student or an officer the consequences might have been + different. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you wish it?” Anna Akimovna asked. “What more do you want?” + </p> + <p> + Mishenka was silent and looked at the arm-chair fixedly, and raised his + eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love some one else?” + </p> + <p> + Silence. The red-haired Masha came in with letters and visiting cards on a + tray. Guessing that they were talking about her, she blushed to tears. + </p> + <p> + “The postmen have come,” she muttered. “And there is a clerk called + Tchalikov waiting below. He says you told him to come to-day for + something.” + </p> + <p> + “What insolence!” said Anna Akimovna, moved to anger. “I gave him no + orders. Tell him to take himself off; say I am not at home!” + </p> + <p> + A ring was heard. It was the priests from her parish. They were always + shown into the aristocratic part of the house—that is, upstairs. + After the priests, Nazaritch, the manager of the factory, came to pay his + visit, and then the factory doctor; then Mishenka announced the inspector + of the elementary schools. Visitors kept arriving. + </p> + <p> + When there was a moment free, Anna Akimovna sat down in a deep arm-chair + in the drawing-room, and shutting her eyes, thought that her loneliness + was quite natural because she had not married and never would marry. . . . + But that was not her fault. Fate itself had flung her out of the simple + working-class surroundings in which, if she could trust her memory, she + had felt so snug and at home, into these immense rooms, where she could + never think what to do with herself, and could not understand why so many + people kept passing before her eyes. What was happening now seemed to her + trivial, useless, since it did not and could not give her happiness for + one minute. + </p> + <p> + “If I could fall in love,” she thought, stretching; the very thought of + this sent a rush of warmth to her heart. “And if I could escape from the + factory . . .” she mused, imagining how the weight of those factory + buildings, barracks, and schools would roll off her conscience, roll off + her mind. . . . Then she remembered her father, and thought if he had + lived longer he would certainly have married her to a working man—to + Pimenov, for instance. He would have told her to marry, and that would + have been all about it. And it would have been a good thing; then the + factory would have passed into capable hands. + </p> + <p> + She pictured his curly head, his bold profile, his delicate, ironical lips + and the strength, the tremendous strength, in his shoulders, in his arms, + in his chest, and the tenderness with which he had looked at her watch + that day. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “it would have been all right. I would have married + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Anna Akimovna,” said Mishenka, coming noiselessly into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “How you frightened me!” she said, trembling all over. “What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Anna Akimovna,” he said, laying his hand on his heart and raising his + eyebrows, “you are my mistress and my benefactress, and no one but you can + tell me what I ought to do about marriage, for you are as good as a mother + to me. . . . But kindly forbid them to laugh and jeer at me downstairs. + They won’t let me pass without it.” + </p> + <p> + “How do they jeer at you?” + </p> + <p> + “They call me Mashenka’s Mishenka.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, what nonsense!” cried Anna Akimovna indignantly. “How stupid you + all are! What a stupid you are, Misha! How sick I am of you! I can’t bear + the sight of you.” + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>inner + </p> + <p> + Just as the year before, the last to pay her visits were Krylin, an actual + civil councillor, and Lysevitch, a well-known barrister. It was already + dark when they arrived. Krylin, a man of sixty, with a wide mouth and with + grey whiskers close to his ears, with a face like a lynx, was wearing a + uniform with an Anna ribbon, and white trousers. He held Anna Akimovna’s + hand in both of his for a long while, looked intently in her face, moved + his lips, and at last said, drawling upon one note: + </p> + <p> + “I used to respect your uncle . . . and your father, and enjoyed the + privilege of their friendship. Now I feel it an agreeable duty, as you + see, to present my Christmas wishes to their honoured heiress in spite of + my infirmities and the distance I have to come. . . . And I am very glad + to see you in good health.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer Lysevitch, a tall, handsome fair man, with a slight sprinkling + of grey on his temples and beard, was distinguished by exceptionally + elegant manners; he walked with a swaying step, bowed as it were + reluctantly, and shrugged his shoulders as he talked, and all this with an + indolent grace, like a spoiled horse fresh from the stable. He was well + fed, extremely healthy, and very well off; on one occasion he had won + forty thousand roubles, but concealed the fact from his friends. He was + fond of good fare, especially cheese, truffles, and grated radish with + hemp oil; while in Paris he had eaten, so he said, baked but unwashed + guts. He spoke smoothly, fluently, without hesitation, and only + occasionally, for the sake of effect, permitted himself to hesitate and + snap his fingers as if picking up a word. He had long ceased to believe in + anything he had to say in the law courts, or perhaps he did believe in it, + but attached no kind of significance to it; it had all so long been + familiar, stale, ordinary. . . . He believed in nothing but what was + original and unusual. A copy-book moral in an original form would move him + to tears. Both his notebooks were filled with extraordinary expressions + which he had read in various authors; and when he needed to look up any + expression, he would search nervously in both books, and usually failed to + find it. Anna Akimovna’s father had in a good-humoured moment + ostentatiously appointed him legal adviser in matters concerning the + factory, and had assigned him a salary of twelve thousand roubles. The + legal business of the factory had been confined to two or three trivial + actions for recovering debts, which Lysevitch handed to his assistants. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna knew that he had nothing to do at the factory, but she could + not dismiss him—she had not the moral courage; and besides, she was + used to him. He used to call himself her legal adviser, and his salary, + which he invariably sent for on the first of the month punctually, he used + to call “stern prose.” Anna Akimovna knew that when, after her father’s + death, the timber of her forest was sold for railway sleepers, Lysevitch + had made more than fifteen thousand out of the transaction, and had shared + it with Nazaritch. When first she found out they had cheated her she had + wept bitterly, but afterwards she had grown used to it. + </p> + <p> + Wishing her a happy Christmas, and kissing both her hands, he looked her + up and down, and frowned. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t,” he said with genuine disappointment. “I have told you, my + dear, you mustn’t!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Viktor Nikolaitch?” + </p> + <p> + “I have told you you mustn’t get fat. All your family have an unfortunate + tendency to grow fat. You mustn’t,” he repeated in an imploring voice, and + kissed her hand. “You are so handsome! You are so splendid! Here, your + Excellency, let me introduce the one woman in the world whom I have ever + seriously loved.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing surprising in that. To know Anna Akimovna at your age + and not to be in love with her, that would be impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “I adore her,” the lawyer continued with perfect sincerity, but with his + usual indolent grace. “I love her, but not because I am a man and she is a + woman. When I am with her I always feel as though she belongs to some + third sex, and I to a fourth, and we float away together into the domain + of the subtlest shades, and there we blend into the spectrum. Leconte de + Lisle defines such relations better than any one. He has a superb passage, + a marvellous passage. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Lysevitch rummaged in one notebook, then in the other, and, not finding + the quotation, subsided. They began talking of the weather, of the opera, + of the arrival, expected shortly, of Duse. Anna Akimovna remembered that + the year before Lysevitch and, she fancied, Krylin had dined with her, and + now when they were getting ready to go away, she began with perfect + sincerity pointing out to them in an imploring voice that as they had no + more visits to pay, they ought to remain to dinner with her. After some + hesitation the visitors agreed. + </p> + <p> + In addition to the family dinner, consisting of cabbage soup, sucking pig, + goose with apples, and so on, a so-called “French” or “chef’s” dinner used + to be prepared in the kitchen on great holidays, in case any visitor in + the upper story wanted a meal. When they heard the clatter of crockery in + the dining-room, Lysevitch began to betray a noticeable excitement; he + rubbed his hands, shrugged his shoulders, screwed up his eyes, and + described with feeling what dinners her father and uncle used to give at + one time, and a marvellous <i>matelote</i> of turbots the cook here could + make: it was not a <i>matelote</i>, but a veritable revelation! He was + already gloating over the dinner, already eating it in imagination and + enjoying it. When Anna Akimovna took his arm and led him to the + dining-room, he tossed off a glass of vodka and put a piece of salmon in + his mouth; he positively purred with pleasure. He munched loudly, + disgustingly, emitting sounds from his nose, while his eyes grew oily and + rapacious. + </p> + <p> + The <i>hors d’oeuvres</i> were superb; among other things, there were + fresh white mushrooms stewed in cream, and sauce <i>provençale</i> made of + fried oysters and crayfish, strongly flavoured with some bitter pickles. + The dinner, consisting of elaborate holiday dishes, was excellent, and so + were the wines. Mishenka waited at table with enthusiasm. When he laid + some new dish on the table and lifted the shining cover, or poured out the + wine, he did it with the solemnity of a professor of black magic, and, + looking at his face and his movements suggesting the first figure of a + quadrille, the lawyer thought several times, “What a fool!” + </p> + <p> + After the third course Lysevitch said, turning to Anna Akimovna: + </p> + <p> + “The <i>fin de siècle</i> woman—I mean when she is young, and of + course wealthy—must be independent, clever, elegant, intellectual, + bold, and a little depraved. Depraved within limits, a little; for excess, + you know, is wearisome. You ought not to vegetate, my dear; you ought not + to live like every one else, but to get the full savour of life, and a + slight flavour of depravity is the sauce of life. Revel among flowers of + intoxicating fragrance, breathe the perfume of musk, eat hashish, and best + of all, love, love, love . . . . To begin with, in your place I would set + up seven lovers—one for each day of the week; and one I would call + Monday, one Tuesday, the third Wednesday, and so on, so that each might + know his day.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation troubled Anna Akimovna; she ate nothing and only drank a + glass of wine. + </p> + <p> + “Let me speak at last,” she said. “For myself personally, I can’t conceive + of love without family life. I am lonely, lonely as the moon in the sky, + and a waning moon, too; and whatever you may say, I am convinced, I feel + that this waning can only be restored by love in its ordinary sense. It + seems to me that such love would define my duties, my work, make clear my + conception of life. I want from love peace of soul, tranquillity; I want + the very opposite of musk, and spiritualism, and <i>fin de siècle</i> . . + . in short”—she grew embarrassed—“a husband and children.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to be married? Well, you can do that, too,” Lysevitch assented. + “You ought to have all experiences: marriage, and jealousy, and the + sweetness of the first infidelity, and even children. . . . But make haste + and live—make haste, my dear: time is passing; it won’t wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’ll go and get married!” she said, looking angrily at his well-fed, + satisfied face. “I will marry in the simplest, most ordinary way and be + radiant with happiness. And, would you believe it, I will marry some plain + working man, some mechanic or draughtsman.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no harm in that, either. The Duchess Josiana loved Gwinplin, and + that was permissible for her because she was a grand duchess. Everything + is permissible for you, too, because you are an exceptional woman: if, my + dear, you want to love a negro or an Arab, don’t scruple; send for a + negro. Don’t deny yourself anything. You ought to be as bold as your + desires; don’t fall short of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Can it be so hard to understand me?” Anna Akimovna asked with amazement, + and her eyes were bright with tears. “Understand, I have an immense + business on my hands—two thousand workmen, for whom I must answer + before God. The men who work for me grow blind and deaf. I am afraid to go + on like this; I am afraid! I am wretched, and you have the cruelty to talk + to me of negroes and . . . and you smile!” Anna Akimovna brought her fist + down on the table. “To go on living the life I am living now, or to marry + some one as idle and incompetent as myself, would be a crime. I can’t go + on living like this,” she said hotly, “I cannot!” + </p> + <p> + “How handsome she is!” said Lysevitch, fascinated by her. “My God, how + handsome she is! But why are you angry, my dear? Perhaps I am wrong; but + surely you don’t imagine that if, for the sake of ideas for which I have + the deepest respect, you renounce the joys of life and lead a dreary + existence, your workmen will be any the better for it? Not a scrap! No, + frivolity, frivolity!” he said decisively. “It’s essential for you; it’s + your duty to be frivolous and depraved! Ponder that, my dear, ponder it.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna was glad she had spoken out, and her spirits rose. She was + pleased she had spoken so well, and that her ideas were so fine and just, + and she was already convinced that if Pimenov, for instance, loved her, + she would marry him with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Mishenka began to pour out champagne. + </p> + <p> + “You make me angry, Viktor Nikolaitch,” she said, clinking glasses with + the lawyer. “It seems to me you give advice and know nothing of life + yourself. According to you, if a man be a mechanic or a draughtsman, he is + bound to be a peasant and an ignoramus! But they are the cleverest people! + Extraordinary people!” + </p> + <p> + “Your uncle and father . . . I knew them and respected them . . .” Krylin + said, pausing for emphasis (he had been sitting upright as a post, and had + been eating steadily the whole time), “were people of considerable + intelligence and . . . of lofty spiritual qualities.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to be sure, we know all about their qualities,” the lawyer muttered, + and asked permission to smoke. + </p> + <p> + When dinner was over Krylin was led away for a nap. Lysevitch finished his + cigar, and, staggering from repletion, followed Anna Akimovna into her + study. Cosy corners with photographs and fans on the walls, and the + inevitable pink or pale blue lanterns in the middle of the ceiling, he did + not like, as the expression of an insipid and unoriginal character; + besides, the memory of certain of his love affairs of which he was now + ashamed was associated with such lanterns. Anna Akimovna’s study with its + bare walls and tasteless furniture pleased him exceedingly. It was snug + and comfortable for him to sit on a Turkish divan and look at Anna + Akimovna, who usually sat on the rug before the fire, clasping her knees + and looking into the fire and thinking of something; and at such moments + it seemed to him that her peasant Old Believer blood was stirring within + her. + </p> + <p> + Every time after dinner when coffee and liqueurs were handed, he grew + livelier and began telling her various bits of literary gossip. He spoke + with eloquence and inspiration, and was carried away by his own stories; + and she listened to him and thought every time that for such enjoyment it + was worth paying not only twelve thousand, but three times that sum, and + forgave him everything she disliked in him. He sometimes told her the + story of some tale or novel he had been reading, and then two or three + hours passed unnoticed like a minute. Now he began rather dolefully in a + failing voice with his eyes shut. + </p> + <p> + “It’s ages, my dear, since I have read anything,” he said when she asked + him to tell her something. “Though I do sometimes read Jules Verne.” + </p> + <p> + “I was expecting you to tell me something new.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . . new,” Lysevitch muttered sleepily, and he settled himself + further back in the corner of the sofa. “None of the new literature, my + dear, is any use for you or me. Of course, it is bound to be such as it + is, and to refuse to recognize it is to refuse to recognize —would + mean refusing to recognize the natural order of things, and I do recognize + it, but . . .” Lysevitch seemed to have fallen asleep. But a minute later + his voice was heard again: + </p> + <p> + “All the new literature moans and howls like the autumn wind in the + chimney. ‘Ah, unhappy wretch! Ah, your life may be likened to a prison! + Ah, how damp and dark it is in your prison! Ah, you will certainly come to + ruin, and there is no chance of escape for you!’ That’s very fine, but I + should prefer a literature that would tell us how to escape from prison. + Of all contemporary writers, however, I prefer Maupassant.” Lysevitch + opened his eyes. “A fine writer, a perfect writer!” Lysevitch shifted in + his seat. “A wonderful artist! A terrible, prodigious, supernatural + artist!” Lysevitch got up from the sofa and raised his right arm. + “Maupassant!” he said rapturously. “My dear, read Maupassant! one page of + his gives you more than all the riches of the earth! Every line is a new + horizon. The softest, tenderest impulses of the soul alternate with + violent tempestuous sensations; your soul, as though under the weight of + forty thousand atmospheres, is transformed into the most insignificant + little bit of some great thing of an undefined rosy hue which I fancy, if + one could put it on one’s tongue, would yield a pungent, voluptuous taste. + What a fury of transitions, of motives, of melodies! You rest peacefully + on the lilies and the roses, and suddenly a thought —a terrible, + splendid, irresistible thought—swoops down upon you like a + locomotive, and bathes you in hot steam and deafens you with its whistle. + Read Maupassant, dear girl; I insist on it.” + </p> + <p> + Lysevitch waved his arms and paced from corner to corner in violent + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is inconceivable,” he pronounced, as though in despair; “his last + thing overwhelmed me, intoxicated me! But I am afraid you will not care + for it. To be carried away by it you must savour it, slowly suck the juice + from each line, drink it in. . . . You must drink it in! . . .” + </p> + <p> + After a long introduction, containing many words such as dæmonic + sensuality, a network of the most delicate nerves, simoom, crystal, and so + on, he began at last telling the story of the novel. He did not tell the + story so whimsically, but told it in minute detail, quoting from memory + whole descriptions and conversations; the characters of the novel + fascinated him, and to describe them he threw himself into attitudes, + changed the expression of his face and voice like a real actor. He laughed + with delight at one moment in a deep bass, and at another, on a high + shrill note, clasped his hands and clutched at his head with an expression + which suggested that it was just going to burst. Anna Akimovna listened + enthralled, though she had already read the novel, and it seemed to her + ever so much finer and more subtle in the lawyer’s version than in the + book itself. He drew her attention to various subtleties, and emphasized + the felicitous expressions and the profound thoughts, but she saw in it, + only life, life, life and herself, as though she had been a character in + the novel. Her spirits rose, and she, too, laughing and clasping her + hands, thought that she could not go on living such a life, that there was + no need to have a wretched life when one might have a splendid one. She + remembered her words and thoughts at dinner, and was proud of them; and + when Pimenov suddenly rose up in her imagination, she felt happy and + longed for him to love her. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished the story, Lysevitch sat down on the sofa, exhausted. + </p> + <p> + “How splendid you are! How handsome!” he began, a little while afterwards + in a faint voice as if he were ill. “I am happy near you, dear girl, but + why am I forty-two instead of thirty? Your tastes and mine do not + coincide: you ought to be depraved, and I have long passed that phase, and + want a love as delicate and immaterial as a ray of sunshine—that is, + from the point of view of a woman of your age, I am of no earthly use.” + </p> + <p> + In his own words, he loved Turgenev, the singer of virginal love and + purity, of youth, and of the melancholy Russian landscape; but he loved + virginal love, not from knowledge but from hearsay, as something abstract, + existing outside real life. Now he assured himself that he loved Anna + Akimovna platonically, ideally, though he did not know what those words + meant. But he felt comfortable, snug, warm. Anna Akimovna seemed to him + enchanting, original, and he imagined that the pleasant sensation that was + aroused in him by these surroundings was the very thing that was called + platonic love. + </p> + <p> + He laid his cheek on her hand and said in the tone commonly used in + coaxing little children: + </p> + <p> + “My precious, why have you punished me?” + </p> + <p> + “How? When?” + </p> + <p> + “I have had no Christmas present from you.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna had never heard before of their sending a Christmas box to + the lawyer, and now she was at a loss how much to give him. But she must + give him something, for he was expecting it, though he looked at her with + eyes full of love. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Nazaritch forgot it,” she said, “but it is not too late to set + it right.” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly remembered the fifteen hundred she had received the day + before, which was now lying in the toilet drawer in her bedroom. And when + she brought that ungrateful money and gave it to the lawyer, and he put it + in his coat pocket with indolent grace, the whole incident passed off + charmingly and naturally. The sudden reminder of a Christmas box and this + fifteen hundred was not unbecoming in Lysevitch. + </p> + <p> + “Merci,” he said, and kissed her finger. + </p> + <p> + Krylin came in with blissful, sleepy face, but without his decorations. + </p> + <p> + Lysevitch and he stayed a little longer and drank a glass of tea each, and + began to get ready to go. Anna Akimovna was a little embarrassed. . . . + She had utterly forgotten in what department Krylin served, and whether + she had to give him money or not; and if she had to, whether to give it + now or send it afterwards in an envelope. + </p> + <p> + “Where does he serve?” she whispered to Lysevitch. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness knows,” muttered Lysevitch, yawning. + </p> + <p> + She reflected that if Krylin used to visit her father and her uncle and + respected them, it was probably not for nothing: apparently he had been + charitable at their expense, serving in some charitable institution. As + she said good-bye she slipped three hundred roubles into his hand; he + seemed taken aback, and looked at her for a minute in silence with his + pewtery eyes, but then seemed to understand and said: + </p> + <p> + “The receipt, honoured Anna Akimovna, you can only receive on the New + Year.” + </p> + <p> + Lysevitch had become utterly limp and heavy, and he staggered when + Mishenka put on his overcoat. + </p> + <p> + As he went downstairs he looked like a man in the last stage of + exhaustion, and it was evident that he would drop asleep as soon as he got + into his sledge. + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency,” he said languidly to Krylin, stopping in the middle of + the staircase, “has it ever happened to you to experience a feeling as + though some unseen force were drawing you out longer and longer? You are + drawn out and turn into the finest wire. Subjectively this finds + expression in a curious voluptuous feeling which is impossible to compare + with anything.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna, standing at the top of the stairs, saw each of them give + Mishenka a note. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye! Come again!” she called to them, and ran into her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + She quickly threw off her dress, that she was weary of already, put on a + dressing-gown, and ran downstairs; and as she ran downstairs she laughed + and thumped with her feet like a school-boy; she had a great desire for + mischief. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>vening + </p> + <p> + Auntie, in a loose print blouse, Varvarushka and two old women, were + sitting in the dining-room having supper. A big piece of salt meat, a ham, + and various savouries, were lying on the table before them, and clouds of + steam were rising from the meat, which looked particularly fat and + appetizing. Wine was not served on the lower story, but they made up for + it with a great number of spirits and home-made liqueurs. Agafyushka, the + fat, white-skinned, well-fed cook, was standing with her arms crossed in + the doorway and talking to the old women, and the dishes were being handed + by the downstairs Masha, a dark girl with a crimson ribbon in her hair. + The old women had had enough to eat before the morning was over, and an + hour before supper had had tea and buns, and so they were now eating with + effort—as it were, from a sense of duty. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my girl!” sighed Auntie, as Anna Akimovna ran into the dining-room + and sat down beside her. “You’ve frightened me to death!” + </p> + <p> + Every one in the house was pleased when Anna Akimovna was in good spirits + and played pranks; this always reminded them that the old men were dead + and that the old women had no authority in the house, and any one could do + as he liked without any fear of being sharply called to account for it. + Only the two old women glanced askance at Anna Akimovna with amazement: + she was humming, and it was a sin to sing at table. + </p> + <p> + “Our mistress, our beauty, our picture,” Agafyushka began chanting with + sugary sweetness. “Our precious jewel! The people, the people that have + come to-day to look at our queen. Lord have mercy upon us! Generals, and + officers and gentlemen. . . . I kept looking out of window and counting + and counting till I gave it up.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d as soon they did not come at all,” said Auntie; she looked sadly at + her niece and added: “They only waste the time for my poor orphan girl.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna felt hungry, as she had eaten nothing since the morning. + They poured her out some very bitter liqueur; she drank it off, and tasted + the salt meat with mustard, and thought it extraordinarily nice. Then the + downstairs Masha brought in the turkey, the pickled apples and the + gooseberries. And that pleased her, too. There was only one thing that was + disagreeable: there was a draught of hot air from the tiled stove; it was + stiflingly close and every one’s cheeks were burning. After supper the + cloth was taken off and plates of peppermint biscuits, walnuts, and + raisins were brought in. + </p> + <p> + “You sit down, too . . . no need to stand there!” said Auntie to the cook. + </p> + <p> + Agafyushka sighed and sat down to the table; Masha set a wineglass of + liqueur before her, too, and Anna Akimovna began to feel as though + Agafyushka’s white neck were giving out heat like the stove. They were all + talking of how difficult it was nowadays to get married, and saying that + in old days, if men did not court beauty, they paid attention to money, + but now there was no making out what they wanted; and while hunchbacks and + cripples used to be left old maids, nowadays men would not have even the + beautiful and wealthy. Auntie began to set this down to immorality, and + said that people had no fear of God, but she suddenly remembered that Ivan + Ivanitch, her brother, and Varvarushka—both people of holy life—had + feared God, but all the same had had children on the sly, and had sent + them to the Foundling Asylum. She pulled herself up and changed the + conversation, telling them about a suitor she had once had, a factory + hand, and how she had loved him, but her brothers had forced her to marry + a widower, an ikon-painter, who, thank God, had died two years after. The + downstairs Masha sat down to the table, too, and told them with a + mysterious air that for the last week some unknown man with a black + moustache, in a great-coat with an astrachan collar, had made his + appearance every morning in the yard, had stared at the windows of the big + house, and had gone on further— to the buildings; the man was all + right, nice-looking. + </p> + <p> + All this conversation made Anna Akimovna suddenly long to be married + —long intensely, painfully; she felt as though she would give half + her life and all her fortune only to know that upstairs there was a man + who was closer to her than any one in the world, that he loved her warmly + and was missing her; and the thought of such closeness, ecstatic and + inexpressible in words, troubled her soul. And the instinct of youth and + health flattered her with lying assurances that the real poetry of life + was not over but still to come, and she believed it, and leaning back in + her chair (her hair fell down as she did so), she began laughing, and, + looking at her, the others laughed, too. And it was a long time before + this causeless laughter died down in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + She was informed that the Stinging Beetle had come. This was a pilgrim + woman called Pasha or Spiridonovna—a thin little woman of fifty, in + a black dress with a white kerchief, with keen eyes, sharp nose, and a + sharp chin; she had sly, viperish eyes and she looked as though she could + see right through every one. Her lips were shaped like a heart. Her + viperishness and hostility to every one had earned her the nickname of the + Stinging Beetle. + </p> + <p> + Going into the dining-room without looking at any one, she made for the + ikons and chanted in a high voice “Thy Holy Birth,” then she sang “The + Virgin today gives birth to the Son,” then “Christ is born,” then she + turned round and bent a piercing gaze upon all of them. + </p> + <p> + “A happy Christmas,” she said, and she kissed Anna Akimovna on the + shoulder. “It’s all I could do, all I could do to get to you, my kind + friends.” She kissed Auntie on the shoulder. “I should have come to you + this morning, but I went in to some good people to rest on the way. ‘Stay, + Spiridonovna, stay,’ they said, and I did not notice that evening was + coming on.” + </p> + <p> + As she did not eat meat, they gave her salmon and caviare. She ate looking + from under her eyelids at the company, and drank three glasses of vodka. + When she had finished she said a prayer and bowed down to Anna Akimovna’s + feet. + </p> + <p> + They began to play a game of “kings,” as they had done the year before, + and the year before that, and all the servants in both stories crowded in + at the doors to watch the game. Anna Akimovna fancied she caught a glimpse + once or twice of Mishenka, with a patronizing smile on his face, among the + crowd of peasant men and women. The first to be king was Stinging Beetle, + and Anna Akimovna as the soldier paid her tribute; and then Auntie was + king and Anna Akimovna was peasant, which excited general delight, and + Agafyushka was prince, and was quite abashed with pleasure. Another game + was got up at the other end of the table—played by the two Mashas, + Varvarushka, and the sewing-maid Marfa Ptrovna, who was waked on purpose + to play “kings,” and whose face looked cross and sleepy. + </p> + <p> + While they were playing they talked of men, and of how difficult it was to + get a good husband nowadays, and which state was to be preferred—that + of an old maid or a widow. + </p> + <p> + “You are a handsome, healthy, sturdy lass,” said Stinging Beetle to Anna + Akimovna. “But I can’t make out for whose sake you are holding back.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s to be done if nobody will have me?” + </p> + <p> + “Or maybe you have taken a vow to remain a maid?” Stinging Beetle went on, + as though she did not hear. “Well, that’s a good deed. . . . Remain one,” + she repeated, looking intently and maliciously at her cards. “All right, + my dear, remain one. . . . Yes . . . only maids, these saintly maids, are + not all alike.” She heaved a sigh and played the king. “Oh, no, my girl, + they are not all alike! Some really watch over themselves like nuns, and + butter would not melt in their mouths; and if such a one does sin in an + hour of weakness, she is worried to death, poor thing! so it would be a + sin to condemn her. While others will go dressed in black and sew their + shroud, and yet love rich old men on the sly. Yes, y-es, my canary birds, + some hussies will bewitch an old man and rule over him, my doves, rule + over him and turn his head; and when they’ve saved up money and lottery + tickets enough, they will bewitch him to his death.” + </p> + <p> + Varvarushka’s only response to these hints was to heave a sigh and look + towards the ikons. There was an expression of Christian meekness on her + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “I know a maid like that, my bitterest enemy,” Stinging Beetle went on, + looking round at every one in triumph; “she is always sighing, too, and + looking at the ikons, the she-devil. When she used to rule in a certain + old man’s house, if one went to her she would give one a crust, and bid + one bow down to the ikons while she would sing: ‘In conception Thou dost + abide a Virgin . . . !’ On holidays she will give one a bite, and on + working days she will reproach one for it. But nowadays I will make merry + over her! I will make as merry as I please, my jewel.” + </p> + <p> + Varvarushka glanced at the ikons again and crossed herself. + </p> + <p> + “But no one will have me, Spiridonovna,” said Anna Akimovna to change the + conversation. “What’s to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s your own fault. You keep waiting for highly educated gentlemen, but + you ought to marry one of your own sort, a merchant.” + </p> + <p> + “We don’t want a merchant,” said Auntie, all in a flutter. “Queen of + Heaven, preserve us! A gentleman will spend your money, but then he will + be kind to you, you poor little fool. But a merchant will be so strict + that you won’t feel at home in your own house. You’ll be wanting to fondle + him and he will be counting his money, and when you sit down to meals with + him, he’ll grudge you every mouthful, though it’s your own, the lout! . . + . Marry a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + They all talked at once, loudly interrupting one another, and Auntie + tapped on the table with the nutcrackers and said, flushed and angry: + </p> + <p> + “We won’t have a merchant; we won’t have one! If you choose a merchant I + shall go to an almshouse.” + </p> + <p> + “Sh . . . Sh! . . . Hush!” cried Stinging Beetle; when all were silent she + screwed up one eye and said: “Do you know what, Annushka, my birdie . . . + ? There is no need for you to get married really like every one else. + You’re rich and free, you are your own mistress; but yet, my child, it + doesn’t seem the right thing for you to be an old maid. I’ll find you, you + know, some trumpery and simple-witted man. You’ll marry him for + appearances and then have your fling, bonny lass! You can hand him five + thousand or ten maybe, and pack him off where he came from, and you will + be mistress in your own house—you can love whom you like and no one + can say anything to you. And then you can love your highly educated + gentleman. You’ll have a jolly time!” Stinging Beetle snapped her fingers + and gave a whistle. + </p> + <p> + “It’s sinful,” said Auntie. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sinful,” laughed Stinging Beetle. “She is educated, she understands. + To cut some one’s throat or bewitch an old man— that’s a sin, that’s + true; but to love some charming young friend is not a sin at all. And what + is there in it, really? There’s no sin in it at all! The old pilgrim women + have invented all that to make fools of simple folk. I, too, say + everywhere it’s a sin; I don’t know myself why it’s a sin.” Stinging + Beetle emptied her glass and cleared her throat. “Have your fling, bonny + lass,” this time evidently addressing herself. “For thirty years, wenches, + I have thought of nothing but sins and been afraid, but now I see I have + wasted my time, I’ve let it slip by like a ninny! Ah, I have been a fool, + a fool!” She sighed. “A woman’s time is short and every day is precious. + You are handsome, Annushka, and very rich; but as soon as thirty-five or + forty strikes for you your time is up. Don’t listen to any one, my girl; + live, have your fling till you are forty, and then you will have time to + pray forgiveness—there will be plenty of time to bow down and to sew + your shroud. A candle to God and a poker to the devil! You can do both at + once! Well, how is it to be? Will you make some little man happy?” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” laughed Anna Akimovna. “I don’t care now; I would marry a + working man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that would do all right! Oh, what a fine fellow you would choose + then!” Stinging Beetle screwed up her eyes and shook her head. “O—o—oh!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell her myself,” said Auntie, “it’s no good waiting for a gentleman, + so she had better marry, not a gentleman, but some one humbler; anyway we + should have a man in the house to look after things. And there are lots of + good men. She might have some one out of the factory. They are all sober, + steady men. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so,” Stinging Beetle agreed. “They are capital fellows. If + you like, Aunt, I will make a match for her with Vassily Lebedinsky?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Vasya’s legs are so long,” said Auntie seriously. “He is so lanky. He + has no looks.” + </p> + <p> + There was laughter in the crowd by the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Pimenov? Would you like to marry Pimenov?” Stinging Beetle asked + Anna Akimovna. + </p> + <p> + “Very good. Make a match for me with Pimenov.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do!” Anna Akimovna said resolutely, and she struck her fist on the + table. “On my honour, I will marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna suddenly felt ashamed that her cheeks were burning and that + every one was looking at her; she flung the cards together on the table + and ran out of the room. As she ran up the stairs and, reaching the upper + story, sat down to the piano in the drawing-room, a murmur of sound + reached her from below like the roar of the sea; most likely they were + talking of her and of Pimenov, and perhaps Stinging Beetle was taking + advantage of her absence to insult Varvarushka and was putting no check on + her language. + </p> + <p> + The lamp in the big room was the only light burning in the upper story, + and it sent a glimmer through the door into the dark drawing-room. It was + between nine and ten, not later. Anna Akimovna played a waltz, then + another, then a third; she went on playing without stopping. She looked + into the dark corner beyond the piano, smiled, and inwardly called to it, + and the idea occurred to her that she might drive off to the town to see + some one, Lysevitch for instance, and tell him what was passing in her + heart. She wanted to talk without ceasing, to laugh, to play the fool, but + the dark corner was sullenly silent, and all round in all the rooms of the + upper story it was still and desolate. + </p> + <p> + She was fond of sentimental songs, but she had a harsh, untrained voice, + and so she only played the accompaniment and sang hardly audibly, just + above her breath. She sang in a whisper one song after another, for the + most part about love, separation, and frustrated hopes, and she imagined + how she would hold out her hands to him and say with entreaty, with tears, + “Pimenov, take this burden from me!” And then, just as though her sins had + been forgiven, there would be joy and comfort in her soul, and perhaps a + free, happy life would begin. In an anguish of anticipation she leant over + the keys, with a passionate longing for the change in her life to come at + once without delay, and was terrified at the thought that her old life + would go on for some time longer. Then she played again and sang hardly + above her breath, and all was stillness about her. There was no noise + coming from downstairs now, they must have gone to bed. It had struck ten + some time before. A long, solitary, wearisome night was approaching. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna walked through all the rooms, lay down for a while on the + sofa, and read in her study the letters that had come that evening; there + were twelve letters of Christmas greetings and three anonymous letters. In + one of them some workman complained in a horrible, almost illegible + handwriting that Lenten oil sold in the factory shop was rancid and smelt + of paraffin; in another, some one respectfully informed her that over a + purchase of iron Nazaritch had lately taken a bribe of a thousand roubles + from some one; in a third she was abused for her inhumanity. + </p> + <p> + The excitement of Christmas was passing off, and to keep it up Anna + Akimovna sat down at the piano again and softly played one of the new + waltzes, then she remembered how cleverly and creditably she had spoken at + dinner today. She looked round at the dark windows, at the walls with the + pictures, at the faint light that came from the big room, and all at once + she began suddenly crying, and she felt vexed that she was so lonely, and + that she had no one to talk to and consult. To cheer herself she tried to + picture Pimenov in her imagination, but it was unsuccessful. + </p> + <p> + It struck twelve. Mishenka, no longer wearing his swallow-tail but in his + reefer jacket, came in, and without speaking lighted two candles; then he + went out and returned a minute later with a cup of tea on a tray. + </p> + <p> + “What are you laughing at?” she asked, noticing a smile on his face. + </p> + <p> + “I was downstairs and heard the jokes you were making about Pimenov . . .” + he said, and put his hand before his laughing mouth. “If he were sat down + to dinner today with Viktor Nikolaevitch and the general, he’d have died + of fright.” Mishenka’s shoulders were shaking with laughter. “He doesn’t + know even how to hold his fork, I bet.” + </p> + <p> + The footman’s laughter and words, his reefer jacket and moustache, gave + Anna Akimovna a feeling of uncleanness. She shut her eyes to avoid seeing + him, and, against her own will, imagined Pimenov dining with Lysevitch and + Krylin, and his timid, unintellectual figure seemed to her pitiful and + helpless, and she felt repelled by it. And only now, for the first time in + the whole day, she realized clearly that all she had said and thought + about Pimenov and marrying a workman was nonsense, folly, and wilfulness. + To convince herself of the opposite, to overcome her repulsion, she tried + to recall what she had said at dinner, but now she could not see anything + in it: shame at her own thoughts and actions, and the fear that she had + said something improper during the day, and disgust at her own lack of + spirit, overwhelmed her completely. She took up a candle and, as rapidly + as if some one were pursuing her, ran downstairs, woke Spiridonovna, and + began assuring her she had been joking. Then she went to her bedroom. + Red-haired Masha, who was dozing in an arm-chair near the bed, jumped up + and began shaking up the pillows. Her face was exhausted and sleepy, and + her magnificent hair had fallen on one side. + </p> + <p> + “Tchalikov came again this evening,” she said, yawning, “but I did not + dare to announce him; he was very drunk. He says he will come again + tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he want with me?” said Anna Akimovna, and she flung her comb on + the floor. “I won’t see him, I won’t.” + </p> + <p> + She made up her mind she had no one left in life but this Tchalikov, that + he would never leave off persecuting her, and would remind her every day + how uninteresting and absurd her life was. So all she was fit for was to + help the poor. Oh, how stupid it was! + </p> + <p> + She lay down without undressing, and sobbed with shame and depression: + what seemed to her most vexatious and stupid of all was that her dreams + that day about Pimenov had been right, lofty, honourable, but at the same + time she felt that Lysevitch and even Krylin were nearer to her than + Pimenov and all the workpeople taken together. She thought that if the + long day she had just spent could have been represented in a picture, all + that had been bad and vulgar—as, for instance, the dinner, the + lawyer’s talk, the game of “kings” —would have been true, while her + dreams and talk about Pimenov would have stood out from the whole as + something false, as out of drawing; and she thought, too, that it was too + late to dream of happiness, that everything was over for her, and it was + impossible to go back to the life when she had slept under the same quilt + with her mother, or to devise some new special sort of life. + </p> + <p> + Red-haired Masha was kneeling before the bed, gazing at her in mournful + perplexity; then she, too, began crying, and laid her face against her + mistress’s arm, and without words it was clear why she was so wretched. + </p> + <p> + “We are fools!” said Anna Akimovna, laughing and crying. “We are fools! + Oh, what fools we are!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A PROBLEM + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE strictest + measures were taken that the Uskovs’ family secret might not leak out and + become generally known. Half of the servants were sent off to the theatre + or the circus; the other half were sitting in the kitchen and not allowed + to leave it. Orders were given that no one was to be admitted. The wife of + the Colonel, her sister, and the governess, though they had been initiated + into the secret, kept up a pretence of knowing nothing; they sat in the + dining-room and did not show themselves in the drawing-room or the hall. + </p> + <p> + Sasha Uskov, the young man of twenty-five who was the cause of all the + commotion, had arrived some time before, and by the advice of kind-hearted + Ivan Markovitch, his uncle, who was taking his part, he sat meekly in the + hall by the door leading to the study, and prepared himself to make an + open, candid explanation. + </p> + <p> + The other side of the door, in the study, a family council was being held. + The subject under discussion was an exceedingly disagreeable and delicate + one. Sasha Uskov had cashed at one of the banks a false promissory note, + and it had become due for payment three days before, and now his two + paternal uncles and Ivan Markovitch, the brother of his dead mother, were + deciding the question whether they should pay the money and save the + family honour, or wash their hands of it and leave the case to go for + trial. + </p> + <p> + To outsiders who have no personal interest in the matter such questions + seem simple; for those who are so unfortunate as to have to decide them in + earnest they are extremely difficult. The uncles had been talking for a + long time, but the problem seemed no nearer decision. + </p> + <p> + “My friends!” said the uncle who was a colonel, and there was a note of + exhaustion and bitterness in his voice. “Who says that family honour is a + mere convention? I don’t say that at all. I am only warning you against a + false view; I am pointing out the possibility of an unpardonable mistake. + How can you fail to see it? I am not speaking Chinese; I am speaking + Russian!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, we do understand,” Ivan Markovitch protested mildly. + </p> + <p> + “How can you understand if you say that I don’t believe in family honour? + I repeat once more: fa-mil-y ho-nour fal-sely un-der-stood is a prejudice! + Falsely understood! That’s what I say: whatever may be the motives for + screening a scoundrel, whoever he may be, and helping him to escape + punishment, it is contrary to law and unworthy of a gentleman. It’s not + saving the family honour; it’s civic cowardice! Take the army, for + instance. . . . The honour of the army is more precious to us than any + other honour, yet we don’t screen our guilty members, but condemn them. + And does the honour of the army suffer in consequence? Quite the + opposite!” + </p> + <p> + The other paternal uncle, an official in the Treasury, a taciturn, + dull-witted, and rheumatic man, sat silent, or spoke only of the fact that + the Uskovs’ name would get into the newspapers if the case went for trial. + His opinion was that the case ought to be hushed up from the first and not + become public property; but, apart from publicity in the newspapers, he + advanced no other argument in support of this opinion. + </p> + <p> + The maternal uncle, kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch, spoke smoothly, softly, + and with a tremor in his voice. He began with saying that youth has its + rights and its peculiar temptations. Which of us has not been young, and + who has not been led astray? To say nothing of ordinary mortals, even + great men have not escaped errors and mistakes in their youth. Take, for + instance, the biography of great writers. Did not every one of them + gamble, drink, and draw down upon himself the anger of right-thinking + people in his young days? If Sasha’s error bordered upon crime, they must + remember that Sasha had received practically no education; he had been + expelled from the high school in the fifth class; he had lost his parents + in early childhood, and so had been left at the tenderest age without + guidance and good, benevolent influences. He was nervous, excitable, had + no firm ground under his feet, and, above all, he had been unlucky. Even + if he were guilty, anyway he deserved indulgence and the sympathy of all + compassionate souls. He ought, of course, to be punished, but he was + punished as it was by his conscience and the agonies he was enduring now + while awaiting the sentence of his relations. The comparison with the army + made by the Colonel was delightful, and did credit to his lofty + intelligence; his appeal to their feeling of public duty spoke for the + chivalry of his soul, but they must not forget that in each individual the + citizen is closely linked with the Christian. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Shall we be false to civic duty,” Ivan Markovitch exclaimed passionately, + “if instead of punishing an erring boy we hold out to him a helping hand?” + </p> + <p> + Ivan Markovitch talked further of family honour. He had not the honour to + belong to the Uskov family himself, but he knew their distinguished family + went back to the thirteenth century; he did not forget for a minute, + either, that his precious, beloved sister had been the wife of one of the + representatives of that name. In short, the family was dear to him for + many reasons, and he refused to admit the idea that, for the sake of a + paltry fifteen hundred roubles, a blot should be cast on the escutcheon + that was beyond all price. If all the motives he had brought forward were + not sufficiently convincing, he, Ivan Markovitch, in conclusion, begged + his listeners to ask themselves what was meant by crime? Crime is an + immoral act founded upon ill-will. But is the will of man free? Philosophy + has not yet given a positive answer to that question. Different views were + held by the learned. The latest school of Lombroso, for instance, denies + the freedom of the will, and considers every crime as the product of the + purely anatomical peculiarities of the individual. + </p> + <p> + “Ivan Markovitch,” said the Colonel, in a voice of entreaty, “we are + talking seriously about an important matter, and you bring in Lombroso, + you clever fellow. Think a little, what are you saying all this for? Can + you imagine that all your thunderings and rhetoric will furnish an answer + to the question?” + </p> + <p> + Sasha Uskov sat at the door and listened. He felt neither terror, shame, + nor depression, but only weariness and inward emptiness. It seemed to him + that it made absolutely no difference to him whether they forgave him or + not; he had come here to hear his sentence and to explain himself simply + because kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch had begged him to do so. He was not + afraid of the future. It made no difference to him where he was: here in + the hall, in prison, or in Siberia. + </p> + <p> + “If Siberia, then let it be Siberia, damn it all!” + </p> + <p> + He was sick of life and found it insufferably hard. He was inextricably + involved in debt; he had not a farthing in his pocket; his family had + become detestable to him; he would have to part from his friends and his + women sooner or later, as they had begun to be too contemptuous of his + sponging on them. The future looked black. + </p> + <p> + Sasha was indifferent, and was only disturbed by one circumstance; the + other side of the door they were calling him a scoundrel and a criminal. + Every minute he was on the point of jumping up, bursting into the study + and shouting in answer to the detestable metallic voice of the Colonel: + </p> + <p> + “You are lying!” + </p> + <p> + “Criminal” is a dreadful word—that is what murderers, thieves, + robbers are; in fact, wicked and morally hopeless people. And Sasha was + very far from being all that. . . . It was true he owed a great deal and + did not pay his debts. But debt is not a crime, and it is unusual for a + man not to be in debt. The Colonel and Ivan Markovitch were both in debt. + . . . + </p> + <p> + “What have I done wrong besides?” Sasha wondered. + </p> + <p> + He had discounted a forged note. But all the young men he knew did the + same. Handrikov and Von Burst always forged IOU’s from their parents or + friends when their allowances were not paid at the regular time, and then + when they got their money from home they redeemed them before they became + due. Sasha had done the same, but had not redeemed the IOU because he had + not got the money which Handrikov had promised to lend him. He was not to + blame; it was the fault of circumstances. It was true that the use of + another person’s signature was considered reprehensible; but, still, it + was not a crime but a generally accepted dodge, an ugly formality which + injured no one and was quite harmless, for in forging the Colonel’s + signature Sasha had had no intention of causing anybody damage or loss. + </p> + <p> + “No, it doesn’t mean that I am a criminal . . .” thought Sasha. “And it’s + not in my character to bring myself to commit a crime. I am soft, + emotional. . . . When I have the money I help the poor. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Sasha was musing after this fashion while they went on talking the other + side of the door. + </p> + <p> + “But, my friends, this is endless,” the Colonel declared, getting excited. + “Suppose we were to forgive him and pay the money. You know he would not + give up leading a dissipated life, squandering money, making debts, going + to our tailors and ordering suits in our names! Can you guarantee that + this will be his last prank? As far as I am concerned, I have no faith + whatever in his reforming!” + </p> + <p> + The official of the Treasury muttered something in reply; after him Ivan + Markovitch began talking blandly and suavely again. The Colonel moved his + chair impatiently and drowned the other’s words with his detestable + metallic voice. At last the door opened and Ivan Markovitch came out of + the study; there were patches of red on his lean shaven face. + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” he said, taking Sasha by the hand. “Come and speak frankly + from your heart. Without pride, my dear boy, humbly and from your heart.” + </p> + <p> + Sasha went into the study. The official of the Treasury was sitting down; + the Colonel was standing before the table with one hand in his pocket and + one knee on a chair. It was smoky and stifling in the study. Sasha did not + look at the official or the Colonel; he felt suddenly ashamed and + uncomfortable. He looked uneasily at Ivan Markovitch and muttered: + </p> + <p> + “I’ll pay it . . . I’ll give it back. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “What did you expect when you discounted the IOU?” he heard a metallic + voice. + </p> + <p> + “I . . . Handrikov promised to lend me the money before now.” + </p> + <p> + Sasha could say no more. He went out of the study and sat down again on + the chair near the door. + </p> + <p> + He would have been glad to go away altogether at once, but he was choking + with hatred and he awfully wanted to remain, to tear the Colonel to + pieces, to say something rude to him. He sat trying to think of something + violent and effective to say to his hated uncle, and at that moment a + woman’s figure, shrouded in the twilight, appeared at the drawing-room + door. It was the Colonel’s wife. She beckoned Sasha to her, and, wringing + her hands, said, weeping: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Alexandre</i>, I know you don’t like me, but . . . listen to me; + listen, I beg you. . . . But, my dear, how can this have happened? Why, + it’s awful, awful! For goodness’ sake, beg them, defend yourself, entreat + them.” + </p> + <p> + Sasha looked at her quivering shoulders, at the big tears that were + rolling down her cheeks, heard behind his back the hollow, nervous voices + of worried and exhausted people, and shrugged his shoulders. He had not in + the least expected that his aristocratic relations would raise such a + tempest over a paltry fifteen hundred roubles! He could not understand her + tears nor the quiver of their voices. + </p> + <p> + An hour later he heard that the Colonel was getting the best of it; the + uncles were finally inclining to let the case go for trial. + </p> + <p> + “The matter’s settled,” said the Colonel, sighing. “Enough.” + </p> + <p> + After this decision all the uncles, even the emphatic Colonel, became + noticeably depressed. A silence followed. + </p> + <p> + “Merciful Heavens!” sighed Ivan Markovitch. “My poor sister!” + </p> + <p> + And he began saying in a subdued voice that most likely his sister, + Sasha’s mother, was present unseen in the study at that moment. He felt in + his soul how the unhappy, saintly woman was weeping, grieving, and begging + for her boy. For the sake of her peace beyond the grave, they ought to + spare Sasha. + </p> + <p> + The sound of a muffled sob was heard. Ivan Markovitch was weeping and + muttering something which it was impossible to catch through the door. The + Colonel got up and paced from corner to corner. The long conversation + began over again. + </p> + <p> + But then the clock in the drawing-room struck two. The family council was + over. To avoid seeing the person who had moved him to such wrath, the + Colonel went from the study, not into the hall, but into the vestibule. . + . . Ivan Markovitch came out into the hall. . . . He was agitated and + rubbing his hands joyfully. His tear-stained eyes looked good-humoured and + his mouth was twisted into a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Capital,” he said to Sasha. “Thank God! You can go home, my dear, and + sleep tranquilly. We have decided to pay the sum, but on condition that + you repent and come with me tomorrow into the country and set to work.” + </p> + <p> + A minute later Ivan Markovitch and Sasha in their great-coats and caps + were going down the stairs. The uncle was muttering something edifying. + Sasha did not listen, but felt as though some uneasy weight were gradually + slipping off his shoulders. They had forgiven him; he was free! A gust of + joy sprang up within him and sent a sweet chill to his heart. He longed to + breathe, to move swiftly, to live! Glancing at the street lamps and the + black sky, he remembered that Von Burst was celebrating his name-day that + evening at the “Bear,” and again a rush of joy flooded his soul. . . . + </p> + <p> + “I am going!” he decided. + </p> + <p> + But then he remembered he had not a farthing, that the companions he was + going to would despise him at once for his empty pockets. He must get hold + of some money, come what may! + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, lend me a hundred roubles,” he said to Ivan Markovitch. + </p> + <p> + His uncle, surprised, looked into his face and backed against a lamp-post. + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me,” said Sasha, shifting impatiently from one foot to the + other and beginning to pant. “Uncle, I entreat you, give me a hundred + roubles.” + </p> + <p> + His face worked; he trembled, and seemed on the point of attacking his + uncle. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you?” he kept asking, seeing that his uncle was still amazed and + did not understand. “Listen. If you don’t, I’ll give myself up tomorrow! I + won’t let you pay the IOU! I’ll present another false note tomorrow!” + </p> + <p> + Petrified, muttering something incoherent in his horror, Ivan Markovitch + took a hundred-rouble note out of his pocket-book and gave it to Sasha. + The young man took it and walked rapidly away from him. . . . + </p> + <p> + Taking a sledge, Sasha grew calmer, and felt a rush of joy within him + again. The “rights of youth” of which kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch had + spoken at the family council woke up and asserted themselves. Sasha + pictured the drinking-party before him, and, among the bottles, the women, + and his friends, the thought flashed through his mind: + </p> + <p> + “Now I see that I am a criminal; yes, I am a criminal.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE KISS + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>T eight o’clock on + the evening of the twentieth of May all the six batteries of the N—— + Reserve Artillery Brigade halted for the night in the village of + Myestetchki on their way to camp. When the general commotion was at its + height, while some officers were busily occupied around the guns, while + others, gathered together in the square near the church enclosure, were + listening to the quartermasters, a man in civilian dress, riding a strange + horse, came into sight round the church. The little dun-coloured horse + with a good neck and a short tail came, moving not straight forward, but + as it were sideways, with a sort of dance step, as though it were being + lashed about the legs. When he reached the officers the man on the horse + took off his hat and said: + </p> + <p> + “His Excellency Lieutenant-General von Rabbek invites the gentlemen to + drink tea with him this minute. . . .” + </p> + <p> + The horse turned, danced, and retired sideways; the messenger raised his + hat once more, and in an instant disappeared with his strange horse behind + the church. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil does it mean?” grumbled some of the officers, dispersing + to their quarters. “One is sleepy, and here this Von Rabbek with his tea! + We know what tea means.” + </p> + <p> + The officers of all the six batteries remembered vividly an incident of + the previous year, when during manoeuvres they, together with the officers + of a Cossack regiment, were in the same way invited to tea by a count who + had an estate in the neighbourhood and was a retired army officer: the + hospitable and genial count made much of them, fed them, and gave them + drink, refused to let them go to their quarters in the village and made + them stay the night. All that, of course, was very nice—nothing + better could be desired, but the worst of it was, the old army officer was + so carried away by the pleasure of the young men’s company that till + sunrise he was telling the officers anecdotes of his glorious past, taking + them over the house, showing them expensive pictures, old engravings, rare + guns, reading them autograph letters from great people, while the weary + and exhausted officers looked and listened, longing for their beds and + yawning in their sleeves; when at last their host let them go, it was too + late for sleep. + </p> + <p> + Might not this Von Rabbek be just such another? Whether he were or not, + there was no help for it. The officers changed their uniforms, brushed + themselves, and went all together in search of the gentleman’s house. In + the square by the church they were told they could get to His Excellency’s + by the lower path—going down behind the church to the river, going + along the bank to the garden, and there an avenue would taken them to the + house; or by the upper way— straight from the church by the road + which, half a mile from the village, led right up to His Excellency’s + granaries. The officers decided to go by the upper way. + </p> + <p> + “What Von Rabbek is it?” they wondered on the way. “Surely not the one who + was in command of the N—— cavalry division at Plevna?” + </p> + <p> + “No, that was not Von Rabbek, but simply Rabbe and no ‘von.’” + </p> + <p> + “What lovely weather!” + </p> + <p> + At the first of the granaries the road divided in two: one branch went + straight on and vanished in the evening darkness, the other led to the + owner’s house on the right. The officers turned to the right and began to + speak more softly. . . . On both sides of the road stretched stone + granaries with red roofs, heavy and sullen-looking, very much like + barracks of a district town. Ahead of them gleamed the windows of the + manor-house. + </p> + <p> + “A good omen, gentlemen,” said one of the officers. “Our setter is the + foremost of all; no doubt he scents game ahead of us! . . .” + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Lobytko, who was walking in front, a tall and stalwart fellow, + though entirely without moustache (he was over five-and-twenty, yet for + some reason there was no sign of hair on his round, well-fed face), + renowned in the brigade for his peculiar faculty for divining the presence + of women at a distance, turned round and said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there must be women here; I feel that by instinct.” + </p> + <p> + On the threshold the officers were met by Von Rabbek himself, a + comely-looking man of sixty in civilian dress. Shaking hands with his + guests, he said that he was very glad and happy to see them, but begged + them earnestly for God’s sake to excuse him for not asking them to stay + the night; two sisters with their children, some brothers, and some + neighbours, had come on a visit to him, so that he had not one spare room + left. + </p> + <p> + The General shook hands with every one, made his apologies, and smiled, + but it was evident by his face that he was by no means so delighted as + their last year’s count, and that he had invited the officers simply + because, in his opinion, it was a social obligation to do so. And the + officers themselves, as they walked up the softly carpeted stairs, as they + listened to him, felt that they had been invited to this house simply + because it would have been awkward not to invite them; and at the sight of + the footmen, who hastened to light the lamps in the entrance below and in + the anteroom above, they began to feel as though they had brought + uneasiness and discomfort into the house with them. In a house in which + two sisters and their children, brothers, and neighbours were gathered + together, probably on account of some family festivity, or event, how + could the presence of nineteen unknown officers possibly be welcome? + </p> + <p> + At the entrance to the drawing-room the officers were met by a tall, + graceful old lady with black eyebrows and a long face, very much like the + Empress Eugénie. Smiling graciously and majestically, she said she was + glad and happy to see her guests, and apologized that her husband and she + were on this occasion unable to invite <i>messieurs les officiers</i> to + stay the night. From her beautiful majestic smile, which instantly + vanished from her face every time she turned away from her guests, it was + evident that she had seen numbers of officers in her day, that she was in + no humour for them now, and if she invited them to her house and + apologized for not doing more, it was only because her breeding and + position in society required it of her. + </p> + <p> + When the officers went into the big dining-room, there were about a dozen + people, men and ladies, young and old, sitting at tea at the end of a long + table. A group of men was dimly visible behind their chairs, wrapped in a + haze of cigar smoke; and in the midst of them stood a lanky young man with + red whiskers, talking loudly, with a lisp, in English. Through a door + beyond the group could be seen a light room with pale blue furniture. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, there are so many of you that it is impossible to introduce + you all!” said the General in a loud voice, trying to sound very cheerful. + “Make each other’s acquaintance, gentlemen, without any ceremony!” + </p> + <p> + The officers—some with very serious and even stern faces, others + with forced smiles, and all feeling extremely awkward—somehow made + their bows and sat down to tea. + </p> + <p> + The most ill at ease of them all was Ryabovitch—a little officer in + spectacles, with sloping shoulders, and whiskers like a lynx’s. While some + of his comrades assumed a serious expression, while others wore forced + smiles, his face, his lynx-like whiskers, and spectacles seemed to say: “I + am the shyest, most modest, and most undistinguished officer in the whole + brigade!” At first, on going into the room and sitting down to the table, + he could not fix his attention on any one face or object. The faces, the + dresses, the cut-glass decanters of brandy, the steam from the glasses, + the moulded cornices—all blended in one general impression that + inspired in Ryabovitch alarm and a desire to hide his head. Like a + lecturer making his first appearance before the public, he saw everything + that was before his eyes, but apparently only had a dim understanding of + it (among physiologists this condition, when the subject sees but does not + understand, is called psychical blindness). After a little while, growing + accustomed to his surroundings, Ryabovitch saw clearly and began to + observe. As a shy man, unused to society, what struck him first was that + in which he had always been deficient—namely, the extraordinary + boldness of his new acquaintances. Von Rabbek, his wife, two elderly + ladies, a young lady in a lilac dress, and the young man with the red + whiskers, who was, it appeared, a younger son of Von Rabbek, very + cleverly, as though they had rehearsed it beforehand, took seats between + the officers, and at once got up a heated discussion in which the visitors + could not help taking part. The lilac young lady hotly asserted that the + artillery had a much better time than the cavalry and the infantry, while + Von Rabbek and the elderly ladies maintained the opposite. A brisk + interchange of talk followed. Ryabovitch watched the lilac young lady who + argued so hotly about what was unfamiliar and utterly uninteresting to + her, and watched artificial smiles come and go on her face. + </p> + <p> + Von Rabbek and his family skilfully drew the officers into the discussion, + and meanwhile kept a sharp lookout over their glasses and mouths, to see + whether all of them were drinking, whether all had enough sugar, why some + one was not eating cakes or not drinking brandy. And the longer Ryabovitch + watched and listened, the more he was attracted by this insincere but + splendidly disciplined family. + </p> + <p> + After tea the officers went into the drawing-room. Lieutenant Lobytko’s + instinct had not deceived him. There were a great number of girls and + young married ladies. The “setter” lieutenant was soon standing by a very + young, fair girl in a black dress, and, bending down to her jauntily, as + though leaning on an unseen sword, smiled and shrugged his shoulders + coquettishly. He probably talked very interesting nonsense, for the fair + girl looked at his well-fed face condescendingly and asked indifferently, + “Really?” And from that uninterested “Really?” the setter, had he been + intelligent, might have concluded that she would never call him to heel. + </p> + <p> + The piano struck up; the melancholy strains of a valse floated out of the + wide open windows, and every one, for some reason, remembered that it was + spring, a May evening. Every one was conscious of the fragrance of roses, + of lilac, and of the young leaves of the poplar. Ryabovitch, in whom the + brandy he had drunk made itself felt, under the influence of the music + stole a glance towards the window, smiled, and began watching the + movements of the women, and it seemed to him that the smell of roses, of + poplars, and lilac came not from the garden, but from the ladies’ faces + and dresses. + </p> + <p> + Von Rabbek’s son invited a scraggy-looking young lady to dance, and + waltzed round the room twice with her. Lobytko, gliding over the parquet + floor, flew up to the lilac young lady and whirled her away. Dancing + began. . . . Ryabovitch stood near the door among those who were not + dancing and looked on. He had never once danced in his whole life, and he + had never once in his life put his arm round the waist of a respectable + woman. He was highly delighted that a man should in the sight of all take + a girl he did not know round the waist and offer her his shoulder to put + her hand on, but he could not imagine himself in the position of such a + man. There were times when he envied the boldness and swagger of his + companions and was inwardly wretched; the consciousness that he was timid, + that he was round-shouldered and uninteresting, that he had a long waist + and lynx-like whiskers, had deeply mortified him, but with years he had + grown used to this feeling, and now, looking at his comrades dancing or + loudly talking, he no longer envied them, but only felt touched and + mournful. + </p> + <p> + When the quadrille began, young Von Rabbek came up to those who were not + dancing and invited two officers to have a game at billiards. The officers + accepted and went with him out of the drawing-room. Ryabovitch, having + nothing to do and wishing to take part in the general movement, slouched + after them. From the big drawing-room they went into the little + drawing-room, then into a narrow corridor with a glass roof, and thence + into a room in which on their entrance three sleepy-looking footmen jumped + up quickly from the sofa. At last, after passing through a long succession + of rooms, young Von Rabbek and the officers came into a small room where + there was a billiard-table. They began to play. + </p> + <p> + Ryabovitch, who had never played any game but cards, stood near the + billiard-table and looked indifferently at the players, while they in + unbuttoned coats, with cues in their hands, stepped about, made puns, and + kept shouting out unintelligible words. + </p> + <p> + The players took no notice of him, and only now and then one of them, + shoving him with his elbow or accidentally touching him with the end of + his cue, would turn round and say “Pardon!” Before the first game was over + he was weary of it, and began to feel he was not wanted and in the way. . + . . He felt disposed to return to the drawing-room, and he went out. + </p> + <p> + On his way back he met with a little adventure. When he had gone half-way + he noticed he had taken a wrong turning. He distinctly remembered that he + ought to meet three sleepy footmen on his way, but he had passed five or + six rooms, and those sleepy figures seemed to have vanished into the + earth. Noticing his mistake, he walked back a little way and turned to the + right; he found himself in a little dark room which he had not seen on his + way to the billiard-room. After standing there a little while, he + resolutely opened the first door that met his eyes and walked into an + absolutely dark room. Straight in front could be seen the crack in the + doorway through which there was a gleam of vivid light; from the other + side of the door came the muffled sound of a melancholy mazurka. Here, + too, as in the drawing-room, the windows were wide open and there was a + smell of poplars, lilac and roses. . . . + </p> + <p> + Ryabovitch stood still in hesitation. . . . At that moment, to his + surprise, he heard hurried footsteps and the rustling of a dress, a + breathless feminine voice whispered “At last!” And two soft, fragrant, + unmistakably feminine arms were clasped about his neck; a warm cheek was + pressed to his cheek, and simultaneously there was the sound of a kiss. + But at once the bestower of the kiss uttered a faint shriek and skipped + back from him, as it seemed to Ryabovitch, with aversion. He, too, almost + shrieked and rushed towards the gleam of light at the door. . . . + </p> + <p> + When he went back into the drawing-room his heart was beating and his + hands were trembling so noticeably that he made haste to hide them behind + his back. At first he was tormented by shame and dread that the whole + drawing-room knew that he had just been kissed and embraced by a woman. He + shrank into himself and looked uneasily about him, but as he became + convinced that people were dancing and talking as calmly as ever, he gave + himself up entirely to the new sensation which he had never experienced + before in his life. Something strange was happening to him. . . . His + neck, round which soft, fragrant arms had so lately been clasped, seemed + to him to be anointed with oil; on his left cheek near his moustache where + the unknown had kissed him there was a faint chilly tingling sensation as + from peppermint drops, and the more he rubbed the place the more distinct + was the chilly sensation; all over, from head to foot, he was full of a + strange new feeling which grew stronger and stronger . . . . He wanted to + dance, to talk, to run into the garden, to laugh aloud. . . . He quite + forgot that he was round-shouldered and uninteresting, that he had + lynx-like whiskers and an “undistinguished appearance” (that was how his + appearance had been described by some ladies whose conversation he had + accidentally overheard). When Von Rabbek’s wife happened to pass by him, + he gave her such a broad and friendly smile that she stood still and + looked at him inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “I like your house immensely!” he said, setting his spectacles straight. + </p> + <p> + The General’s wife smiled and said that the house had belonged to her + father; then she asked whether his parents were living, whether he had + long been in the army, why he was so thin, and so on. . . . After + receiving answers to her questions, she went on, and after his + conversation with her his smiles were more friendly than ever, and he + thought he was surrounded by splendid people. . . . + </p> + <p> + At supper Ryabovitch ate mechanically everything offered him, drank, and + without listening to anything, tried to understand what had just happened + to him. . . . The adventure was of a mysterious and romantic character, + but it was not difficult to explain it. No doubt some girl or young + married lady had arranged a tryst with some one in the dark room; had + waited a long time, and being nervous and excited had taken Ryabovitch for + her hero; this was the more probable as Ryabovitch had stood still + hesitating in the dark room, so that he, too, had seemed like a person + expecting something. . . . This was how Ryabovitch explained to himself + the kiss he had received. + </p> + <p> + “And who is she?” he wondered, looking round at the women’s faces. “She + must be young, for elderly ladies don’t give rendezvous. That she was a + lady, one could tell by the rustle of her dress, her perfume, her voice. . + . .” + </p> + <p> + His eyes rested on the lilac young lady, and he thought her very + attractive; she had beautiful shoulders and arms, a clever face, and a + delightful voice. Ryabovitch, looking at her, hoped that she and no one + else was his unknown. . . . But she laughed somehow artificially and + wrinkled up her long nose, which seemed to him to make her look old. Then + he turned his eyes upon the fair girl in a black dress. She was younger, + simpler, and more genuine, had a charming brow, and drank very daintily + out of her wineglass. Ryabovitch now hoped that it was she. But soon he + began to think her face flat, and fixed his eyes upon the one next her. + </p> + <p> + “It’s difficult to guess,” he thought, musing. “If one takes the shoulders + and arms of the lilac one only, adds the brow of the fair one and the eyes + of the one on the left of Lobytko, then . . .” + </p> + <p> + He made a combination of these things in his mind and so formed the image + of the girl who had kissed him, the image that he wanted her to have, but + could not find at the table. . . . + </p> + <p> + After supper, replete and exhilarated, the officers began to take leave + and say thank you. Von Rabbek and his wife began again apologizing that + they could not ask them to stay the night. + </p> + <p> + “Very, very glad to have met you, gentlemen,” said Von Rabbek, and this + time sincerely (probably because people are far more sincere and + good-humoured at speeding their parting guests than on meeting them). + “Delighted. I hope you will come on your way back! Don’t stand on + ceremony! Where are you going? Do you want to go by the upper way? No, go + across the garden; it’s nearer here by the lower way.” + </p> + <p> + The officers went out into the garden. After the bright light and the + noise the garden seemed very dark and quiet. They walked in silence all + the way to the gate. They were a little drunk, pleased, and in good + spirits, but the darkness and silence made them thoughtful for a minute. + Probably the same idea occurred to each one of them as to Ryabovitch: + would there ever come a time for them when, like Von Rabbek, they would + have a large house, a family, a garden— when they, too, would be + able to welcome people, even though insincerely, feed them, make them + drunk and contented? + </p> + <p> + Going out of the garden gate, they all began talking at once and laughing + loudly about nothing. They were walking now along the little path that led + down to the river, and then ran along the water’s edge, winding round the + bushes on the bank, the pools, and the willows that overhung the water. + The bank and the path were scarcely visible, and the other bank was + entirely plunged in darkness. Stars were reflected here and there on the + dark water; they quivered and were broken up on the surface—and from + that alone it could be seen that the river was flowing rapidly. It was + still. Drowsy curlews cried plaintively on the further bank, and in one of + the bushes on the nearest side a nightingale was trilling loudly, taking + no notice of the crowd of officers. The officers stood round the bush, + touched it, but the nightingale went on singing. + </p> + <p> + “What a fellow!” they exclaimed approvingly. “We stand beside him and he + takes not a bit of notice! What a rascal!” + </p> + <p> + At the end of the way the path went uphill, and, skirting the church + enclosure, turned into the road. Here the officers, tired with walking + uphill, sat down and lighted their cigarettes. On the other side of the + river a murky red fire came into sight, and having nothing better to do, + they spent a long time in discussing whether it was a camp fire or a light + in a window, or something else. . . . Ryabovitch, too, looked at the + light, and he fancied that the light looked and winked at him, as though + it knew about the kiss. + </p> + <p> + On reaching his quarters, Ryabovitch undressed as quickly as possible and + got into bed. Lobytko and Lieutenant Merzlyakov—a peaceable, silent + fellow, who was considered in his own circle a highly educated officer, + and was always, whenever it was possible, reading the “Vyestnik Evropi,” + which he carried about with him everywhere— were quartered in the + same hut with Ryabovitch. Lobytko undressed, walked up and down the room + for a long while with the air of a man who has not been satisfied, and + sent his orderly for beer. Merzlyakov got into bed, put a candle by his + pillow and plunged into reading the “Vyestnik Evropi.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was she?” Ryabovitch wondered, looking at the smoky ceiling. + </p> + <p> + His neck still felt as though he had been anointed with oil, and there was + still the chilly sensation near his mouth as though from peppermint drops. + The shoulders and arms of the young lady in lilac, the brow and the + truthful eyes of the fair girl in black, waists, dresses, and brooches, + floated through his imagination. He tried to fix his attention on these + images, but they danced about, broke up and flickered. When these images + vanished altogether from the broad dark background which every man sees + when he closes his eyes, he began to hear hurried footsteps, the rustle of + skirts, the sound of a kiss and—an intense groundless joy took + possession of him . . . . Abandoning himself to this joy, he heard the + orderly return and announce that there was no beer. Lobytko was terribly + indignant, and began pacing up and down again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, isn’t he an idiot?” he kept saying, stopping first before + Ryabovitch and then before Merzlyakov. “What a fool and a dummy a man must + be not to get hold of any beer! Eh? Isn’t he a scoundrel?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you can’t get beer here,” said Merzlyakov, not removing his + eyes from the “Vyestnik Evropi.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Is that your opinion?” Lobytko persisted. “Lord have mercy upon us, + if you dropped me on the moon I’d find you beer and women directly! I’ll + go and find some at once. . . . You may call me an impostor if I don’t!” + </p> + <p> + He spent a long time in dressing and pulling on his high boots, then + finished smoking his cigarette in silence and went out. + </p> + <p> + “Rabbek, Grabbek, Labbek,” he muttered, stopping in the outer room. “I + don’t care to go alone, damn it all! Ryabovitch, wouldn’t you like to go + for a walk? Eh?” + </p> + <p> + Receiving no answer, he returned, slowly undressed and got into bed. + Merzlyakov sighed, put the “Vyestnik Evropi” away, and put out the light. + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . .” muttered Lobytko, lighting a cigarette in the dark. + </p> + <p> + Ryabovitch pulled the bed-clothes over his head, curled himself up in bed, + and tried to gather together the floating images in his mind and to + combine them into one whole. But nothing came of it. He soon fell asleep, + and his last thought was that some one had caressed him and made him happy—that + something extraordinary, foolish, but joyful and delightful, had come into + his life. The thought did not leave him even in his sleep. + </p> + <p> + When he woke up the sensations of oil on his neck and the chill of + peppermint about his lips had gone, but joy flooded his heart just as the + day before. He looked enthusiastically at the window-frames, gilded by the + light of the rising sun, and listened to the movement of the passers-by in + the street. People were talking loudly close to the window. Lebedetsky, + the commander of Ryabovitch’s battery, who had only just overtaken the + brigade, was talking to his sergeant at the top of his voice, being always + accustomed to shout. + </p> + <p> + “What else?” shouted the commander. + </p> + <p> + “When they were shoeing yesterday, your high nobility, they drove a nail + into Pigeon’s hoof. The vet. put on clay and vinegar; they are leading him + apart now. And also, your honour, Artemyev got drunk yesterday, and the + lieutenant ordered him to be put in the limber of a spare gun-carriage.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant reported that Karpov had forgotten the new cords for the + trumpets and the rings for the tents, and that their honours, the + officers, had spent the previous evening visiting General Von Rabbek. In + the middle of this conversation the red-bearded face of Lebedetsky + appeared in the window. He screwed up his short-sighted eyes, looking at + the sleepy faces of the officers, and said good-morning to them. + </p> + <p> + “Is everything all right?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “One of the horses has a sore neck from the new collar,” answered Lobytko, + yawning. + </p> + <p> + The commander sighed, thought a moment, and said in a loud voice: + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of going to see Alexandra Yevgrafovna. I must call on her. + Well, good-bye. I shall catch you up in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later the brigade set off on its way. When it was + moving along the road by the granaries, Ryabovitch looked at the house on + the right. The blinds were down in all the windows. Evidently the + household was still asleep. The one who had kissed Ryabovitch the day + before was asleep, too. He tried to imagine her asleep. The wide-open + windows of the bedroom, the green branches peeping in, the morning + freshness, the scent of the poplars, lilac, and roses, the bed, a chair, + and on it the skirts that had rustled the day before, the little slippers, + the little watch on the table —all this he pictured to himself + clearly and distinctly, but the features of the face, the sweet sleepy + smile, just what was characteristic and important, slipped through his + imagination like quicksilver through the fingers. When he had ridden on + half a mile, he looked back: the yellow church, the house, and the river, + were all bathed in light; the river with its bright green banks, with the + blue sky reflected in it and glints of silver in the sunshine here and + there, was very beautiful. Ryabovitch gazed for the last time at + Myestetchki, and he felt as sad as though he were parting with something + very near and dear to him. + </p> + <p> + And before him on the road lay nothing but long familiar, uninteresting + pictures. . . . To right and to left, fields of young rye and buckwheat + with rooks hopping about in them. If one looked ahead, one saw dust and + the backs of men’s heads; if one looked back, one saw the same dust and + faces. . . . Foremost of all marched four men with sabres—this was + the vanguard. Next, behind, the crowd of singers, and behind them the + trumpeters on horseback. The vanguard and the chorus of singers, like + torch-bearers in a funeral procession, often forgot to keep the regulation + distance and pushed a long way ahead. . . . Ryabovitch was with the first + cannon of the fifth battery. He could see all the four batteries moving in + front of him. For any one not a military man this long tedious procession + of a moving brigade seems an intricate and unintelligible muddle; one + cannot understand why there are so many people round one cannon, and why + it is drawn by so many horses in such a strange network of harness, as + though it really were so terrible and heavy. To Ryabovitch it was all + perfectly comprehensible and therefore uninteresting. He had known for + ever so long why at the head of each battery there rode a stalwart + bombardier, and why he was called a bombardier; immediately behind this + bombardier could be seen the horsemen of the first and then of the middle + units. Ryabovitch knew that the horses on which they rode, those on the + left, were called one name, while those on the right were called another—it + was extremely uninteresting. Behind the horsemen came two shaft-horses. On + one of them sat a rider with the dust of yesterday on his back and a + clumsy and funny-looking piece of wood on his leg. Ryabovitch knew the + object of this piece of wood, and did not think it funny. All the riders + waved their whips mechanically and shouted from time to time. The cannon + itself was ugly. On the fore part lay sacks of oats covered with canvas, + and the cannon itself was hung all over with kettles, soldiers’ knapsacks, + bags, and looked like some small harmless animal surrounded for some + unknown reason by men and horses. To the leeward of it marched six men, + the gunners, swinging their arms. After the cannon there came again more + bombardiers, riders, shaft-horses, and behind them another cannon, as ugly + and unimpressive as the first. After the second followed a third, a + fourth; near the fourth an officer, and so on. There were six batteries in + all in the brigade, and four cannons in each battery. The procession + covered half a mile; it ended in a string of wagons near which an + extremely attractive creature—the ass, Magar, brought by a battery + commander from Turkey—paced pensively with his long-eared head + drooping. + </p> + <p> + Ryabovitch looked indifferently before and behind, at the backs of heads + and at faces; at any other time he would have been half asleep, but now he + was entirely absorbed in his new agreeable thoughts. At first when the + brigade was setting off on the march he tried to persuade himself that the + incident of the kiss could only be interesting as a mysterious little + adventure, that it was in reality trivial, and to think of it seriously, + to say the least of it, was stupid; but now he bade farewell to logic and + gave himself up to dreams. . . . At one moment he imagined himself in Von + Rabbek’s drawing-room beside a girl who was like the young lady in lilac + and the fair girl in black; then he would close his eyes and see himself + with another, entirely unknown girl, whose features were very vague. In + his imagination he talked, caressed her, leaned on her shoulder, pictured + war, separation, then meeting again, supper with his wife, children. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Brakes on!” the word of command rang out every time they went downhill. + </p> + <p> + He, too, shouted “Brakes on!” and was afraid this shout would disturb his + reverie and bring him back to reality. . . . + </p> + <p> + As they passed by some landowner’s estate Ryabovitch looked over the fence + into the garden. A long avenue, straight as a ruler, strewn with yellow + sand and bordered with young birch-trees, met his eyes. . . . With the + eagerness of a man given up to dreaming, he pictured to himself little + feminine feet tripping along yellow sand, and quite unexpectedly had a + clear vision in his imagination of the girl who had kissed him and whom he + had succeeded in picturing to himself the evening before at supper. This + image remained in his brain and did not desert him again. + </p> + <p> + At midday there was a shout in the rear near the string of wagons: + </p> + <p> + “Easy! Eyes to the left! Officers!” + </p> + <p> + The general of the brigade drove by in a carriage with a pair of white + horses. He stopped near the second battery, and shouted something which no + one understood. Several officers, among them Ryabovitch, galloped up to + them. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked the general, blinking his red eyes. “Are there any sick?” + </p> + <p> + Receiving an answer, the general, a little skinny man, chewed, thought for + a moment and said, addressing one of the officers: + </p> + <p> + “One of your drivers of the third cannon has taken off his leg-guard and + hung it on the fore part of the cannon, the rascal. Reprimand him.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes to Ryabovitch and went on: + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me your front strap is too long.” + </p> + <p> + Making a few other tedious remarks, the general looked at Lobytko and + grinned. + </p> + <p> + “You look very melancholy today, Lieutenant Lobytko,” he said. “Are you + pining for Madame Lopuhov? Eh? Gentlemen, he is pining for Madame + Lopuhov.” + </p> + <p> + The lady in question was a very stout and tall person who had long passed + her fortieth year. The general, who had a predilection for solid ladies, + whatever their ages, suspected a similar taste in his officers. The + officers smiled respectfully. The general, delighted at having said + something very amusing and biting, laughed loudly, touched his coachman’s + back, and saluted. The carriage rolled on. . . . + </p> + <p> + “All I am dreaming about now which seems to me so impossible and unearthly + is really quite an ordinary thing,” thought Ryabovitch, looking at the + clouds of dust racing after the general’s carriage. “It’s all very + ordinary, and every one goes through it. . . . That general, for instance, + has once been in love; now he is married and has children. Captain Vahter, + too, is married and beloved, though the nape of his neck is very red and + ugly and he has no waist. . . . Salrnanov is coarse and very Tatar, but he + has had a love affair that has ended in marriage. . . . I am the same as + every one else, and I, too, shall have the same experience as every one + else, sooner or later. . . .” + </p> + <p> + And the thought that he was an ordinary person, and that his life was + ordinary, delighted him and gave him courage. He pictured her and his + happiness as he pleased, and put no rein on his imagination. + </p> + <p> + When the brigade reached their halting-place in the evening, and the + officers were resting in their tents, Ryabovitch, Merzlyakov, and Lobytko + were sitting round a box having supper. Merzlyakov ate without haste, and, + as he munched deliberately, read the “Vyestnik Evropi,” which he held on + his knees. Lobytko talked incessantly and kept filling up his glass with + beer, and Ryabovitch, whose head was confused from dreaming all day long, + drank and said nothing. After three glasses he got a little drunk, felt + weak, and had an irresistible desire to impart his new sensations to his + comrades. + </p> + <p> + “A strange thing happened to me at those Von Rabbeks’,” he began, trying + to put an indifferent and ironical tone into his voice. “You know I went + into the billiard-room. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He began describing very minutely the incident of the kiss, and a moment + later relapsed into silence. . . . In the course of that moment he had + told everything, and it surprised him dreadfully to find how short a time + it took him to tell it. He had imagined that he could have been telling + the story of the kiss till next morning. Listening to him, Lobytko, who + was a great liar and consequently believed no one, looked at him + sceptically and laughed. Merzlyakov twitched his eyebrows and, without + removing his eyes from the “Vyestnik Evropi,” said: + </p> + <p> + “That’s an odd thing! How strange! . . . throws herself on a man’s neck, + without addressing him by name. .. . She must be some sort of hysterical + neurotic.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she must,” Ryabovitch agreed. + </p> + <p> + “A similar thing once happened to me,” said Lobytko, assuming a scared + expression. “I was going last year to Kovno. . . . I took a second-class + ticket. The train was crammed, and it was impossible to sleep. I gave the + guard half a rouble; he took my luggage and led me to another compartment. + . . . I lay down and covered myself with a rug. . . . It was dark, you + understand. Suddenly I felt some one touch me on the shoulder and breathe + in my face. I made a movement with my hand and felt somebody’s elbow. . . + . I opened my eyes and only imagine—a woman. Black eyes, lips red as + a prime salmon, nostrils breathing passionately—a bosom like a + buffer. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” Merzlyakov interrupted calmly, “I understand about the bosom, + but how could you see the lips if it was dark?” + </p> + <p> + Lobytko began trying to put himself right and laughing at Merzlyakov’s + unimaginativeness. It made Ryabovitch wince. He walked away from the box, + got into bed, and vowed never to confide again. + </p> + <p> + Camp life began. . . . The days flowed by, one very much like another. All + those days Ryabovitch felt, thought, and behaved as though he were in + love. Every morning when his orderly handed him water to wash with, and he + sluiced his head with cold water, he thought there was something warm and + delightful in his life. + </p> + <p> + In the evenings when his comrades began talking of love and women, he + would listen, and draw up closer; and he wore the expression of a soldier + when he hears the description of a battle in which he has taken part. And + on the evenings when the officers, out on the spree with the setter—Lobytko—at + their head, made Don Juan excursions to the “suburb,” and Ryabovitch took + part in such excursions, he always was sad, felt profoundly guilty, and + inwardly begged <i>her</i> forgiveness. . . . In hours of leisure or on + sleepless nights, when he felt moved to recall his childhood, his father + and mother— everything near and dear, in fact, he invariably thought + of Myestetchki, the strange horse, Von Rabbek, his wife who was like the + Empress Eugénie, the dark room, the crack of light at the door. . . . + </p> + <p> + On the thirty-first of August he went back from the camp, not with the + whole brigade, but with only two batteries of it. He was dreaming and + excited all the way, as though he were going back to his native place. He + had an intense longing to see again the strange horse, the church, the + insincere family of the Von Rabbeks, the dark room. The “inner voice,” + which so often deceives lovers, whispered to him for some reason that he + would be sure to see her . . . and he was tortured by the questions, How + he should meet her? What he would talk to her about? Whether she had + forgotten the kiss? If the worst came to the worst, he thought, even if he + did not meet her, it would be a pleasure to him merely to go through the + dark room and recall the past. . . . + </p> + <p> + Towards evening there appeared on the horizon the familiar church and + white granaries. Ryabovitch’s heart beat. . . . He did not hear the + officer who was riding beside him and saying something to him, he forgot + everything, and looked eagerly at the river shining in the distance, at + the roof of the house, at the dovecote round which the pigeons were + circling in the light of the setting sun. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the church and were listening to the billeting orders, + he expected every second that a man on horseback would come round the + church enclosure and invite the officers to tea, but . . . the billeting + orders were read, the officers were in haste to go on to the village, and + the man on horseback did not appear. + </p> + <p> + “Von Rabbek will hear at once from the peasants that we have come and will + send for us,” thought Ryabovitch, as he went into the hut, unable to + understand why a comrade was lighting a candle and why the orderlies were + hurriedly setting samovars. . . . + </p> + <p> + A painful uneasiness took possession of him. He lay down, then got up and + looked out of the window to see whether the messenger were coming. But + there was no sign of him. + </p> + <p> + He lay down again, but half an hour later he got up, and, unable to + restrain his uneasiness, went into the street and strode towards the + church. It was dark and deserted in the square near the church . . . . + Three soldiers were standing silent in a row where the road began to go + downhill. Seeing Ryabovitch, they roused themselves and saluted. He + returned the salute and began to go down the familiar path. + </p> + <p> + On the further side of the river the whole sky was flooded with crimson: + the moon was rising; two peasant women, talking loudly, were picking + cabbage in the kitchen garden; behind the kitchen garden there were some + dark huts. . . . And everything on the near side of the river was just as + it had been in May: the path, the bushes, the willows overhanging the + water . . . but there was no sound of the brave nightingale, and no scent + of poplar and fresh grass. + </p> + <p> + Reaching the garden, Ryabovitch looked in at the gate. The garden was dark + and still. . . . He could see nothing but the white stems of the nearest + birch-trees and a little bit of the avenue; all the rest melted together + into a dark blur. Ryabovitch looked and listened eagerly, but after + waiting for a quarter of an hour without hearing a sound or catching a + glimpse of a light, he trudged back. . . . + </p> + <p> + He went down to the river. The General’s bath-house and the bath-sheets on + the rail of the little bridge showed white before him. . . . He went on to + the bridge, stood a little, and, quite unnecessarily, touched the sheets. + They felt rough and cold. He looked down at the water. . . . The river ran + rapidly and with a faintly audible gurgle round the piles of the + bath-house. The red moon was reflected near the left bank; little ripples + ran over the reflection, stretching it out, breaking it into bits, and + seemed trying to carry it away. + </p> + <p> + “How stupid, how stupid!” thought Ryabovitch, looking at the running + water. “How unintelligent it all is!” + </p> + <p> + Now that he expected nothing, the incident of the kiss, his impatience, + his vague hopes and disappointment, presented themselves in a clear light. + It no longer seemed to him strange that he had not seen the General’s + messenger, and that he would never see the girl who had accidentally + kissed him instead of some one else; on the contrary, it would have been + strange if he had seen her. . . . + </p> + <p> + The water was running, he knew not where or why, just as it did in May. In + May it had flowed into the great river, from the great river into the sea; + then it had risen in vapour, turned into rain, and perhaps the very same + water was running now before Ryabovitch’s eyes again. . . . What for? Why? + </p> + <p> + And the whole world, the whole of life, seemed to Ryabovitch an + unintelligible, aimless jest. . . . And turning his eyes from the water + and looking at the sky, he remembered again how fate in the person of an + unknown woman had by chance caressed him, he remembered his summer dreams + and fancies, and his life struck him as extraordinarily meagre, + poverty-stricken, and colourless. . . . + </p> + <p> + When he went back to his hut he did not find one of his comrades. The + orderly informed him that they had all gone to “General von Rabbek’s, who + had sent a messenger on horseback to invite them. . . .” + </p> + <p> + For an instant there was a flash of joy in Ryabovitch’s heart, but he + quenched it at once, got into bed, and in his wrath with his fate, as + though to spite it, did not go to the General’s. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ‘ANNA ON THE NECK’ + </h2> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>FTER the wedding + they had not even light refreshments; the happy pair simply drank a glass + of champagne, changed into their travelling things, and drove to the + station. Instead of a gay wedding ball and supper, instead of music and + dancing, they went on a journey to pray at a shrine a hundred and fifty + miles away. Many people commended this, saying that Modest Alexeitch was a + man high up in the service and no longer young, and that a noisy wedding + might not have seemed quite suitable; and music is apt to sound dreary + when a government official of fifty-two marries a girl who is only just + eighteen. People said, too, that Modest Alexeitch, being a man of + principle, had arranged this visit to the monastery expressly in order to + make his young bride realize that even in marriage he put religion and + morality above everything. + </p> + <p> + The happy pair were seen off at the station. The crowd of relations and + colleagues in the service stood, with glasses in their hands, waiting for + the train to start to shout “Hurrah!” and the bride’s father, Pyotr + Leontyitch, wearing a top-hat and the uniform of a teacher, already drunk + and very pale, kept craning towards the window, glass in hand and saying + in an imploring voice: + </p> + <p> + “Anyuta! Anya, Anya! one word!” + </p> + <p> + Anna bent out of the window to him, and he whispered something to her, + enveloping her in a stale smell of alcohol, blew into her ear —she + could make out nothing—and made the sign of the cross over her face, + her bosom, and her hands; meanwhile he was breathing in gasps and tears + were shining in his eyes. And the schoolboys, Anna’s brothers, Petya and + Andrusha, pulled at his coat from behind, whispering in confusion: + </p> + <p> + “Father, hush! . . . Father, that’s enough. . . .” + </p> + <p> + When the train started, Anna saw her father run a little way after the + train, staggering and spilling his wine, and what a kind, guilty, pitiful + face he had: + </p> + <p> + “Hurra—ah!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + The happy pair were left alone. Modest Alexeitch looked about the + compartment, arranged their things on the shelves, and sat down, smiling, + opposite his young wife. He was an official of medium height, rather stout + and puffy, who looked exceedingly well nourished, with long whiskers and + no moustache. His clean-shaven, round, sharply defined chin looked like + the heel of a foot. The most characteristic point in his face was the + absence of moustache, the bare, freshly shaven place, which gradually + passed into the fat cheeks, quivering like jelly. His deportment was + dignified, his movements were deliberate, his manner was soft. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help remembering now one circumstance,” he said, smiling. “When, + five years ago, Kosorotov received the order of St. Anna of the second + grade, and went to thank His Excellency, His Excellency expressed himself + as follows: ‘So now you have three Annas: one in your buttonhole and two + on your neck.’ And it must be explained that at that time Kosorotov’s + wife, a quarrelsome and frivolous person, had just returned to him, and + that her name was Anna. I trust that when I receive the Anna of the second + grade His Excellency will not have occasion to say the same thing to me.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled with his little eyes. And she, too, smiled, troubled at the + thought that at any moment this man might kiss her with his thick damp + lips, and that she had no right to prevent his doing so. The soft + movements of his fat person frightened her; she felt both fear and + disgust. He got up, without haste took off the order from his neck, took + off his coat and waistcoat, and put on his dressing-gown. + </p> + <p> + “That’s better,” he said, sitting down beside Anna. + </p> + <p> + Anna remembered what agony the wedding had been, when it had seemed to her + that the priest, and the guests, and every one in church had been looking + at her sorrowfully and asking why, why was she, such a sweet, nice girl, + marrying such an elderly, uninteresting gentleman. Only that morning she + was delighted that everything had been satisfactorily arranged, but at the + time of the wedding, and now in the railway carriage, she felt cheated, + guilty, and ridiculous. Here she had married a rich man and yet she had no + money, her wedding-dress had been bought on credit, and when her father + and brothers had been saying good-bye, she could see from their faces that + they had not a farthing. Would they have any supper that day? And + tomorrow? And for some reason it seemed to her that her father and the + boys were sitting tonight hungry without her, and feeling the same misery + as they had the day after their mother’s funeral. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how unhappy I am!” she thought. “Why am I so unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + With the awkwardness of a man with settled habits, unaccustomed to deal + with women, Modest Alexeitch touched her on the waist and patted her on + the shoulder, while she went on thinking about money, about her mother and + her mother’s death. When her mother died, her father, Pyotr Leontyitch, a + teacher of drawing and writing in the high school, had taken to drink, + impoverishment had followed, the boys had not had boots or goloshes, their + father had been hauled up before the magistrate, the warrant officer had + come and made an inventory of the furniture. . . . What a disgrace! Anna + had had to look after her drunken father, darn her brothers’ stockings, go + to market, and when she was complimented on her youth, her beauty, and her + elegant manners, it seemed to her that every one was looking at her cheap + hat and the holes in her boots that were inked over. And at night there + had been tears and a haunting dread that her father would soon, very soon, + be dismissed from the school for his weakness, and that he would not + survive it, but would die, too, like their mother. But ladies of their + acquaintance had taken the matter in hand and looked about for a good + match for Anna. This Modest Alexevitch, who was neither young nor + good-looking but had money, was soon found. He had a hundred thousand in + the bank and the family estate, which he had let on lease. He was a man of + principle and stood well with His Excellency; it would be nothing to him, + so they told Anna, to get a note from His Excellency to the directors of + the high school, or even to the Education Commissioner, to prevent Pyotr + Leontyitch from being dismissed. + </p> + <p> + While she was recalling these details, she suddenly heard strains of music + which floated in at the window, together with the sound of voices. The + train was stopping at a station. In the crowd beyond the platform an + accordion and a cheap squeaky fiddle were being briskly played, and the + sound of a military band came from beyond the villas and the tall birches + and poplars that lay bathed in the moonlight; there must have been a dance + in the place. Summer visitors and townspeople, who used to come out here + by train in fine weather for a breath of fresh air, were parading up and + down on the platform. Among them was the wealthy owner of all the summer + villas—a tall, stout, dark man called Artynov. He had prominent eyes + and looked like an Armenian. He wore a strange costume; his shirt was + unbuttoned, showing his chest; he wore high boots with spurs, and a black + cloak hung from his shoulders and dragged on the ground like a train. Two + boar-hounds followed him with their sharp noses to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Tears were still shining in Anna’s eyes, but she was not thinking now of + her mother, nor of money, nor of her marriage; but shaking hands with + schoolboys and officers she knew, she laughed gaily and said quickly: + </p> + <p> + “How do you do? How are you?” + </p> + <p> + She went out on to the platform between the carriages into the moonlight, + and stood so that they could all see her in her new splendid dress and + hat. + </p> + <p> + “Why are we stopping here?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “This is a junction. They are waiting for the mail train to pass.” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that Artynov was looking at her, she screwed up her eyes + coquettishly and began talking aloud in French; and because her voice + sounded so pleasant, and because she heard music and the moon was + reflected in the pond, and because Artynov, the notorious Don Juan and + spoiled child of fortune, was looking at her eagerly and with curiosity, + and because every one was in good spirits—she suddenly felt joyful, + and when the train started and the officers of her acquaintance saluted + her, she was humming the polka the strains of which reached her from the + military band playing beyond the trees; and she returned to her + compartment feeling as though it had been proved to her at the station + that she would certainly be happy in spite of everything. + </p> + <p> + The happy pair spent two days at the monastery, then went back to town. + They lived in a rent-free flat. When Modest Alexevitch had gone to the + office, Anna played the piano, or shed tears of depression, or lay down on + a couch and read novels or looked through fashion papers. At dinner Modest + Alexevitch ate a great deal and talked about politics, about appointments, + transfers, and promotions in the service, about the necessity of hard + work, and said that, family life not being a pleasure but a duty, if you + took care of the kopecks the roubles would take care of themselves, and + that he put religion and morality before everything else in the world. And + holding his knife in his fist as though it were a sword, he would say: + </p> + <p> + “Every one ought to have his duties!” + </p> + <p> + And Anna listened to him, was frightened, and could not eat, and she + usually got up from the table hungry. After dinner her husband lay down + for a nap and snored loudly, while Anna went to see her own people. Her + father and the boys looked at her in a peculiar way, as though just before + she came in they had been blaming her for having married for money a + tedious, wearisome man she did not love; her rustling skirts, her + bracelets, and her general air of a married lady, offended them and made + them uncomfortable. In her presence they felt a little embarrassed and did + not know what to talk to her about; but yet they still loved her as + before, and were not used to having dinner without her. She sat down with + them to cabbage soup, porridge, and fried potatoes, smelling of mutton + dripping. Pyotr Leontyitch filled his glass from the decanter with a + trembling hand and drank it off hurriedly, greedily, with repulsion, then + poured out a second glass and then a third. Petya and Andrusha, thin, pale + boys with big eyes, would take the decanter and say desperately: + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t, father. . . . Enough, father. . . .” + </p> + <p> + And Anna, too, was troubled and entreated him to drink no more; and he + would suddenly fly into a rage and beat the table with his fists: + </p> + <p> + “I won’t allow any one to dictate to me!” he would shout. “Wretched boys! + wretched girl! I’ll turn you all out!” + </p> + <p> + But there was a note of weakness, of good-nature in his voice, and no one + was afraid of him. After dinner he usually dressed in his best. Pale, with + a cut on his chin from shaving, craning his thin neck, he would stand for + half an hour before the glass, prinking, combing his hair, twisting his + black moustache, sprinkling himself with scent, tying his cravat in a bow; + then he would put on his gloves and his top-hat, and go off to give his + private lessons. Or if it was a holiday he would stay at home and paint, + or play the harmonium, which wheezed and growled; he would try to wrest + from it pure harmonious sounds and would sing to it; or would storm at the + boys: + </p> + <p> + “Wretches! Good-for-nothing boys! You have spoiled the instrument!” + </p> + <p> + In the evening Anna’s husband played cards with his colleagues, who lived + under the same roof in the government quarters. The wives of these + gentlemen would come in—ugly, tastelessly dressed women, as coarse + as cooks—and gossip would begin in the flat as tasteless and + unattractive as the ladies themselves. Sometimes Modest Alexevitch would + take Anna to the theatre. In the intervals he would never let her stir a + step from his side, but walked about arm in arm with her through the + corridors and the foyer. When he bowed to some one, he immediately + whispered to Anna: “A civil councillor . . . visits at His Excellency’s”; + or, “A man of means . . . has a house of his own.” When they passed the + buffet Anna had a great longing for something sweet; she was fond of + chocolate and apple cakes, but she had no money, and she did not like to + ask her husband. He would take a pear, pinch it with his fingers, and ask + uncertainly: + </p> + <p> + “How much?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-five kopecks!” + </p> + <p> + “I say!” he would reply, and put it down; but as it was awkward to leave + the buffet without buying anything, he would order some seltzer-water and + drink the whole bottle himself, and tears would come into his eyes. And + Anna hated him at such times. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly flushing crimson, he would say to her rapidly: + </p> + <p> + “Bow to that old lady!” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t know her.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter. That’s the wife of the director of the local treasury! Bow, I + tell you,” he would grumble insistently. “Your head won’t drop off.” + </p> + <p> + Anna bowed and her head certainly did not drop off, but it was agonizing. + She did everything her husband wanted her to, and was furious with herself + for having let him deceive her like the veriest idiot. She had only + married him for his money, and yet she had less money now than before her + marriage. In old days her father would sometimes give her twenty kopecks, + but now she had not a farthing. + </p> + <p> + To take money by stealth or ask for it, she could not; she was afraid of + her husband, she trembled before him. She felt as though she had been + afraid of him for years. In her childhood the director of the high school + had always seemed the most impressive and terrifying force in the world, + sweeping down like a thunderstorm or a steam-engine ready to crush her; + another similar force of which the whole family talked, and of which they + were for some reason afraid, was His Excellency; then there were a dozen + others, less formidable, and among them the teachers at the high school, + with shaven upper lips, stern, implacable; and now finally, there was + Modest Alexeitch, a man of principle, who even resembled the director in + the face. And in Anna’s imagination all these forces blended together into + one, and, in the form of a terrible, huge white bear, menaced the weak and + erring such as her father. And she was afraid to say anything in + opposition to her husband, and gave a forced smile, and tried to make a + show of pleasure when she was coarsely caressed and defiled by embraces + that excited her terror. Only once Pyotr Leontyitch had the temerity to + ask for a loan of fifty roubles in order to pay some very irksome debt, + but what an agony it had been! + </p> + <p> + “Very good; I’ll give it to you,” said Modest Alexeitch after a moment’s + thought; “but I warn you I won’t help you again till you give up drinking. + Such a failing is disgraceful in a man in the government service! I must + remind you of the well-known fact that many capable people have been + ruined by that passion, though they might possibly, with temperance, have + risen in time to a very high position.” + </p> + <p> + And long-winded phrases followed: “inasmuch as . . .”, “following upon + which proposition . . .”, “in view of the aforesaid contention . . .”; and + Pyotr Leontyitch was in agonies of humiliation and felt an intense craving + for alcohol. + </p> + <p> + And when the boys came to visit Anna, generally in broken boots and + threadbare trousers, they, too, had to listen to sermons. + </p> + <p> + “Every man ought to have his duties!” Modest Alexeitch would say to them. + </p> + <p> + And he did not give them money. But he did give Anna bracelets, rings, and + brooches, saying that these things would come in useful for a rainy day. + And he often unlocked her drawer and made an inspection to see whether + they were all safe. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>eanwhile winter + came on. Long before Christmas there was an announcement in the local + papers that the usual winter ball would take place on the twenty-ninth of + December in the Hall of Nobility. Every evening after cards Modest + Alexeitch was excitedly whispering with his colleagues’ wives and glancing + at Anna, and then paced up and down the room for a long while, thinking. + At last, late one evening, he stood still, facing Anna, and said: + </p> + <p> + “You ought to get yourself a ball dress. Do you understand? Only please + consult Marya Grigoryevna and Natalya Kuzminishna.” + </p> + <p> + And he gave her a hundred roubles. She took the money, but she did not + consult any one when she ordered the ball dress; she spoke to no one but + her father, and tried to imagine how her mother would have dressed for a + ball. Her mother had always dressed in the latest fashion and had always + taken trouble over Anna, dressing her elegantly like a doll, and had + taught her to speak French and dance the mazurka superbly (she had been a + governess for five years before her marriage). Like her mother, Anna could + make a new dress out of an old one, clean gloves with benzine, hire + jewels; and, like her mother, she knew how to screw up her eyes, lisp, + assume graceful attitudes, fly into raptures when necessary, and throw a + mournful and enigmatic look into her eyes. And from her father she had + inherited the dark colour of her hair and eyes, her highly-strung nerves, + and the habit of always making herself look her best. + </p> + <p> + When, half an hour before setting off for the ball, Modest Alexeitch went + into her room without his coat on, to put his order round his neck before + her pier-glass, dazzled by her beauty and the splendour of her fresh, + ethereal dress, he combed his whiskers complacently and said: + </p> + <p> + “So that’s what my wife can look like . . . so that’s what you can look + like! Anyuta!” he went on, dropping into a tone of solemnity, “I have made + your fortune, and now I beg you to do something for mine. I beg you to get + introduced to the wife of His Excellency! For God’s sake, do! Through her + I may get the post of senior reporting clerk!” + </p> + <p> + They went to the ball. They reached the Hall of Nobility, the entrance + with the hall porter. They came to the vestibule with the hat-stands, the + fur coats; footmen scurrying about, and ladies with low necks putting up + their fans to screen themselves from the draughts. There was a smell of + gas and of soldiers. When Anna, walking upstairs on her husband’s arm, + heard the music and saw herself full length in the looking-glass in the + full glow of the lights, there was a rush of joy in her heart, and she + felt the same presentiment of happiness as in the moonlight at the + station. She walked in proudly, confidently, for the first time feeling + herself not a girl but a lady, and unconsciously imitating her mother in + her walk and in her manner. And for the first time in her life she felt + rich and free. Even her husband’s presence did not oppress her, for as she + crossed the threshold of the hall she had guessed instinctively that the + proximity of an old husband did not detract from her in the least, but, on + the contrary, gave her that shade of piquant mystery that is so attractive + to men. The orchestra was already playing and the dances had begun. After + their flat Anna was overwhelmed by the lights, the bright colours, the + music, the noise, and looking round the room, thought, “Oh, how lovely!” + She at once distinguished in the crowd all her acquaintances, every one + she had met before at parties or on picnics—all the officers, the + teachers, the lawyers, the officials, the landowners, His Excellency, + Artynov, and the ladies of the highest standing, dressed up and very <i>décollettées</i>, + handsome and ugly, who had already taken up their positions in the stalls + and pavilions of the charity bazaar, to begin selling things for the + benefit of the poor. A huge officer in epaulettes—she had been + introduced to him in Staro-Kievsky Street when she was a schoolgirl, but + now she could not remember his name—seemed to spring from out of the + ground, begging her for a waltz, and she flew away from her husband, + feeling as though she were floating away in a sailing-boat in a violent + storm, while her husband was left far away on the shore. She danced + passionately, with fervour, a waltz, then a polka and a quadrille, being + snatched by one partner as soon as she was left by another, dizzy with + music and the noise, mixing Russian with French, lisping, laughing, and + with no thought of her husband or anything else. She excited great + admiration among the men—that was evident, and indeed it could not + have been otherwise; she was breathless with excitement, felt thirsty, and + convulsively clutched her fan. Pyotr Leontyitch, her father, in a crumpled + dress-coat that smelt of benzine, came up to her, offering her a plate of + pink ice. + </p> + <p> + “You are enchanting this evening,” he said, looking at her rapturously, + “and I have never so much regretted that you were in such a hurry to get + married. . . . What was it for? I know you did it for our sake, but . . .” + With a shaking hand he drew out a roll of notes and said: “I got the money + for my lessons today, and can pay your husband what I owe him.” + </p> + <p> + She put the plate back into his hand, and was pounced upon by some one and + borne off to a distance. She caught a glimpse over her partner’s shoulder + of her father gliding over the floor, putting his arm round a lady and + whirling down the ball-room with her. + </p> + <p> + “How sweet he is when he is sober!” she thought. + </p> + <p> + She danced the mazurka with the same huge officer; he moved gravely, as + heavily as a dead carcase in a uniform, twitched his shoulders and his + chest, stamped his feet very languidly—he felt fearfully disinclined + to dance. She fluttered round him, provoking him by her beauty, her bare + neck; her eyes glowed defiantly, her movements were passionate, while he + became more and more indifferent, and held out his hands to her as + graciously as a king. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, bravo!” said people watching them. + </p> + <p> + But little by little the huge officer, too, broke out; he grew lively, + excited, and, overcome by her fascination, was carried away and danced + lightly, youthfully, while she merely moved her shoulders and looked slyly + at him as though she were now the queen and he were her slave; and at that + moment it seemed to her that the whole room was looking at them, and that + everybody was thrilled and envied them. The huge officer had hardly had + time to thank her for the dance, when the crowd suddenly parted and the + men drew themselves up in a strange way, with their hands at their sides. + </p> + <p> + His Excellency, with two stars on his dress-coat, was walking up to her. + Yes, His Excellency was walking straight towards her, for he was staring + directly at her with a sugary smile, while he licked his lips as he always + did when he saw a pretty woman. + </p> + <p> + “Delighted, delighted . . .” he began. “I shall order your husband to be + clapped in a lock-up for keeping such a treasure hidden from us till now. + I’ve come to you with a message from my wife,” he went on, offering her + his arm. “You must help us. . . . M-m-yes. . . . We ought to give you the + prize for beauty as they do in America . . . . M-m-yes. . . . The + Americans. . . . My wife is expecting you impatiently.” + </p> + <p> + He led her to a stall and presented her to a middle-aged lady, the lower + part of whose face was disproportionately large, so that she looked as + though she were holding a big stone in her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “You must help us,” she said through her nose in a sing-song voice. “All + the pretty women are working for our charity bazaar, and you are the only + one enjoying yourself. Why won’t you help us?” + </p> + <p> + She went away, and Anna took her place by the cups and the silver samovar. + She was soon doing a lively trade. Anna asked no less than a rouble for a + cup of tea, and made the huge officer drink three cups. Artynov, the rich + man with prominent eyes, who suffered from asthma, came up, too; he was + not dressed in the strange costume in which Anna had seen him in the + summer at the station, but wore a dress-coat like every one else. Keeping + his eyes fixed on Anna, he drank a glass of champagne and paid a hundred + roubles for it, then drank some tea and gave another hundred—all + this without saying a word, as he was short of breath through asthma. . . + . Anna invited purchasers and got money out of them, firmly convinced by + now that her smiles and glances could not fail to afford these people + great pleasure. She realized now that she was created exclusively for this + noisy, brilliant, laughing life, with its music, its dancers, its adorers, + and her old terror of a force that was sweeping down upon her and menacing + to crush her seemed to her ridiculous: she was afraid of no one now, and + only regretted that her mother could not be there to rejoice at her + success. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Leontyitch, pale by now but still steady on his legs, came up to the + stall and asked for a glass of brandy. Anna turned crimson, expecting him + to say something inappropriate (she was already ashamed of having such a + poor and ordinary father); but he emptied his glass, took ten roubles out + of his roll of notes, flung it down, and walked away with dignity without + uttering a word. A little later she saw him dancing in the grand chain, + and by now he was staggering and kept shouting something, to the great + confusion of his partner; and Anna remembered how at the ball three years + before he had staggered and shouted in the same way, and it had ended in + the police-sergeant’s taking him home to bed, and next day the director + had threatened to dismiss him from his post. How inappropriate that memory + was! + </p> + <p> + When the samovars were put out in the stalls and the exhausted ladies + handed over their takings to the middle-aged lady with the stone in her + mouth, Artynov took Anna on his arm to the hall where supper was served to + all who had assisted at the bazaar. There were some twenty people at + supper, not more, but it was very noisy. His Excellency proposed a toast: + </p> + <p> + “In this magnificent dining-room it will be appropriate to drink to the + success of the cheap dining-rooms, which are the object of today’s + bazaar.” + </p> + <p> + The brigadier-general proposed the toast: “To the power by which even the + artillery is vanquished,” and all the company clinked glasses with the + ladies. It was very, very gay. + </p> + <p> + When Anna was escorted home it was daylight and the cooks were going to + market. Joyful, intoxicated, full of new sensations, exhausted, she + undressed, dropped into bed, and at once fell asleep. . . . + </p> + <p> + It was past one in the afternoon when the servant waked her and announced + that M. Artynov had called. She dressed quickly and went down into the + drawing-room. Soon after Artynov, His Excellency called to thank her for + her assistance in the bazaar. With a sugary smile, chewing his lips, he + kissed her hand, and asking her permission to come again, took his leave, + while she remained standing in the middle of the drawing-room, amazed, + enchanted, unable to believe that this change in her life, this marvellous + change, had taken place so quickly; and at that moment Modest Alexeitch + walked in . . . and he, too, stood before her now with the same + ingratiating, sugary, cringingly respectful expression which she was + accustomed to see on his face in the presence of the great and powerful; + and with rapture, with indignation, with contempt, convinced that no harm + would come to her from it, she said, articulating distinctly each word: + </p> + <p> + “Be off, you blockhead!” + </p> + <p> + From this time forward Anna never had one day free, as she was always + taking part in picnics, expeditions, performances. She returned home every + day after midnight, and went to bed on the floor in the drawing-room, and + afterwards used to tell every one, touchingly, how she slept under + flowers. She needed a very great deal of money, but she was no longer + afraid of Modest Alexeitch, and spent his money as though it were her own; + and she did not ask, did not demand it, simply sent him in the bills. + “Give bearer two hundred roubles,” or “Pay one hundred roubles at once.” + </p> + <p> + At Easter Modest Alexeitch received the Anna of the second grade. When he + went to offer his thanks, His Excellency put aside the paper he was + reading and settled himself more comfortably in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “So now you have three Annas,” he said, scrutinizing his white hands and + pink nails—“one on your buttonhole and two on your neck.” + </p> + <p> + Modest Alexeitch put two fingers to his lips as a precaution against + laughing too loud and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now I have only to look forward to the arrival of a little Vladimir. I + make bold to beg your Excellency to stand godfather.” + </p> + <p> + He was alluding to Vladimir of the fourth grade, and was already imagining + how he would tell everywhere the story of this pun, so happy in its + readiness and audacity, and he wanted to say something equally happy, but + His Excellency was buried again in his newspaper, and merely gave him a + nod. + </p> + <p> + And Anna went on driving about with three horses, going out hunting with + Artynov, playing in one-act dramas, going out to supper, and was more and + more rarely with her own family; they dined now alone. Pyotr Leontyitch + was drinking more heavily than ever; there was no money, and the harmonium + had been sold long ago for debt. The boys did not let him go out alone in + the street now, but looked after him for fear he might fall down; and + whenever they met Anna driving in Staro-Kievsky Street with a pair of + horses and Artynov on the box instead of a coachman, Pyotr Leontyitch took + off his top-hat, and was about to shout to her, but Petya and Andrusha + took him by the arm, and said imploringly: + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t, father. Hush, father!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TEACHER OF LITERATURE + </h2> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE was the thud + of horses’ hoofs on the wooden floor; they brought out of the stable the + black horse, Count Nulin; then the white, Giant; then his sister Maika. + They were all magnificent, expensive horses. Old Shelestov saddled Giant + and said, addressing his daughter Masha: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Marie Godefroi, come, get on! Hopla!” + </p> + <p> + Masha Shelestov was the youngest of the family; she was eighteen, but her + family could not get used to thinking that she was not a little girl, and + so they still called her Manya and Manyusa; and after there had been a + circus in the town which she had eagerly visited, every one began to call + her Marie Godefroi. + </p> + <p> + “Hop-la!” she cried, mounting Giant. Her sister Varya got on Maika, + Nikitin on Count Nulin, the officers on their horses, and the long + picturesque cavalcade, with the officers in white tunics and the ladies in + their riding habits, moved at a walking pace out of the yard. + </p> + <p> + Nikitin noticed that when they were mounting the horses and afterwards + riding out into the street, Masha for some reason paid attention to no one + but himself. She looked anxiously at him and at Count Nulin and said: + </p> + <p> + “You must hold him all the time on the curb, Sergey Vassilitch. Don’t let + him shy. He’s pretending.” + </p> + <p> + And either because her Giant was very friendly with Count Nulin, or + perhaps by chance, she rode all the time beside Nikitin, as she had done + the day before, and the day before that. And he looked at her graceful + little figure sitting on the proud white beast, at her delicate profile, + at the chimney-pot hat, which did not suit her at all and made her look + older than her age—looked at her with joy, with tenderness, with + rapture; listened to her, taking in little of what she said, and thought: + </p> + <p> + “I promise on my honour, I swear to God, I won’t be afraid and I’ll speak + to her today.” + </p> + <p> + It was seven o’clock in the evening—the time when the scent of white + acacia and lilac is so strong that the air and the very trees seem heavy + with the fragrance. The band was already playing in the town gardens. The + horses made a resounding thud on the pavement, on all sides there were + sounds of laughter, talk, and the banging of gates. The soldiers they met + saluted the officers, the schoolboys bowed to Nikitin, and all the people + who were hurrying to the gardens to hear the band were pleased at the + sight of the party. And how warm it was! How soft-looking were the clouds + scattered carelessly about the sky, how kindly and comforting the shadows + of the poplars and the acacias, which stretched across the street and + reached as far as the balconies and second stories of the houses on the + other side. + </p> + <p> + They rode on out of the town and set off at a trot along the highroad. + Here there was no scent of lilac and acacia, no music of the band, but + there was the fragrance of the fields, there was the green of young rye + and wheat, the marmots were squeaking, the rooks were cawing. Wherever one + looked it was green, with only here and there black patches of bare + ground, and far away to the left in the cemetery a white streak of + apple-blossom. + </p> + <p> + They passed the slaughter-houses, then the brewery, and overtook a + military band hastening to the suburban gardens. + </p> + <p> + “Polyansky has a very fine horse, I don’t deny that,” Masha said to + Nikitin, with a glance towards the officer who was riding beside Varya. + “But it has blemishes. That white patch on its left leg ought not to be + there, and, look, it tosses its head. You can’t train it not to now; it + will toss its head till the end of its days.” + </p> + <p> + Masha was as passionate a lover of horses as her father. She felt a pang + when she saw other people with fine horses, and was pleased when she saw + defects in them. Nikitin knew nothing about horses; it made absolutely no + difference to him whether he held his horse on the bridle or on the curb, + whether he trotted or galloped; he only felt that his position was + strained and unnatural, and that consequently the officers who knew how to + sit in their saddles must please Masha more than he could. And he was + jealous of the officers. + </p> + <p> + As they rode by the suburban gardens some one suggested their going in and + getting some seltzer-water. They went in. There were no trees but oaks in + the gardens; they had only just come into leaf, so that through the young + foliage the whole garden could still be seen with its platform, little + tables, and swings, and the crows’ nests were visible, looking like big + hats. The party dismounted near a table and asked for seltzer-water. + People they knew, walking about the garden, came up to them. Among them + the army doctor in high boots, and the conductor of the band, waiting for + the musicians. The doctor must have taken Nikitin for a student, for he + asked: “Have you come for the summer holidays?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am here permanently,” answered Nikitin. “I am a teacher at the + school.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say so?” said the doctor, with surprise. “So young and already + a teacher?” + </p> + <p> + “Young, indeed! My goodness, I’m twenty-six! + </p> + <p> + “You have a beard and moustache, but yet one would never guess you were + more than twenty-two or twenty-three. How young-looking you are!” + </p> + <p> + “What a beast!” thought Nikitin. “He, too, takes me for a + whipper-snapper!” + </p> + <p> + He disliked it extremely when people referred to his youth, especially in + the presence of women or the schoolboys. Ever since he had come to the + town as a master in the school he had detested his own youthful + appearance. The schoolboys were not afraid of him, old people called him + “young man,” ladies preferred dancing with him to listening to his long + arguments, and he would have given a great deal to be ten years older. + </p> + <p> + From the garden they went on to the Shelestovs’ farm. There they stopped + at the gate and asked the bailiff’s wife, Praskovya, to bring some new + milk. Nobody drank the milk; they all looked at one another, laughed, and + galloped back. As they rode back the band was playing in the suburban + garden; the sun was setting behind the cemetery, and half the sky was + crimson from the sunset. + </p> + <p> + Masha again rode beside Nikitin. He wanted to tell her how passionately he + loved her, but he was afraid he would be overheard by the officers and + Varya, and he was silent. Masha was silent, too, and he felt why she was + silent and why she was riding beside him, and was so happy that the earth, + the sky, the lights of the town, the black outline of the brewery—all + blended for him into something very pleasant and comforting, and it seemed + to him as though Count Nulin were stepping on air and would climb up into + the crimson sky. + </p> + <p> + They arrived home. The samovar was already boiling on the table, old + Shelestov was sitting with his friends, officials in the Circuit Court, + and as usual he was criticizing something. + </p> + <p> + “It’s loutishness!” he said. “Loutishness and nothing more. Yes!” + </p> + <p> + Since Nikitin had been in love with Masha, everything at the Shelestovs’ + pleased him: the house, the garden, and the evening tea, and the + wickerwork chairs, and the old nurse, and even the word “loutishness,” + which the old man was fond of using. The only thing he did not like was + the number of cats and dogs and the Egyptian pigeons, who moaned + disconsolately in a big cage in the verandah. There were so many + house-dogs and yard-dogs that he had only learnt to recognize two of them + in the course of his acquaintance with the Shelestovs: Mushka and Som. + Mushka was a little mangy dog with a shaggy face, spiteful and spoiled. + She hated Nikitin: when she saw him she put her head on one side, showed + her teeth, and began: “Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga . . . rrr . . . !” Then she + would get under his chair, and when he would try to drive her away she + would go off into piercing yaps, and the family would say: “Don’t be + frightened. She doesn’t bite. She is a good dog.” + </p> + <p> + Som was a tall black dog with long legs and a tail as hard as a stick. At + dinner and tea he usually moved about under the table, and thumped on + people’s boots and on the legs of the table with his tail. He was a + good-natured, stupid dog, but Nikitin could not endure him because he had + the habit of putting his head on people’s knees at dinner and messing + their trousers with saliva. Nikitin had more than once tried to hit him on + his head with a knife-handle, to flip him on the nose, had abused him, had + complained of him, but nothing saved his trousers. + </p> + <p> + After their ride the tea, jam, rusks, and butter seemed very nice. They + all drank their first glass in silence and with great relish; over the + second they began an argument. It was always Varya who started the + arguments at tea; she was good-looking, handsomer than Masha, and was + considered the cleverest and most cultured person in the house, and she + behaved with dignity and severity, as an eldest daughter should who has + taken the place of her dead mother in the house. As the mistress of the + house, she felt herself entitled to wear a dressing-gown in the presence + of her guests, and to call the officers by their surnames; she looked on + Masha as a little girl, and talked to her as though she were a + schoolmistress. She used to speak of herself as an old maid—so she + was certain she would marry. + </p> + <p> + Every conversation, even about the weather, she invariably turned into an + argument. She had a passion for catching at words, pouncing on + contradictions, quibbling over phrases. You would begin talking to her, + and she would stare at you and suddenly interrupt: “Excuse me, excuse me, + Petrov, the other day you said the very opposite!” + </p> + <p> + Or she would smile ironically and say: “I notice, though, you begin to + advocate the principles of the secret police. I congratulate you.” + </p> + <p> + If you jested or made a pun, you would hear her voice at once: “That’s + stale,” “That’s pointless.” If an officer ventured on a joke, she would + make a contemptuous grimace and say, “An army joke!” + </p> + <p> + And she rolled the <i>r</i> so impressively that Mushka invariably + answered from under a chair, “Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga . . . !” + </p> + <p> + On this occasion at tea the argument began with Nikitin’s mentioning the + school examinations. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Sergey Vassilitch,” Varya interrupted him. “You say it’s + difficult for the boys. And whose fault is that, let me ask you? For + instance, you set the boys in the eighth class an essay on ‘Pushkin as a + Psychologist.’ To begin with, you shouldn’t set such a difficult subject; + and, secondly, Pushkin was not a psychologist. Shtchedrin now, or + Dostoevsky let us say, is a different matter, but Pushkin is a great poet + and nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “Shtchedrin is one thing, and Pushkin is another,” Nikitin answered + sulkily. + </p> + <p> + “I know you don’t think much of Shtchedrin at the high school, but that’s + not the point. Tell me, in what sense is Pushkin a psychologist?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, do you mean to say he was not a psychologist? If you like, I’ll give + you examples.” + </p> + <p> + And Nikitin recited several passages from “Onyegin” and then from “Boris + Godunov.” + </p> + <p> + “I see no psychology in that.” Varya sighed. “The psychologist is the man + who describes the recesses of the human soul, and that’s fine poetry and + nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the sort of psychology you want,” said Nikitin, offended. “You + want some one to saw my finger with a blunt saw while I howl at the top of + my voice—that’s what you mean by psychology.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s poor! But still you haven’t shown me in what sense Pushkin is a + psychologist?” + </p> + <p> + When Nikitin had to argue against anything that seemed to him narrow, + conventional, or something of that kind, he usually leaped up from his + seat, clutched at his head with both hands, and began with a moan, running + from one end of the room to another. And it was the same now: he jumped + up, clutched his head in his hands, and with a moan walked round the + table, then he sat down a little way off. + </p> + <p> + The officers took his part. Captain Polyansky began assuring Varya that + Pushkin really was a psychologist, and to prove it quoted two lines from + Lermontov; Lieutenant Gernet said that if Pushkin had not been a + psychologist they would not have erected a monument to him in Moscow. + </p> + <p> + “That’s loutishness!” was heard from the other end of the table. “I said + as much to the governor: ‘It’s loutishness, your Excellency,’ I said.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t argue any more,” cried Nikitin. “It’s unending. . . . Enough! + Ach, get away, you nasty dog!” he cried to Som, who laid his head and paw + on his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga!” came from under the table. + </p> + <p> + “Admit that you are wrong!” cried Varya. “Own up!” + </p> + <p> + But some young ladies came in, and the argument dropped of itself. They + all went into the drawing-room. Varya sat down at the piano and began + playing dances. They danced first a waltz, then a polka, then a quadrille + with a grand chain which Captain Polyansky led through all the rooms, then + a waltz again. + </p> + <p> + During the dancing the old men sat in the drawing-room, smoking and + looking at the young people. Among them was Shebaldin, the director of the + municipal bank, who was famed for his love of literature and dramatic art. + He had founded the local Musical and Dramatic Society, and took part in + the performances himself, confining himself, for some reason, to playing + comic footmen or to reading in a sing-song voice “The Woman who was a + Sinner.” His nickname in the town was “the Mummy,” as he was tall, very + lean and scraggy, and always had a solemn air and a fixed, lustreless eye. + He was so devoted to the dramatic art that he even shaved his moustache + and beard, and this made him still more like a mummy. + </p> + <p> + After the grand chain, he shuffled up to Nikitin sideways, coughed, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “I had the pleasure of being present during the argument at tea. I fully + share your opinion. We are of one mind, and it would be a great pleasure + to me to talk to you. Have you read Lessing on the dramatic art of + Hamburg?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven’t.” + </p> + <p> + Shebaldin was horrified, and waved his hands as though he had burnt his + fingers, and saying nothing more, staggered back from Nikitin. Shebaldin’s + appearance, his question, and his surprise, struck Nikitin as funny, but + he thought none the less: + </p> + <p> + “It really is awkward. I am a teacher of literature, and to this day I’ve + not read Lessing. I must read him.” + </p> + <p> + Before supper the whole company, old and young, sat down to play “fate.” + They took two packs of cards: one pack was dealt round to the company, the + other was laid on the table face downwards. + </p> + <p> + “The one who has this card in his hand,” old Shelestov began solemnly, + lifting the top card of the second pack, “is fated to go into the nursery + and kiss nurse.” + </p> + <p> + The pleasure of kissing the nurse fell to the lot of Shebaldin. They all + crowded round him, took him to the nursery, and laughing and clapping + their hands, made him kiss the nurse. There was a great uproar and + shouting. + </p> + <p> + “Not so ardently!” cried Shelestov with tears of laughter. “Not so + ardently!” + </p> + <p> + It was Nikitin’s “fate” to hear the confessions of all. He sat on a chair + in the middle of the drawing-room. A shawl was brought and put over his + head. The first who came to confess to him was Varya. + </p> + <p> + “I know your sins,” Nikitin began, looking in the darkness at her stern + profile. “Tell me, madam, how do you explain your walking with Polyansky + every day? Oh, it’s not for nothing she walks with an hussar!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s poor,” said Varya, and walked away. + </p> + <p> + Then under the shawl he saw the shine of big motionless eyes, caught the + lines of a dear profile in the dark, together with a familiar, precious + fragrance which reminded Nikitin of Masha’s room. + </p> + <p> + “Marie Godefroi,” he said, and did not know his own voice, it was so soft + and tender, “what are your sins?” + </p> + <p> + Masha screwed up her eyes and put out the tip of her tongue at him, then + she laughed and went away. And a minute later she was standing in the + middle of the room, clapping her hands and crying: + </p> + <p> + “Supper, supper, supper!” + </p> + <p> + And they all streamed into the dining-room. At supper Varya had another + argument, and this time with her father. Polyansky ate stolidly, drank red + wine, and described to Nikitin how once in a winter campaign he had stood + all night up to his knees in a bog; the enemy was so near that they were + not allowed to speak or smoke, the night was cold and dark, a piercing + wind was blowing. Nikitin listened and stole side-glances at Masha. She + was gazing at him immovably, without blinking, as though she was pondering + something or was lost in a reverie. . . . It was pleasure and agony to him + both at once. + </p> + <p> + “Why does she look at me like that?” was the question that fretted him. + “It’s awkward. People may notice it. Oh, how young, how naïve she is!” + </p> + <p> + The party broke up at midnight. When Nikitin went out at the gate, a + window opened on the first-floor, and Masha showed herself at it. + </p> + <p> + “Sergey Vassilitch!” she called. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what . . .” said Masha, evidently thinking of something to + say. “I tell you what. . . Polyansky said he would come in a day or two + with his camera and take us all. We must meet here.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + Masha vanished, the window was slammed, and some one immediately began + playing the piano in the house. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is a house!” thought Nikitin while he crossed the street. “A + house in which there is no moaning except from Egyptian pigeons, and they + only do it because they have no other means of expressing their joy!” + </p> + <p> + But the Shelestovs were not the only festive household. Nikitin had not + gone two hundred paces before he heard the strains of a piano from another + house. A little further he met a peasant playing the balalaika at the + gate. In the gardens the band struck up a potpourri of Russian songs. + </p> + <p> + Nikitin lived nearly half a mile from the Shelestoys’ in a flat of eight + rooms at the rent of three hundred roubles a year, which he shared with + his colleague Ippolit Ippolititch, a teacher of geography and history. + When Nikitin went in this Ippolit Ippolititch, a snub-nosed, middle-aged + man with a reddish beard, with a coarse, good-natured, unintellectual face + like a workman’s, was sitting at the table correcting his pupils’ maps. He + considered that the most important and necessary part of the study of + geography was the drawing of maps, and of the study of history the + learning of dates: he would sit for nights together correcting in blue + pencil the maps drawn by the boys and girls he taught, or making + chronological tables. + </p> + <p> + “What a lovely day it has been!” said Nikitin, going in to him. “I wonder + at you—how can you sit indoors?” + </p> + <p> + Ippolit Ippolititch was not a talkative person; he either remained silent + or talked of things which everybody knew already. Now what he answered + was: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very fine weather. It’s May now; we soon shall have real summer. And + summer’s a very different thing from winter. In the winter you have to + heat the stoves, but in summer you can keep warm without. In summer you + have your window open at night and still are warm, and in winter you are + cold even with the double frames in.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin had not sat at the table for more than one minute before he was + bored. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night!” he said, getting up and yawning. “I wanted to tell you + something romantic concerning myself, but you are—geography! If one + talks to you of love, you will ask one at once, ‘What was the date of the + Battle of Kalka?’ Confound you, with your battles and your capes in + Siberia!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you cross about?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is vexatious!” + </p> + <p> + And vexed that he had not spoken to Masha, and that he had no one to talk + to of his love, he went to his study and lay down upon the sofa. It was + dark and still in the study. Lying gazing into the darkness, Nikitin for + some reason began thinking how in two or three years he would go to + Petersburg, how Masha would see him off at the station and would cry; in + Petersburg he would get a long letter from her in which she would entreat + him to come home as quickly as possible. And he would write to her. . . . + He would begin his letter like that: “My dear little rat!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear little rat!” he said, and he laughed. + </p> + <p> + He was lying in an uncomfortable position. He put his arms under his head + and put his left leg over the back of the sofa. He felt more comfortable. + Meanwhile a pale light was more and more perceptible at the windows, + sleepy cocks crowed in the yard. Nikitin went on thinking how he would + come back from Petersburg, how Masha would meet him at the station, and + with a shriek of delight would fling herself on his neck; or, better + still, he would cheat her and come home by stealth late at night: the cook + would open the door, then he would go on tiptoe to the bedroom, undress + noiselessly, and jump into bed! And she would wake up and be overjoyed. + </p> + <p> + It was beginning to get quite light. By now there were no windows, no + study. On the steps of the brewery by which they had ridden that day Masha + was sitting, saying something. Then she took Nikitin by the arm and went + with him to the suburban garden. There he saw the oaks and, the crows’ + nests like hats. One of the nests rocked; out of it peeped Shebaldin, + shouting loudly: “You have not read Lessing!” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin shuddered all over and opened his eyes. Ippolit Ippolititch was + standing before the sofa, and throwing back his head, was putting on his + cravat. + </p> + <p> + “Get up; it’s time for school,” he said. “You shouldn’t sleep in your + clothes; it spoils your clothes. You should sleep in your bed, undressed.” + </p> + <p> + And as usual he began slowly and emphatically saying what everybody knew. + </p> + <p> + Nikitin’s first lesson was on Russian language in the second class. When + at nine o’clock punctually he went into the classroom, he saw written on + the blackboard two large letters—<i>M. S.</i> That, no doubt, meant + Masha Shelestov. + </p> + <p> + “They’ve scented it out already, the rascals . . .” thought Nikitin. “How + is it they know everything?” + </p> + <p> + The second lesson was in the fifth class. And there two letters, <i>M. S.</i>, + were written on the blackboard; and when he went out of the classroom at + the end of the lesson, he heard the shout behind him as though from a + theatre gallery: + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah for Masha Shelestov!” + </p> + <p> + His head was heavy from sleeping in his clothes, his limbs were weighted + down with inertia. The boys, who were expecting every day to break up + before the examinations, did nothing, were restless, and so bored that + they got into mischief. Nikitin, too, was restless, did not notice their + pranks, and was continually going to the window. He could see the street + brilliantly lighted up with the sun; above the houses the blue limpid sky, + the birds, and far, far away, beyond the gardens and the houses, vast + indefinite distance, the forests in the blue haze, the smoke from a + passing train. . . . + </p> + <p> + Here two officers in white tunics, playing with their whips, passed in the + street in the shade of the acacias. Here a lot of Jews, with grey beards, + and caps on, drove past in a waggonette. . . . The governess walked by + with the director’s granddaughter. Som ran by in the company of two other + dogs. . . . And then Varya, wearing a simple grey dress and red stockings, + carrying the “Vyestnik Evropi” in her hand, passed by. She must have been + to the town library. . . . + </p> + <p> + And it would be a long time before lessons were over at three o’clock! And + after school he could not go home nor to the Shelestovs’, but must go to + give a lesson at Wolf’s. This Wolf, a wealthy Jew who had turned Lutheran, + did not send his children to the high school, but had them taught at home + by the high-school masters, and paid five roubles a lesson. + </p> + <p> + He was bored, bored, bored. + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock he went to Wolf’s and spent there, as it seemed to him, + an eternity. He left there at five o’clock, and before seven he had to be + at the high school again to a meeting of the masters —to draw up the + plan for the <i>viva voce</i> examination of the fourth and sixth classes. + </p> + <p> + When late in the evening he left the high school and went to the + Shelestovs’, his heart was beating and his face was flushed. A month + before, even a week before, he had, every time that he made up his mind to + speak to her, prepared a whole speech, with an introduction and a + conclusion. Now he had not one word ready; everything was in a muddle in + his head, and all he knew was that today he would <i>certainly</i> declare + himself, and that it was utterly impossible to wait any longer. + </p> + <p> + “I will ask her to come to the garden,” he thought; “we’ll walk about a + little and I’ll speak.” + </p> + <p> + There was not a soul in the hall; he went into the dining-room and then + into the drawing-room. . . . There was no one there either. He could hear + Varya arguing with some one upstairs and the clink of the dressmaker’s + scissors in the nursery. + </p> + <p> + There was a little room in the house which had three names: the little + room, the passage room, and the dark room. There was a big cupboard in it + where they kept medicines, gunpowder, and their hunting gear. Leading from + this room to the first floor was a narrow wooden staircase where cats were + always asleep. There were two doors in it—one leading to the + nursery, one to the drawing-room. When Nikitin went into this room to go + upstairs, the door from the nursery opened and shut with such a bang that + it made the stairs and the cupboard tremble; Masha, in a dark dress, ran + in with a piece of blue material in her hand, and, not noticing Nikitin, + darted towards the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Stay . . .” said Nikitin, stopping her. “Good-evening, Godefroi . . . . + Allow me. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He gasped, he did not know what to say; with one hand he held her hand and + with the other the blue material. And she was half frightened, half + surprised, and looked at him with big eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me . . .” Nikitin went on, afraid she would go away. “There’s + something I must say to you. . . . Only . . . it’s inconvenient here. I + cannot, I am incapable. . . . Understand, Godefroi, I can’t —that’s + all . . . .” + </p> + <p> + The blue material slipped on to the floor, and Nikitin took Masha by the + other hand. She turned pale, moved her lips, then stepped back from + Nikitin and found herself in the corner between the wall and the cupboard. + </p> + <p> + “On my honour, I assure you . . .” he said softly. “Masha, on my honour. . + . .” + </p> + <p> + She threw back her head and he kissed her lips, and that the kiss might + last longer he put his fingers to her cheeks; and it somehow happened that + he found himself in the corner between the cupboard and the wall, and she + put her arms round his neck and pressed her head against his chin. + </p> + <p> + Then they both ran into the garden. The Shelestoys had a garden of nine + acres. There were about twenty old maples and lime-trees in it; there was + one fir-tree, and all the rest were fruit-trees: cherries, apples, pears, + horse-chestnuts, silvery olive-trees. . . . There were heaps of flowers, + too. + </p> + <p> + Nikitin and Masha ran along the avenues in silence, laughed, asked each + other from time to time disconnected questions which they did not answer. + A crescent moon was shining over the garden, and drowsy tulips and irises + were stretching up from the dark grass in its faint light, as though + entreating for words of love for them, too. + </p> + <p> + When Nikitin and Masha went back to the house, the officers and the young + ladies were already assembled and dancing the mazurka. Again Polyansky led + the grand chain through all the rooms, again after dancing they played + “fate.” Before supper, when the visitors had gone into the dining-room, + Masha, left alone with Nikitin, pressed close to him and said: + </p> + <p> + “You must speak to papa and Varya yourself; I am ashamed.” + </p> + <p> + After supper he talked to the old father. After listening to him, + Shelestov thought a little and said: + </p> + <p> + “I am very grateful for the honour you do me and my daughter, but let me + speak to you as a friend. I will speak to you, not as a father, but as one + gentleman to another. Tell me, why do you want to be married so young? + Only peasants are married so young, and that, of course, is loutishness. + But why should you? Where’s the satisfaction of putting on the fetters at + your age?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not young!” said Nikitin, offended. “I am in my twenty-seventh + year.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, the farrier has come!” cried Varya from the other room. + </p> + <p> + And the conversation broke off. Varya, Masha, and Polyansky saw Nikitin + home. When they reached his gate, Varya said: + </p> + <p> + “Why is it your mysterious Metropolit Metropolititch never shows himself + anywhere? He might come and see us.” + </p> + <p> + The mysterious Ippolit Ippolititch was sitting on his bed, taking off his + trousers, when Nikitin went in to him. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go to bed, my dear fellow,” said Nikitin breathlessly. “Stop a + minute; don’t go to bed!” + </p> + <p> + Ippolit Ippolititch put on his trousers hurriedly and asked in a flutter: + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin sat down beside his companion, and looking at him wonderingly, as + though surprised at himself, said: + </p> + <p> + “Only fancy, I am going to be married! To Masha Shelestov! I made an offer + today.” + </p> + <p> + “Well? She seems a good sort of girl. Only she is very young.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is young,” sighed Nikitin, and shrugged his shoulders with a + careworn air. “Very, very young!” + </p> + <p> + “She was my pupil at the high school. I know her. She wasn’t bad at + geography, but she was no good at history. And she was inattentive in + class, too.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin for some reason felt suddenly sorry for his companion, and longed + to say something kind and comforting to him. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, why don’t you get married?” he asked. “Why don’t you + marry Varya, for instance? She is a splendid, first-rate girl! It’s true + she is very fond of arguing, but a heart . . . what a heart! She was just + asking about you. Marry her, my dear boy! Eh?” + </p> + <p> + He knew perfectly well that Varya would not marry this dull, snub-nosed + man, but still persuaded him to marry her—why? + </p> + <p> + “Marriage is a serious step,” said Ippolit Ippolititch after a moment’s + thought. “One has to look at it all round and weigh things thoroughly; + it’s not to be done rashly. Prudence is always a good thing, and + especially in marriage, when a man, ceasing to be a bachelor, begins a new + life.” + </p> + <p> + And he talked of what every one has known for ages. Nikitin did not stay + to listen, said goodnight, and went to his own room. He undressed quickly + and quickly got into bed, in order to be able to think the sooner of his + happiness, of Masha, of the future; he smiled, then suddenly recalled that + he had not read Lessing. + </p> + <p> + “I must read him,” he thought. “Though, after all, why should I? Bother + him!” + </p> + <p> + And exhausted by his happiness, he fell asleep at once and went on smiling + till the morning. + </p> + <p> + He dreamed of the thud of horses’ hoofs on a wooden floor; he dreamed of + the black horse Count Nulin, then of the white Giant and its sister Maika, + being led out of the stable. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">“I</span>t was very + crowded and noisy in the church, and once some one cried out, and the head + priest, who was marrying Masha and me, looked through his spectacles at + the crowd, and said severely: ‘Don’t move about the church, and don’t make + a noise, but stand quietly and pray. You should have the fear of God in + your hearts.’ + </p> + <p> + “My best men were two of my colleagues, and Masha’s best men were Captain + Polyansky and Lieutenant Gernet. The bishop’s choir sang superbly. The + sputtering of the candles, the brilliant light, the gorgeous dresses, the + officers, the numbers of gay, happy faces, and a special ethereal look in + Masha, everything together—the surroundings and the words of the + wedding prayers—moved me to tears and filled me with triumph. I + thought how my life had blossomed, how poetically it was shaping itself! + Two years ago I was still a student, I was living in cheap furnished + rooms, without money, without relations, and, as I fancied then, with + nothing to look forward to. Now I am a teacher in the high school in one + of the best provincial towns, with a secure income, loved, spoiled. It is + for my sake, I thought, this crowd is collected, for my sake three + candelabra have been lighted, the deacon is booming, the choir is doing + its best; and it’s for my sake that this young creature, whom I soon shall + call my wife, is so young, so elegant, and so joyful. I recalled our first + meetings, our rides into the country, my declaration of love and the + weather, which, as though expressly, was so exquisitely fine all the + summer; and the happiness which at one time in my old rooms seemed to me + possible only in novels and stories, I was now experiencing in reality—I + was now, as it were, holding it in my hands. + </p> + <p> + “After the ceremony they all crowded in disorder round Masha and me, + expressed their genuine pleasure, congratulated us and wished us joy. The + brigadier-general, an old man of seventy, confined himself to + congratulating Masha, and said to her in a squeaky, aged voice, so loud + that it could be heard all over the church: + </p> + <p> + “‘I hope that even after you are married you may remain the rose you are + now, my dear.’ + </p> + <p> + “The officers, the director, and all the teachers smiled from politeness, + and I was conscious of an agreeable artificial smile on my face, too. Dear + Ippolit Ippolititch, the teacher of history and geography, who always says + what every one has heard before, pressed my hand warmly and said with + feeling: + </p> + <p> + “‘Hitherto you have been unmarried and have lived alone, and now you are + married and no longer single.’ + </p> + <p> + “From the church we went to a two-storied house which I am receiving as + part of the dowry. Besides that house Masha is bringing me twenty thousand + roubles, as well as a piece of waste land with a shanty on it, where I am + told there are numbers of hens and ducks which are not looked after and + are turning wild. When I got home from the church, I stretched myself at + full length on the low sofa in my new study and began to smoke; I felt + snug, cosy, and comfortable, as I never had in my life before. And + meanwhile the wedding party were shouting ‘Hurrah!’ while a wretched band + in the hall played flourishes and all sorts of trash. Varya, Masha’s + sister, ran into the study with a wineglass in her hand, and with a queer, + strained expression, as though her mouth were full of water; apparently + she had meant to go on further, but she suddenly burst out laughing and + sobbing, and the wineglass crashed on the floor. We took her by the arms + and led her away. + </p> + <p> + “‘Nobody can understand!’ she muttered afterwards, lying on the old + nurse’s bed in a back room. ‘Nobody, nobody! My God, nobody can + understand!’ + </p> + <p> + “But every one understood very well that she was four years older than her + sister Masha, and still unmarried, and that she was crying, not from envy, + but from the melancholy consciousness that her time was passing, and + perhaps had passed. When they danced the quadrille, she was back in the + drawing-room with a tear-stained and heavily powdered face, and I saw + Captain Polyansky holding a plate of ice before her while she ate it with + a spoon. + </p> + <p> + “It is past five o’clock in the morning. I took up my diary to describe my + complete and perfect happiness, and thought I would write a good six + pages, and read it tomorrow to Masha; but, strange to say, everything is + muddled in my head and as misty as a dream, and I can remember vividly + nothing but that episode with Varya, and I want to write, ‘Poor Varya!’ I + could go on sitting here and writing ‘Poor Varya!’ By the way, the trees + have begun rustling; it will rain. The crows are cawing, and my Masha, who + has just gone to sleep, has for some reason a sorrowful face.” + </p> + <p> + For a long while afterwards Nikitin did not write his diary. At the + beginning of August he had the school examinations, and after the + fifteenth the classes began. As a rule he set off for school before nine + in the morning, and before ten o’clock he was looking at his watch and + pining for his Masha and his new house. In the lower forms he would set + some boy to dictate, and while the boys were writing, would sit in the + window with his eyes shut, dreaming; whether he dreamed of the future or + recalled the past, everything seemed to him equally delightful, like a + fairy tale. In the senior classes they were reading aloud Gogol or + Pushkin’s prose works, and that made him sleepy; people, trees, fields, + horses, rose before his imagination, and he would say with a sigh, as + though fascinated by the author: + </p> + <p> + “How lovely!” + </p> + <p> + At the midday recess Masha used to send him lunch in a snow-white napkin, + and he would eat it slowly, with pauses, to prolong the enjoyment of it; + and Ippolit Ippolititch, whose lunch as a rule consisted of nothing but + bread, looked at him with respect and envy, and gave expression to some + familiar fact, such as: + </p> + <p> + “Men cannot live without food.” + </p> + <p> + After school Nikitin went straight to give his private lessons, and when + at last by six o’clock he got home, he felt excited and anxious, as though + he had been away for a year. He would run upstairs breathless, find Masha, + throw his arms round her, and kiss her and swear that he loved her, that + he could not live without her, declare that he had missed her fearfully, + and ask her in trepidation how she was and why she looked so depressed. + Then they would dine together. After dinner he would lie on the sofa in + his study and smoke, while she sat beside him and talked in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + His happiest days now were Sundays and holidays, when he was at home from + morning till evening. On those days he took part in the naïve but + extraordinarily pleasant life which reminded him of a pastoral idyl. He + was never weary of watching how his sensible and practical Masha was + arranging her nest, and anxious to show that he was of some use in the + house, he would do something useless— for instance, bring the chaise + out of the stable and look at it from every side. Masha had installed a + regular dairy with three cows, and in her cellar she had many jugs of milk + and pots of sour cream, and she kept it all for butter. Sometimes, by way + of a joke, Nikitin would ask her for a glass of milk, and she would be + quite upset because it was against her rules; but he would laugh and throw + his arms round her, saying: + </p> + <p> + “There, there; I was joking, my darling! I was joking!” + </p> + <p> + Or he would laugh at her strictness when, finding in the cupboard some + stale bit of cheese or sausage as hard as a stone, she would say + seriously: + </p> + <p> + “They will eat that in the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + He would observe that such a scrap was only fit for a mousetrap, and she + would reply warmly that men knew nothing about housekeeping, and that it + was just the same to the servants if you were to send down a hundredweight + of savouries to the kitchen. He would agree, and embrace her + enthusiastically. Everything that was just in what she said seemed to him + extraordinary and amazing; and what did not fit in with his convictions + seemed to him naïve and touching. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes he was in a philosophical mood, and he would begin to discuss + some abstract subject while she listened and looked at his face with + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “I am immensely happy with you, my joy,” he used to say, playing with her + fingers or plaiting and unplaiting her hair. “But I don’t look upon this + happiness of mine as something that has come to me by chance, as though it + had dropped from heaven. This happiness is a perfectly natural, + consistent, logical consequence. I believe that man is the creator of his + own happiness, and now I am enjoying just what I have myself created. Yes, + I speak without false modesty: I have created this happiness myself and I + have a right to it. You know my past. My unhappy childhood, without father + or mother; my depressing youth, poverty—all this was a struggle, all + this was the path by which I made my way to happiness. . . .” + </p> + <p> + In October the school sustained a heavy loss: Ippolit Ippolititch was + taken ill with erysipelas on the head and died. For two days before his + death he was unconscious and delirious, but even in his delirium he said + nothing that was not perfectly well known to every one. + </p> + <p> + “The Volga flows into the Caspian Sea. . . . Horses eat oats and hay. . . + .” + </p> + <p> + There were no lessons at the high school on the day of his funeral. His + colleagues and pupils were the coffin-bearers, and the school choir sang + all the way to the grave the anthem “Holy God.” Three priests, two + deacons, all his pupils and the staff of the boys’ high school, and the + bishop’s choir in their best kaftans, took part in the procession. And + passers-by who met the solemn procession, crossed themselves and said: + </p> + <p> + “God grant us all such a death.” + </p> + <p> + Returning home from the cemetery much moved, Nikitin got out his diary + from the table and wrote: + </p> + <p> + “We have just consigned to the tomb Ippolit Ippolititch Ryzhitsky. Peace + to your ashes, modest worker! Masha, Varya, and all the women at the + funeral, wept from genuine feeling, perhaps because they knew this + uninteresting, humble man had never been loved by a woman. I wanted to say + a warm word at my colleague’s grave, but I was warned that this might + displease the director, as he did not like our poor friend. I believe that + this is the first day since my marriage that my heart has been heavy.” + </p> + <p> + There was no other event of note in the scholastic year. + </p> + <p> + The winter was mild, with wet snow and no frost; on Epiphany Eve, for + instance, the wind howled all night as though it were autumn, and water + trickled off the roofs; and in the morning, at the ceremony of the + blessing of the water, the police allowed no one to go on the river, + because they said the ice was swelling up and looked dark. But in spite of + bad weather Nikitin’s life was as happy as in summer. And, indeed, he + acquired another source of pleasure; he learned to play <i>vint</i>. Only + one thing troubled him, moved him to anger, and seemed to prevent him from + being perfectly happy: the cats and dogs which formed part of his wife’s + dowry. The rooms, especially in the morning, always smelt like a + menagerie, and nothing could destroy the odour; the cats frequently fought + with the dogs. The spiteful beast Mushka was fed a dozen times a day; she + still refused to recognize Nikitin and growled at him: “Rrr . . . + nga-nga-nga!” + </p> + <p> + One night in Lent he was returning home from the club where he had been + playing cards. It was dark, raining, and muddy. Nikitin had an unpleasant + feeling at the bottom of his heart and could not account for it. He did + not know whether it was because he had lost twelve roubles at cards, or + whether because one of the players, when they were settling up, had said + that of course Nikitin had pots of money, with obvious reference to his + wife’s portion. He did not regret the twelve roubles, and there was + nothing offensive in what had been said; but, still, there was the + unpleasant feeling. He did not even feel a desire to go home. + </p> + <p> + “Foo, how horrid!” he said, standing still at a lamp-post. + </p> + <p> + It occurred to him that he did not regret the twelve roubles because he + got them for nothing. If he had been a working man he would have known the + value of every farthing, and would not have been so careless whether he + lost or won. And his good-fortune had all, he reflected, come to him by + chance, for nothing, and really was as superfluous for him as medicine for + the healthy. If, like the vast majority of people, he had been harassed by + anxiety for his daily bread, had been struggling for existence, if his + back and chest had ached from work, then supper, a warm snug home, and + domestic happiness, would have been the necessity, the compensation, the + crown of his life; as it was, all this had a strange, indefinite + significance for him. + </p> + <p> + “Foo, how horrid!” he repeated, knowing perfectly well that these + reflections were in themselves a bad sign. + </p> + <p> + When he got home Masha was in bed: she was breathing evenly and smiling, + and was evidently sleeping with great enjoyment. Near her the white cat + lay curled up, purring. While Nikitin lit the candle and lighted his + cigarette, Masha woke up and greedily drank a glass of water. + </p> + <p> + “I ate too many sweets,” she said, and laughed. “Have you been home?” she + asked after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin knew already that Captain Polyansky, on whom Varya had been + building great hopes of late, was being transferred to one of the western + provinces, and was already making his farewell visits in the town, and so + it was depressing at his father-in-law’s. + </p> + <p> + “Varya looked in this evening,” said Masha, sitting up. “She did not say + anything, but one could see from her face how wretched she is, poor + darling! I can’t bear Polyansky. He is fat and bloated, and when he walks + or dances his cheeks shake. . . . He is not a man I would choose. But, + still, I did think he was a decent person.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he is a decent person now,” said Nikitin. + </p> + <p> + “Then why has he treated Varya so badly?” + </p> + <p> + “Why badly?” asked Nikitin, beginning to feel irritation against the white + cat, who was stretching and arching its back. “As far as I know, he has + made no proposal and has given her no promises.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why was he so often at the house? If he didn’t mean to marry her, he + oughtn’t to have come.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin put out the candle and got into bed. But he felt disinclined to + lie down and to sleep. He felt as though his head were immense and empty + as a barn, and that new, peculiar thoughts were wandering about in it like + tall shadows. He thought that, apart from the soft light of the ikon lamp, + that beamed upon their quiet domestic happiness, that apart from this + little world in which he and this cat lived so peacefully and happily, + there was another world. . . . And he had a passionate, poignant longing + to be in that other world, to work himself at some factory or big + workshop, to address big audiences, to write, to publish, to raise a stir, + to exhaust himself, to suffer. . . . He wanted something that would + engross him till he forgot himself, ceased to care for the personal + happiness which yielded him only sensations so monotonous. And suddenly + there rose vividly before his imagination the figure of Shebaldin with his + clean-shaven face, saying to him with horror: “You haven’t even read + Lessing! You are quite behind the times! How you have gone to seed!” + </p> + <p> + Masha woke up and again drank some water. He glanced at her neck, at her + plump shoulders and throat, and remembered the word the brigadier-general + had used in church—“rose.” + </p> + <p> + “Rose,” he muttered, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + His laugh was answered by a sleepy growl from Mushka under the bed: “Rrr . + . . nga-nga-nga . . . !” + </p> + <p> + A heavy anger sank like a cold weight on his heart, and he felt tempted to + say something rude to Masha, and even to jump up and hit her; his heart + began throbbing. + </p> + <p> + “So then,” he asked, restraining himself, “since I went to your house, I + was bound in duty to marry you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. You know that very well.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s nice.” And a minute later he repeated: “That’s nice.” + </p> + <p> + To relieve the throbbing of his heart, and to avoid saying too much, + Nikitin went to his study and lay down on the sofa, without a pillow; then + he lay on the floor on the carpet. + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense it is!” he said to reassure himself. “You are a teacher, + you are working in the noblest of callings. . . . What need have you of + any other world? What rubbish!” + </p> + <p> + But almost immediately he told himself with conviction that he was not a + real teacher, but simply a government employé, as commonplace and mediocre + as the Czech who taught Greek. He had never had a vocation for teaching, + he knew nothing of the theory of teaching, and never had been interested + in the subject; he did not know how to treat children; he did not + understand the significance of what he taught, and perhaps did not teach + the right things. Poor Ippolit Ippolititch had been frankly stupid, and + all the boys, as well as his colleagues, knew what he was and what to + expect from him; but he, Nikitin, like the Czech, knew how to conceal his + stupidity and cleverly deceived every one by pretending that, thank God, + his teaching was a success. These new ideas frightened Nikitin; he + rejected them, called them stupid, and believed that all this was due to + his nerves, that he would laugh at himself. + </p> + <p> + And he did, in fact, by the morning laugh at himself and call himself an + old woman; but it was clear to him that his peace of mind was lost, + perhaps, for ever, and that in that little two-story house happiness was + henceforth impossible for him. He realized that the illusion had + evaporated, and that a new life of unrest and clear sight was beginning + which was incompatible with peace and personal happiness. + </p> + <p> + Next day, which was Sunday, he was at the school chapel, and there met his + colleagues and the director. It seemed to him that they were entirely + preoccupied with concealing their ignorance and discontent with life, and + he, too, to conceal his uneasiness, smiled affably and talked of + trivialities. Then he went to the station and saw the mail train come in + and go out, and it was agreeable to him to be alone and not to have to + talk to any one. + </p> + <p> + At home he found Varya and his father-in-law, who had come to dinner. + Varya’s eyes were red with crying, and she complained of a headache, while + Shelestov ate a great deal, saying that young men nowadays were + unreliable, and that there was very little gentlemanly feeling among them. + </p> + <p> + “It’s loutishness!” he said. “I shall tell him so to his face: ‘It’s + loutishness, sir,’ I shall say.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin smiled affably and helped Masha to look after their guests, but + after dinner he went to his study and shut the door. + </p> + <p> + The March sun was shining brightly in at the windows and shedding its warm + rays on the table. It was only the twentieth of the month, but already the + cabmen were driving with wheels, and the starlings were noisy in the + garden. It was just the weather in which Masha would come in, put one arm + round his neck, tell him the horses were saddled or the chaise was at the + door, and ask him what she should put on to keep warm. Spring was + beginning as exquisitely as last spring, and it promised the same joys. . + . . But Nikitin was thinking that it would be nice to take a holiday and + go to Moscow, and stay at his old lodgings there. In the next room they + were drinking coffee and talking of Captain Polyansky, while he tried not + to listen and wrote in his diary: “Where am I, my God? I am surrounded by + vulgarity and vulgarity. Wearisome, insignificant people, pots of sour + cream, jugs of milk, cockroaches, stupid women. . . . There is nothing + more terrible, mortifying, and distressing than vulgarity. I must escape + from here, I must escape today, or I shall go out of my mind!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NOT WANTED + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ETWEEN six and + seven o’clock on a July evening, a crowd of summer visitors—mostly + fathers of families—burdened with parcels, portfolios, and ladies’ + hat-boxes, was trailing along from the little station of Helkovo, in the + direction of the summer villas. They all looked exhausted, hungry, and + ill-humoured, as though the sun were not shining and the grass were not + green for them. + </p> + <p> + Trudging along among the others was Pavel Matveyitch Zaikin, a member of + the Circuit Court, a tall, stooping man, in a cheap cotton dust-coat and + with a cockade on his faded cap. He was perspiring, red in the face, and + gloomy. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Do you come out to your holiday home every day?” said a summer visitor, + in ginger-coloured trousers, addressing him. + </p> + <p> + “No, not every day,” Zaikin answered sullenly. “My wife and son are + staying here all the while, and I come down two or three times a week. I + haven’t time to come every day; besides, it is expensive.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re right there; it is expensive,” sighed he of the ginger trousers. + “In town you can’t walk to the station, you have to take a cab; and then, + the ticket costs forty-two kopecks; you buy a paper for the journey; one + is tempted to drink a glass of vodka. It’s all petty expenditure not worth + considering, but, mind you, in the course of the summer it will run up to + some two hundred roubles. Of course, to be in the lap of Nature is worth + any money—I don’t dispute it . . . idyllic and all the rest of it; + but of course, with the salary an official gets, as you know yourself, + every farthing has to be considered. If you waste a halfpenny you lie + awake all night. . . . Yes. . . I receive, my dear sir—I haven’t the + honour of knowing your name—I receive a salary of very nearly two + thousand roubles a year. I am a civil councillor, I smoke second-rate + tobacco, and I haven’t a rouble to spare to buy Vichy water, prescribed me + by the doctor for gall-stones.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s altogether abominable,” said Zaikin after a brief silence. “I + maintain, sir, that summer holidays are the invention of the devil and of + woman. The devil was actuated in the present instance by malice, woman by + excessive frivolity. Mercy on us, it is not life at all; it is hard + labour, it is hell! It’s hot and stifling, you can hardly breathe, and you + wander about like a lost soul and can find no refuge. In town there is no + furniture, no servants. . . everything has been carried off to the villa: + you eat what you can get; you go without your tea because there is no one + to heat the samovar; you can’t wash yourself; and when you come down here + into this ‘lap of Nature’ you have to walk, if you please, through the + dust and heat. . . . Phew! Are you married?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. . . three children,” sighs Ginger Trousers. + </p> + <p> + “It’s abominable altogether. . . . It’s a wonder we are still alive.” + </p> + <p> + At last the summer visitors reached their destination. Zaikin said + good-bye to Ginger Trousers and went into his villa. He found a death-like + silence in the house. He could hear nothing but the buzzing of the gnats, + and the prayer for help of a fly destined for the dinner of a spider. The + windows were hung with muslin curtains, through which the faded flowers of + the geraniums showed red. On the unpainted wooden walls near the + oleographs flies were slumbering. There was not a soul in the passage, the + kitchen, or the dining-room. In the room which was called indifferently + the parlour or the drawing-room, Zaikin found his son Petya, a little boy + of six. Petya was sitting at the table, and breathing loudly with his + lower lip stuck out, was engaged in cutting out the figure of a knave of + diamonds from a card. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s you, father!” he said, without turning round. “Good-evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening. . . . And where is mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother? She is gone with Olga Kirillovna to a rehearsal of the play. The + day after tomorrow they will have a performance. And they will take me, + too. . . . And will you go?” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . . When is she coming back?” + </p> + <p> + “She said she would be back in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is Natalya?” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma took Natalya with her to help her dress for the performance, and + Akulina has gone to the wood to get mushrooms. Father, why is it that when + gnats bite you their stomachs get red?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. . . . Because they suck blood. So there is no one in the + house, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No one; I am all alone in the house.” + </p> + <p> + Zaikin sat down in an easy-chair, and for a moment gazed blankly at the + window. + </p> + <p> + “Who is going to get our dinner?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “They haven’t cooked any dinner today, father. Mamma thought you were not + coming today, and did not order any dinner. She is going to have dinner + with Olga Kirillovna at the rehearsal.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you very much; and you, what have you to eat?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve had some milk. They bought me six kopecks’ worth of milk. And, + father, why do gnats suck blood?” + </p> + <p> + Zaikin suddenly felt as though something heavy were rolling down on his + liver and beginning to gnaw it. He felt so vexed, so aggrieved, and so + bitter, that he was choking and tremulous; he wanted to jump up, to bang + something on the floor, and to burst into loud abuse; but then he + remembered that his doctor had absolutely forbidden him all excitement, so + he got up, and making an effort to control himself, began whistling a tune + from “Les Huguenots.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, can you act in plays?” he heard Petya’s voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t worry me with stupid questions!” said Zaikin, getting angry. + “He sticks to one like a leaf in the bath! Here you are, six years old, + and just as silly as you were three years ago. . . . Stupid, neglected + child! Why are you spoiling those cards, for instance? How dare you spoil + them?” + </p> + <p> + “These cards aren’t yours,” said Petya, turning round. “Natalya gave them + me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are telling fibs, you are telling fibs, you horrid boy!” said Zaikin, + growing more and more irritated. “You are always telling fibs! You want a + whipping, you horrid little pig! I will pull your ears!” + </p> + <p> + Petya leapt up, and craning his neck, stared fixedly at his father’s red + and wrathful face. His big eyes first began blinking, then were dimmed + with moisture, and the boy’s face began working. + </p> + <p> + “But why are you scolding?” squealed Petya. “Why do you attack me, you + stupid? I am not interfering with anybody; I am not naughty; I do what I + am told, and yet . . . you are cross! Why are you scolding me?” + </p> + <p> + The boy spoke with conviction, and wept so bitterly that Zaikin felt + conscience-stricken. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, really, why am I falling foul of him?” he thought. “Come, come,” he + said, touching the boy on the shoulder. “I am sorry, Petya . . . forgive + me. You are my good boy, my nice boy, I love you.” + </p> + <p> + Petya wiped his eyes with his sleeve, sat down, with a sigh, in the same + place and began cutting out the queen. Zaikin went off to his own room. He + stretched himself on the sofa, and putting his hands behind his head, sank + into thought. The boy’s tears had softened his anger, and by degrees the + oppression on his liver grew less. He felt nothing but exhaustion and + hunger. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” he heard on the other side of the door, “shall I show you my + collection of insects?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, show me.” + </p> + <p> + Petya came into the study and handed his father a long green box. Before + raising it to his ear Zaikin could hear a despairing buzz and the + scratching of claws on the sides of the box. Opening the lid, he saw a + number of butterflies, beetles, grasshoppers, and flies fastened to the + bottom of the box with pins. All except two or three butterflies were + still alive and moving. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the grasshopper is still alive!” said Petya in surprise. “I caught + him yesterday morning, and he is still alive!” + </p> + <p> + “Who taught you to pin them in this way?” + </p> + <p> + “Olga Kirillovna.” + </p> + <p> + “Olga Kirillovna ought to be pinned down like that herself!” said Zaikin + with repulsion. “Take them away! It’s shameful to torture animals.” + </p> + <p> + “My God! How horribly he is being brought up!” he thought, as Petya went + out. + </p> + <p> + Pavel Matveyitch forgot his exhaustion and hunger, and thought of nothing + but his boy’s future. Meanwhile, outside the light was gradually fading. . + . . He could hear the summer visitors trooping back from the evening + bathe. Some one was stopping near the open dining-room window and + shouting: “Do you want any mushrooms?” And getting no answer, shuffled on + with bare feet. . . . But at last, when the dusk was so thick that the + outlines of the geraniums behind the muslin curtain were lost, and whiffs + of the freshness of evening were coming in at the window, the door of the + passage was thrown open noisily, and there came a sound of rapid + footsteps, talk, and laughter. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Mamma!” shrieked Petya. + </p> + <p> + Zaikin peeped out of his study and saw his wife, Nadyezhda Stepanovna, + healthy and rosy as ever; with her he saw Olga Kirillovna, a spare woman + with fair hair and heavy freckles, and two unknown men: one a lanky young + man with curly red hair and a big Adam’s apple; the other, a short stubby + man with a shaven face like an actor’s and a bluish crooked chin. + </p> + <p> + “Natalya, set the samovar,” cried Nadyezhda Stepanovna, with a loud rustle + of her skirts. “I hear Pavel Matveyitch is come. Pavel, where are you? + Good-evening, Pavel!” she said, running into the study breathlessly. “So + you’ve come. I am so glad. . . . Two of our amateurs have come with me. . + . . Come, I’ll introduce you. . . . Here, the taller one is Koromyslov . . + . he sings splendidly; and the other, the little one . . . is called + Smerkalov: he is a real actor . . . he recites magnificently. Oh, how + tired I am! We have just had a rehearsal. . . . It goes splendidly. We are + acting ‘The Lodger with the Trombone’ and ‘Waiting for Him.’ . . . The + performance is the day after tomorrow. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you bring them?” asked Zaikin. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t help it, Poppet; after tea we must rehearse our parts and sing + something. . . . I am to sing a duet with Koromyslov. . . . Oh, yes, I was + almost forgetting! Darling, send Natalya to get some sardines, vodka, + cheese, and something else. They will most likely stay to supper. . . . + Oh, how tired I am!” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! I’ve no money.” + </p> + <p> + “You must, Poppet! It would be awkward! Don’t make me blush.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Natalya was sent for vodka and savouries; Zaikin, after + drinking tea and eating a whole French loaf, went to his bedroom and lay + down on the bed, while Nadyezhda Stepanovna and her visitors, with much + noise and laughter, set to work to rehearse their parts. For a long time + Pavel Matveyitch heard Koromyslov’s nasal reciting and Smerkalov’s + theatrical exclamations. . . . The rehearsal was followed by a long + conversation, interrupted by the shrill laughter of Olga Kirillovna. + Smerkalov, as a real actor, explained the parts with aplomb and heat. . . + . + </p> + <p> + Then followed the duet, and after the duet there was the clatter of + crockery. . . . Through his drowsiness Zaikin heard them persuading + Smerkalov to read “The Woman who was a Sinner,” and heard him, after + affecting to refuse, begin to recite. He hissed, beat himself on the + breast, wept, laughed in a husky bass. . . . Zaikin scowled and hid his + head under the quilt. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a long way for you to go, and it’s dark,” he heard Nadyezhda + Stepanovna’s voice an hour later. “Why shouldn’t you stay the night here? + Koromyslov can sleep here in the drawing-room on the sofa, and you, + Smerkalov, in Petya’s bed. . . . I can put Petya in my husband’s study. . + . . Do stay, really!” + </p> + <p> + At last when the clock was striking two, all was hushed, the bedroom door + opened, and Nadyezhda Stepanovna appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Pavel, are you asleep?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “No; why?” + </p> + <p> + “Go into your study, darling, and lie on the sofa. I am going to put Olga + Kirillovna here, in your bed. Do go, dear! I would put her to sleep in the + study, but she is afraid to sleep alone. . . . Do get up!” + </p> + <p> + Zaikin got up, threw on his dressing-gown, and taking his pillow, crept + wearily to the study. . . . Feeling his way to his sofa, he lighted a + match, and saw Petya lying on the sofa. The boy was not asleep, and, + looking at the match with wide-open eyes: + </p> + <p> + “Father, why is it gnats don’t go to sleep at night?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because . . . because . . . you and I are not wanted. . . . We have + nowhere to sleep even.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, and why is it Olga Kirillovna has freckles on her face?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shut up! I am tired of you.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s thought, Zaikin dressed and went out into the street for + a breath of air. . . . He looked at the grey morning sky, at the + motionless clouds, heard the lazy call of the drowsy corncrake, and began + dreaming of the next day, when he would go to town, and coming back from + the court would tumble into bed. . . . Suddenly the figure of a man + appeared round the corner. + </p> + <p> + “A watchman, no doubt,” thought Zaikin. But going nearer and looking more + closely he recognized in the figure the summer visitor in the ginger + trousers. + </p> + <p> + “You’re not asleep?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, I can’t sleep,” sighed Ginger Trousers. “I am enjoying Nature . . . . + A welcome visitor, my wife’s mother, arrived by the night train, you know. + She brought with her our nieces . . . splendid girls! I was delighted to + see them, although . . . it’s very damp! And you, too, are enjoying + Nature?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” grunted Zaikin, “I am enjoying it, too. . . . Do you know whether + there is any sort of tavern or restaurant in the neighbourhood?” + </p> + <p> + Ginger Trousers raised his eyes to heaven and meditated profoundly. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TYPHUS + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> YOUNG lieutenant + called Klimov was travelling from Petersburg to Moscow in a smoking + carriage of the mail train. Opposite him was sitting an elderly man with a + shaven face like a sea captain’s, by all appearances a well-to-do Finn or + Swede. He pulled at his pipe the whole journey and kept talking about the + same subject: + </p> + <p> + “Ha, you are an officer! I have a brother an officer too, only he is a + naval officer. . . . He is a naval officer, and he is stationed at + Kronstadt. Why are you going to Moscow?” + </p> + <p> + “I am serving there.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! And are you a family man?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I live with my sister and aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “My brother’s an officer, only he is a naval officer; he has a wife and + three children. Ha!” + </p> + <p> + The Finn seemed continually surprised at something, and gave a broad + idiotic grin when he exclaimed “Ha!” and continually puffed at his + stinking pipe. Klimov, who for some reason did not feel well, and found it + burdensome to answer questions, hated him with all his heart. He dreamed + of how nice it would be to snatch the wheezing pipe out of his hand and + fling it under the seat, and drive the Finn himself into another + compartment. + </p> + <p> + “Detestable people these Finns and . . . Greeks,” he thought. “Absolutely + superfluous, useless, detestable people. They simply fill up space on the + earthly globe. What are they for?” + </p> + <p> + And the thought of Finns and Greeks produced a feeling akin to sickness + all over his body. For the sake of comparison he tried to think of the + French, of the Italians, but his efforts to think of these people evoked + in his mind, for some reason, nothing but images of organ-grinders, naked + women, and the foreign oleographs which hung over the chest of drawers at + home, at his aunt’s. + </p> + <p> + Altogether the officer felt in an abnormal state. He could not arrange his + arms and legs comfortably on the seat, though he had the whole seat to + himself. His mouth felt dry and sticky; there was a heavy fog in his + brain; his thoughts seemed to be straying, not only within his head, but + outside his skull, among the seats and the people that were shrouded in + the darkness of night. Through the mist in his brain, as through a dream, + he heard the murmur of voices, the rumble of wheels, the slamming of + doors. The sounds of the bells, the whistles, the guards, the running to + and fro of passengers on the platforms, seemed more frequent than usual. + The time flew by rapidly, imperceptibly, and so it seemed as though the + train were stopping at stations every minute, and metallic voices crying + continually: + </p> + <p> + “Is the mail ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” was repeatedly coming from outside. + </p> + <p> + It seemed as though the man in charge of the heating came in too often to + look at the thermometer, that the noise of trains going in the opposite + direction and the rumble of the wheels over the bridges was incessant. The + noise, the whistles, the Finn, the tobacco smoke—all this mingling + with the menace and flickering of the misty images in his brain, the shape + and character of which a man in health can never recall, weighed upon + Klimov like an unbearable nightmare. In horrible misery he lifted his + heavy head, looked at the lamp in the rays of which shadows and misty + blurs seemed to be dancing. He wanted to ask for water, but his parched + tongue would hardly move, and he scarcely had strength to answer the + Finn’s questions. He tried to lie down more comfortably and go to sleep, + but he could not succeed. The Finn several times fell asleep, woke up + again, lighted his pipe, addressed him with his “Ha!” and went to sleep + again; and still the lieutenant’s legs could not get into a comfortable + position, and still the menacing images stood facing him. + </p> + <p> + At Spirovo he went out into the station for a drink of water. He saw + people sitting at the table and hurriedly eating. + </p> + <p> + “And how can they eat!” he thought, trying not to sniff the air, that + smelt of roast meat, and not to look at the munching mouths —they + both seemed to him sickeningly disgusting. + </p> + <p> + A good-looking lady was conversing loudly with a military man in a red + cap, and showing magnificent white teeth as she smiled; and the smile, and + the teeth, and the lady herself made on Klimov the same revolting + impression as the ham and the rissoles. He could not understand how it was + the military man in the red cap was not ill at ease, sitting beside her + and looking at her healthy, smiling face. + </p> + <p> + When after drinking some water he went back to his carriage, the Finn was + sitting smoking; his pipe was wheezing and squelching like a golosh with + holes in it in wet weather. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” he said, surprised; “what station is this?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” answered Klimov, lying down and shutting his mouth that he + might not breathe the acrid tobacco smoke. + </p> + <p> + “And when shall we reach Tver?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Excuse me, I . . . I can’t answer. I am ill. I caught cold + today.” + </p> + <p> + The Finn knocked his pipe against the window-frame and began talking of + his brother, the naval officer. Klimov no longer heard him; he was + thinking miserably of his soft, comfortable bed, of a bottle of cold + water, of his sister Katya, who was so good at making one comfortable, + soothing, giving one water. He even smiled when the vision of his orderly + Pavel, taking off his heavy stifling boots and putting water on the little + table, flitted through his imagination. He fancied that if he could only + get into his bed, have a drink of water, his nightmare would give place to + sound healthy sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Is the mail ready?” a hollow voice reached him from the distance. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered a bass voice almost at the window. + </p> + <p> + It was already the second or third station from Spirovo. + </p> + <p> + The time was flying rapidly in leaps and bounds, and it seemed as though + the bells, whistles, and stoppings would never end. In despair Klimov + buried his face in the corner of the seat, clutched his head in his hands, + and began again thinking of his sister Katya and his orderly Pavel, but + his sister and his orderly were mixed up with the misty images in his + brain, whirled round, and disappeared. His burning breath, reflected from + the back of the seat, seemed to scald his face; his legs were + uncomfortable; there was a draught from the window on his back; but, + however wretched he was, he did not want to change his position. . . . A + heavy nightmarish lethargy gradually gained possession of him and fettered + his limbs. + </p> + <p> + When he brought himself to raise his head, it was already light in the + carriage. The passengers were putting on their fur coats and moving about. + The train was stopping. Porters in white aprons and with discs on their + breasts were bustling among the passengers and snatching up their boxes. + Klimov put on his great-coat, mechanically followed the other passengers + out of the carriage, and it seemed to him that not he, but some one else + was moving, and he felt that his fever, his thirst, and the menacing + images which had not let him sleep all night, came out of the carriage + with him. Mechanically he took his luggage and engaged a sledge-driver. + The man asked him for a rouble and a quarter to drive to Povarsky Street, + but he did not haggle, and without protest got submissively into the + sledge. He still understood the difference of numbers, but money had + ceased to have any value to him. + </p> + <p> + At home Klimov was met by his aunt and his sister Katya, a girl of + eighteen. When Katya greeted him she had a pencil and exercise book in her + hand, and he remembered that she was preparing for an examination as a + teacher. Gasping with fever, he walked aimlessly through all the rooms + without answering their questions or greetings, and when he reached his + bed he sank down on the pillow. The Finn, the red cap, the lady with the + white teeth, the smell of roast meat, the flickering blurs, filled his + consciousness, and by now he did not know where he was and did not hear + the agitated voices. + </p> + <p> + When he recovered consciousness he found himself in bed, undressed, saw a + bottle of water and Pavel, but it was no cooler, nor softer, nor more + comfortable for that. His arms and legs, as before, refused to lie + comfortably; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he heard the + wheezing of the Finn’s pipe. . . . A stalwart, black-bearded doctor was + busy doing something beside the bed, brushing against Pavel with his broad + back. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, it’s all right, young man,” he muttered. “Excellent, + excellent . . . goo-od, goo-od . . . !” + </p> + <p> + The doctor called Klimov “young man,” said “goo-od” instead of “good” and + “so-o” instead of “so.” + </p> + <p> + “So-o . . . so-o . . . so-o,” he murmured. “Goo-od, goo-od . . . ! + Excellent, young man. You mustn’t lose heart!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor’s rapid, careless talk, his well-fed countenance, and + condescending “young man,” irritated Klimov. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you call me ‘young man’?” he moaned. “What familiarity! Damn it + all!” + </p> + <p> + And he was frightened by his own voice. The voice was so dried up, so weak + and peevish, that he would not have known it. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent, excellent!” muttered the doctor, not in the least offended. . + . . “You mustn’t get angry, so-o, so-o, so-s. . . .” + </p> + <p> + And the time flew by at home with the same startling swiftness as in the + railway carriage. The daylight was continually being replaced by the dusk + of evening. The doctor seemed never to leave his bedside, and he heard at + every moment his “so-o, so-o, so-o.” A continual succession of people was + incessantly crossing the bedroom. Among them were: Pavel, the Finn, + Captain Yaroshevitch, Lance-Corporal Maximenko, the red cap, the lady with + the white teeth, the doctor. They were all talking and waving their arms, + smoking and eating. Once by daylight Klimov saw the chaplain of the + regiment, Father Alexandr, who was standing before the bed, wearing a + stole and with a prayer-book in his hand. He was muttering something with + a grave face such as Klimov had never seen in him before. The lieutenant + remembered that Father Alexandr used in a friendly way to call all the + Catholic officers “Poles,” and wanting to amuse him, he cried: + </p> + <p> + “Father, Yaroshevitch the Pole has climbed up a pole!” + </p> + <p> + But Father Alexandr, a light-hearted man who loved a joke, did not smile, + but became graver than ever, and made the sign of the cross over Klimov. + At night-time by turn two shadows came noiselessly in and out; they were + his aunt and sister. His sister’s shadow knelt down and prayed; she bowed + down to the ikon, and her grey shadow on the wall bowed down too, so that + two shadows were praying. The whole time there was a smell of roast meat + and the Finn’s pipe, but once Klimov smelt the strong smell of incense. He + felt so sick he could not lie still, and began shouting: + </p> + <p> + “The incense! Take away the incense!” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. He could only hear the subdued singing of the priest + somewhere and some one running upstairs. + </p> + <p> + When Klimov came to himself there was not a soul in his bedroom. The + morning sun was streaming in at the window through the lower blind, and a + quivering sunbeam, bright and keen as the sword’s edge, was flashing on + the glass bottle. He heard the rattle of wheels— so there was no + snow now in the street. The lieutenant looked at the ray, at the familiar + furniture, at the door, and the first thing he did was to laugh. His chest + and stomach heaved with delicious, happy, tickling laughter. His whole + body from head to foot was overcome by a sensation of infinite happiness + and joy in life, such as the first man must have felt when he was created + and first saw the world. Klimov felt a passionate desire for movement, + people, talk. His body lay a motionless block; only his hands stirred, but + that he hardly noticed, and his whole attention was concentrated on + trifles. He rejoiced in his breathing, in his laughter, rejoiced in the + existence of the water-bottle, the ceiling, the sunshine, the tape on the + curtains. God’s world, even in the narrow space of his bedroom, seemed + beautiful, varied, grand. When the doctor made his appearance, the + lieutenant was thinking what a delicious thing medicine was, how charming + and pleasant the doctor was, and how nice and interesting people were in + general. + </p> + <p> + “So-o, so, so. . . Excellent, excellent! . . . Now we are well again. . . + . Goo-od, goo-od!” the doctor pattered. + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant listened and laughed joyously; he remembered the Finn, the + lady with the white teeth, the train, and he longed to smoke, to eat. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor,” he said, “tell them to give me a crust of rye bread and salt, + and . . . and sardines.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor refused; Pavel did not obey the order, and did not go for the + bread. The lieutenant could not bear this and began crying like a naughty + child. + </p> + <p> + “Baby!” laughed the doctor. “Mammy, bye-bye!” + </p> + <p> + Klimov laughed, too, and when the doctor went away he fell into a sound + sleep. He woke up with the same joyfulness and sensation of happiness. His + aunt was sitting near the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, aunt,” he said joyfully. “What has been the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Spotted typhus.” + </p> + <p> + “Really. But now I am well, quite well! Where is Katya?” + </p> + <p> + “She is not at home. I suppose she has gone somewhere from her + examination.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady said this and looked at her stocking; her lips began + quivering, she turned away, and suddenly broke into sobs. Forgetting the + doctor’s prohibition in her despair, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Katya, Katya! Our angel is gone! Is gone!” + </p> + <p> + She dropped her stocking and bent down to it, and as she did so her cap + fell off her head. Looking at her grey head and understanding nothing, + Klimov was frightened for Katya, and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Where is she, aunt?” + </p> + <p> + The old woman, who had forgotten Klimov and was thinking only of her + sorrow, said: + </p> + <p> + “She caught typhus from you, and is dead. She was buried the day before + yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + This terrible, unexpected news was fully grasped by Klimov’s + consciousness; but terrible and startling as it was, it could not overcome + the animal joy that filled the convalescent. He cried and laughed, and + soon began scolding because they would not let him eat. + </p> + <p> + Only a week later when, leaning on Pavel, he went in his dressing-gown to + the window, looked at the overcast spring sky and listened to the + unpleasant clang of the old iron rails which were being carted by, his + heart ached, he burst into tears, and leaned his forehead against the + window-frame. + </p> + <p> + “How miserable I am!” he muttered. “My God, how miserable!” + </p> + <p> + And joy gave way to the boredom of everyday life and the feeling of his + irrevocable loss. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A MISFORTUNE + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OFYA PETROVNA, the + wife of Lubyantsev the notary, a handsome young woman of five-and-twenty, + was walking slowly along a track that had been cleared in the wood, with + Ilyin, a lawyer who was spending the summer in the neighbourhood. It was + five o’clock in the evening. Feathery-white masses of cloud stood + overhead; patches of bright blue sky peeped out between them. The clouds + stood motionless, as though they had caught in the tops of the tall old + pine-trees. It was still and sultry. + </p> + <p> + Farther on, the track was crossed by a low railway embankment on which a + sentinel with a gun was for some reason pacing up and down. Just beyond + the embankment there was a large white church with six domes and a rusty + roof. + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect to meet you here,” said Sofya Petrovna, looking at the + ground and prodding at the last year’s leaves with the tip of her parasol, + “and now I am glad we have met. I want to speak to you seriously and once + for all. I beg you, Ivan Mihalovitch, if you really love and respect me, + please make an end of this pursuit of me! You follow me about like a + shadow, you are continually looking at me not in a nice way, making love + to me, writing me strange letters, and . . . and I don’t know where it’s + all going to end! Why, what can come of it?” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin said nothing. Sofya Petrovna walked on a few steps and continued: + </p> + <p> + “And this complete transformation in you all came about in the course of + two or three weeks, after five years’ friendship. I don’t know you, Ivan + Mihalovitch!” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna stole a glance at her companion. Screwing up his eyes, he + was looking intently at the fluffy clouds. His face looked angry, + ill-humoured, and preoccupied, like that of a man in pain forced to listen + to nonsense. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder you don’t see it yourself,” Madame Lubyantsev went on, shrugging + her shoulders. “You ought to realize that it’s not a very nice part you + are playing. I am married; I love and respect my husband. . . . I have a + daughter . . . . Can you think all that means nothing? Besides, as an old + friend you know my attitude to family life and my views as to the sanctity + of marriage.” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin cleared his throat angrily and heaved a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Sanctity of marriage . . .” he muttered. “Oh, Lord!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. . . . I love my husband, I respect him; and in any case I value + the peace of my home. I would rather let myself be killed than be a cause + of unhappiness to Andrey and his daughter. . . . And I beg you, Ivan + Mihalovitch, for God’s sake, leave me in peace! Let us be as good, true + friends as we used to be, and give up these sighs and groans, which really + don’t suit you. It’s settled and over! Not a word more about it. Let us + talk of something else.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna again stole a glance at Ilyin’s face. Ilyin was looking up; + he was pale, and was angrily biting his quivering lips. She could not + understand why he was angry and why he was indignant, but his pallor + touched her. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be angry; let us be friends,” she said affectionately. “Agreed? + Here’s my hand.” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin took her plump little hand in both of his, squeezed it, and slowly + raised it to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a schoolboy,” he muttered. “I am not in the least tempted by + friendship with the woman I love.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, enough! It’s settled and done with. We have reached the seat; let + us sit down.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna’s soul was filled with a sweet sense of relief: the most + difficult and delicate thing had been said, the painful question was + settled and done with. Now she could breathe freely and look Ilyin + straight in the face. She looked at him, and the egoistic feeling of the + superiority of the woman over the man who loves her, agreeably flattered + her. It pleased her to see this huge, strong man, with his manly, angry + face and his big black beard—clever, cultivated, and, people said, + talented—sit down obediently beside her and bow his head dejectedly. + For two or three minutes they sat without speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is settled or done with,” began Ilyin. “You repeat copy-book + maxims to me. ‘I love and respect my husband . . . the sanctity of + marriage. . . .’ I know all that without your help, and I could tell you + more, too. I tell you truthfully and honestly that I consider the way I am + behaving as criminal and immoral. What more can one say than that? But + what’s the good of saying what everybody knows? Instead of feeding + nightingales with paltry words, you had much better tell me what I am to + do.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve told you already—go away.” + </p> + <p> + “As you know perfectly well, I have gone away five times, and every time I + turned back on the way. I can show you my through tickets —I’ve kept + them all. I have not will enough to run away from you! I am struggling. I + am struggling horribly; but what the devil am I good for if I have no + backbone, if I am weak, cowardly! I can’t struggle with Nature! Do you + understand? I cannot! I run away from here, and she holds on to me and + pulls me back. Contemptible, loathsome weakness!” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin flushed crimson, got up, and walked up and down by the seat. + </p> + <p> + “I feel as cross as a dog,” he muttered, clenching his fists. “I hate and + despise myself! My God! like some depraved schoolboy, I am making love to + another man’s wife, writing idiotic letters, degrading myself . . . ugh!” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin clutched at his head, grunted, and sat down. “And then your + insincerity!” he went on bitterly. “If you do dislike my disgusting + behaviour, why have you come here? What drew you here? In my letters I + only ask you for a direct, definite answer—yes or no; but instead of + a direct answer, you contrive every day these ‘chance’ meetings with me + and regale me with copy-book maxims!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Lubyantsev was frightened and flushed. She suddenly felt the + awkwardness which a decent woman feels when she is accidentally discovered + undressed. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to suspect I am playing with you,” she muttered. “I have always + given you a direct answer, and . . . only today I’ve begged you . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Ough! as though one begged in such cases! If you were to say straight out + ‘Get away,’ I should have been gone long ago; but you’ve never said that. + You’ve never once given me a direct answer. Strange indecision! Yes, + indeed; either you are playing with me, or else . . .” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin leaned his head on his fists without finishing. Sofya Petrovna began + going over in her own mind the way she had behaved from beginning to end. + She remembered that not only in her actions, but even in her secret + thoughts, she had always been opposed to Ilyin’s love-making; but yet she + felt there was a grain of truth in the lawyer’s words. But not knowing + exactly what the truth was, she could not find answers to make to Ilyin’s + complaint, however hard she thought. It was awkward to be silent, and, + shrugging her shoulders, she said: + </p> + <p> + So I am to blame, it appears.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t blame you for your insincerity,” sighed Ilyin. “I did not mean + that when I spoke of it. . . . Your insincerity is natural and in the + order of things. If people agreed together and suddenly became sincere, + everything would go to the devil.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna was in no mood for philosophical reflections, but she was + glad of a chance to change the conversation, and asked: + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because only savage women and animals are sincere. Once civilization has + introduced a demand for such comforts as, for instance, feminine virtue, + sincerity is out of place. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin jabbed his stick angrily into the sand. Madame Lubyantsev listened + to him and liked his conversation, though a great deal of it she did not + understand. What gratified her most was that she, an ordinary woman, was + talked to by a talented man on “intellectual” subjects; it afforded her + great pleasure, too, to watch the working of his mobile, young face, which + was still pale and angry. She failed to understand a great deal that he + said, but what was clear to her in his words was the attractive boldness + with which the modern man without hesitation or doubt decides great + questions and draws conclusive deductions. + </p> + <p> + She suddenly realized that she was admiring him, and was alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, but I don’t understand,” she said hurriedly. “What makes you + talk of insincerity? I repeat my request again: be my good, true friend; + let me alone! I beg you most earnestly!” + </p> + <p> + “Very good; I’ll try again,” sighed Ilyin. “Glad to do my best. . . . Only + I doubt whether anything will come of my efforts. Either I shall put a + bullet through my brains or take to drink in an idiotic way. I shall come + to a bad end! There’s a limit to everything— to struggles with + Nature, too. Tell me, how can one struggle against madness? If you drink + wine, how are you to struggle against intoxication? What am I to do if + your image has grown into my soul, and day and night stands persistently + before my eyes, like that pine there at this moment? Come, tell me, what + hard and difficult thing can I do to get free from this abominable, + miserable condition, in which all my thoughts, desires, and dreams are no + longer my own, but belong to some demon who has taken possession of me? I + love you, love you so much that I am completely thrown out of gear; I’ve + given up my work and all who are dear to me; I’ve forgotten my God! I’ve + never been in love like this in my life.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna, who had not expected such a turn to their conversation, + drew away from Ilyin and looked into his face in dismay. Tears came into + his eyes, his lips were quivering, and there was an imploring, hungry + expression in his face. + </p> + <p> + “I love you!” he muttered, bringing his eyes near her big, frightened + eyes. “You are so beautiful! I am in agony now, but I swear I would sit + here all my life, suffering and looking in your eyes. But . . . be silent, + I implore you!” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna, feeling utterly disconcerted, tried to think as quickly as + possible of something to say to stop him. “I’ll go away,” she decided, but + before she had time to make a movement to get up, Ilyin was on his knees + before her. . . . He was clasping her knees, gazing into her face and + speaking passionately, hotly, eloquently. In her terror and confusion she + did not hear his words; for some reason now, at this dangerous moment, + while her knees were being agreeably squeezed and felt as though they were + in a warm bath, she was trying, with a sort of angry spite, to interpret + her own sensations. She was angry that instead of brimming over with + protesting virtue, she was entirely overwhelmed with weakness, apathy, and + emptiness, like a drunken man utterly reckless; only at the bottom of her + soul a remote bit of herself was malignantly taunting her: “Why don’t you + go? Is this as it should be? Yes?” + </p> + <p> + Seeking for some explanation, she could not understand how it was she did + not pull away the hand to which Ilyin was clinging like a leech, and why, + like Ilyin, she hastily glanced to right and to left to see whether any + one was looking. The clouds and the pines stood motionless, looking at + them severely, like old ushers seeing mischief, but bribed not to tell the + school authorities. The sentry stood like a post on the embankment and + seemed to be looking at the seat. + </p> + <p> + “Let him look,” thought Sofya Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + “But . . . but listen,” she said at last, with despair in her voice. “What + can come of this? What will be the end of this?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, I don’t know,” he whispered, waving off the disagreeable + questions. + </p> + <p> + They heard the hoarse, discordant whistle of the train. This cold, + irrelevant sound from the everyday world of prose made Sofya Petrovna + rouse herself. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t stay . . . it’s time I was at home,” she said, getting up + quickly. “The train is coming in. . . Andrey is coming by it! He will want + his dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna turned towards the embankment with a burning face. The + engine slowly crawled by, then came the carriages. It was not the local + train, as she had supposed, but a goods train. The trucks filed by against + the background of the white church in a long string like the days of a + man’s life, and it seemed as though it would never end. + </p> + <p> + But at last the train passed, and the last carriage with the guard and a + light in it had disappeared behind the trees. Sofya Petrovna turned round + sharply, and without looking at Ilyin, walked rapidly back along the + track. She had regained her self-possession. Crimson with shame, + humiliated not by Ilyin—no, but by her own cowardice, by the + shamelessness with which she, a chaste and high-principled woman, had + allowed a man, not her husband, to hug her knees—she had only one + thought now: to get home as quickly as possible to her villa, to her + family. The lawyer could hardly keep pace with her. Turning from the + clearing into a narrow path, she turned round and glanced at him so + quickly that she saw nothing but the sand on his knees, and waved to him + to drop behind. + </p> + <p> + Reaching home, Sofya Petrovna stood in the middle of her room for five + minutes without moving, and looked first at the window and then at her + writing-table. + </p> + <p> + “You low creature!” she said, upbraiding herself. “You low creature!” + </p> + <p> + To spite herself, she recalled in precise detail, keeping nothing back—she + recalled that though all this time she had been opposed to Ilyin’s + lovemaking, something had impelled her to seek an interview with him; and + what was more, when he was at her feet she had enjoyed it enormously. She + recalled it all without sparing herself, and now, breathless with shame, + she would have liked to slap herself in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Andrey!” she said to herself, trying as she thought of her husband + to put into her face as tender an expression as she could. “Varya, my poor + little girl, doesn’t know what a mother she has! Forgive me, my dear ones! + I love you so much . . . so much!” + </p> + <p> + And anxious to prove to herself that she was still a good wife and mother, + and that corruption had not yet touched that “sanctity of marriage” of + which she had spoken to Ilyin, Sofya Petrovna ran to the kitchen and + abused the cook for not having yet laid the table for Andrey Ilyitch. She + tried to picture her husband’s hungry and exhausted appearance, + commiserated him aloud, and laid the table for him with her own hands, + which she had never done before. Then she found her daughter Varya, picked + her up in her arms and hugged her warmly; the child seemed to her cold and + heavy, but she was unwilling to acknowledge this to herself, and she began + explaining to the child how good, kind, and honourable her papa was. + </p> + <p> + But when Andrey Ilyitch arrived soon afterwards she hardly greeted him. + The rush of false feeling had already passed off without proving anything + to her, only irritating and exasperating her by its falsity. She was + sitting by the window, feeling miserable and cross. It is only by being in + trouble that people can understand how far from easy it is to be the + master of one’s feelings and thoughts. Sofya Petrovna said afterwards that + there was a tangle within her which it was as difficult to unravel as to + count a flock of sparrows rapidly flying by. From the fact that she was + not overjoyed to see her husband, that she did not like his manner at + dinner, she concluded all of a sudden that she was beginning to hate her + husband. + </p> + <p> + Andrey Ilyitch, languid with hunger and exhaustion, fell upon the sausage + while waiting for the soup to be brought in, and ate it greedily, munching + noisily and moving his temples. + </p> + <p> + “My goodness!” thought Sofya Petrovna. “I love and respect him, but . . . + why does he munch so repulsively?” + </p> + <p> + The disorder in her thoughts was no less than the disorder in her + feelings. Like all persons inexperienced in combating unpleasant ideas, + Madame Lubyantsev did her utmost not to think of her trouble, and the + harder she tried the more vividly Ilyin, the sand on his knees, the fluffy + clouds, the train, stood out in her imagination. + </p> + <p> + “And why did I go there this afternoon like a fool?” she thought, + tormenting herself. “And am I really so weak that I cannot depend upon + myself?” + </p> + <p> + Fear magnifies danger. By the time Andrey Ilyitch was finishing the last + course, she had firmly made up her mind to tell her husband everything and + to flee from danger! + </p> + <p> + “I’ve something serious to say to you, Andrey,” she began after dinner + while her husband was taking off his coat and boots to lie down for a nap. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us leave this place!” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . . Where shall we go? It’s too soon to go back to town.” + </p> + <p> + “No; for a tour or something of that sort. + </p> + <p> + “For a tour . . .” repeated the notary, stretching. “I dream of that + myself, but where are we to get the money, and to whom am I to leave the + office?” + </p> + <p> + And thinking a little he added: + </p> + <p> + “Of course, you must be bored. Go by yourself if you like.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna agreed, but at once reflected that Ilyin would be delighted + with the opportunity, and would go with her in the same train, in the same + compartment. . . . She thought and looked at her husband, now satisfied + but still languid. For some reason her eyes rested on his feet—miniature, + almost feminine feet, clad in striped socks; there was a thread standing + out at the tip of each sock. + </p> + <p> + Behind the blind a bumble-bee was beating itself against the window-pane + and buzzing. Sofya Petrovna looked at the threads on the socks, listened + to the bee, and pictured how she would set off . . . . <i>vis-à -vis</i> + Ilyin would sit, day and night, never taking his eyes off her, wrathful at + his own weakness and pale with spiritual agony. He would call himself an + immoral schoolboy, would abuse her, tear his hair, but when darkness came + on and the passengers were asleep or got out at a station, he would seize + the opportunity to kneel before her and embrace her knees as he had at the + seat in the wood. . . . + </p> + <p> + She caught herself indulging in this day-dream. + </p> + <p> + “Listen. I won’t go alone,” she said. “You must come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Sofotchka!” sighed Lubyantsev. “One must be sensible and not + want the impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “You will come when you know all about it,” thought Sofya Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + Making up her mind to go at all costs, she felt that she was out of + danger. Little by little her ideas grew clearer; her spirits rose and she + allowed herself to think about it all, feeling that however much she + thought, however much she dreamed, she would go away. While her husband + was asleep, the evening gradually came on. She sat in the drawing-room and + played the piano. The greater liveliness out of doors, the sound of music, + but above all the thought that she was a sensible person, that she had + surmounted her difficulties, completely restored her spirits. Other women, + her appeased conscience told her, would probably have been carried off + their feet in her position, and would have lost their balance, while she + had almost died of shame, had been miserable, and was now running out of + the danger which perhaps did not exist! She was so touched by her own + virtue and determination that she even looked at herself two or three + times in the looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + When it got dark, visitors arrived. The men sat down in the dining-room to + play cards; the ladies remained in the drawing-room and the verandah. The + last to arrive was Ilyin. He was gloomy, morose, and looked ill. He sat + down in the corner of the sofa and did not move the whole evening. Usually + good-humoured and talkative, this time he remained silent, frowned, and + rubbed his eyebrows. When he had to answer some question, he gave a forced + smile with his upper lip only, and answered jerkily and irritably. Four or + five times he made some jest, but his jests sounded harsh and cutting. It + seemed to Sofya Petrovna that he was on the verge of hysterics. Only now, + sitting at the piano, she recognized fully for the first time that this + unhappy man was in deadly earnest, that his soul was sick, and that he + could find no rest. For her sake he was wasting the best days of his youth + and his career, spending the last of his money on a summer villa, + abandoning his mother and sisters, and, worst of all, wearing himself out + in an agonizing struggle with himself. From mere common humanity he ought + to be treated seriously. + </p> + <p> + She recognized all this clearly till it made her heart ache, and if at + that moment she had gone up to him and said to him, “No,” there would have + been a force in her voice hard to disobey. But she did not go up to him + and did not speak—indeed, never thought of doing so. The pettiness + and egoism of youth had never been more patent in her than that evening. + She realized that Ilyin was unhappy, and that he was sitting on the sofa + as though he were on hot coals; she felt sorry for him, but at the same + time the presence of a man who loved her to distraction, filled her soul + with triumph and a sense of her own power. She felt her youth, her beauty, + and her unassailable virtue, and, since she had decided to go away, gave + herself full licence for that evening. She flirted, laughed incessantly, + sang with peculiar feeling and gusto. Everything delighted and amused her. + She was amused at the memory of what had happened at the seat in the wood, + of the sentinel who had looked on. She was amused by her guests, by + Ilyin’s cutting jests, by the pin in his cravat, which she had never + noticed before. There was a red snake with diamond eyes on the pin; this + snake struck her as so amusing that she could have kissed it on the spot. + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna sang nervously, with defiant recklessness as though half + intoxicated, and she chose sad, mournful songs which dealt with wasted + hopes, the past, old age, as though in mockery of another’s grief. “‘And + old age comes nearer and nearer’ . . .” she sang. And what was old age to + her? + </p> + <p> + “It seems as though there is something going wrong with me,” she thought + from time to time through her laughter and singing. + </p> + <p> + The party broke up at twelve o’clock. Ilyin was the last to leave. Sofya + Petrovna was still reckless enough to accompany him to the bottom step of + the verandah. She wanted to tell him that she was going away with her + husband, and to watch the effect this news would produce on him. + </p> + <p> + The moon was hidden behind the clouds, but it was light enough for Sofya + Petrovna to see how the wind played with the skirts of his overcoat and + with the awning of the verandah. She could see, too, how white Ilyin was, + and how he twisted his upper lip in the effort to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Sonia, Sonitchka . . . my darling woman!” he muttered, preventing her + from speaking. “My dear! my sweet!” + </p> + <p> + In a rush of tenderness, with tears in his voice, he showered caressing + words upon her, that grew tenderer and tenderer, and even called her + “thou,” as though she were his wife or mistress. Quite unexpectedly he put + one arm round her waist and with the other hand took hold of her elbow. + </p> + <p> + “My precious! my delight!” he whispered, kissing the nape of her neck; “be + sincere; come to me at once!” + </p> + <p> + She slipped out of his arms and raised her head to give vent to her + indignation and anger, but the indignation did not come off, and all her + vaunted virtue and chastity was only sufficient to enable her to utter the + phrase used by all ordinary women on such occasions: + </p> + <p> + “You must be mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, let us go,” Ilyin continued. “I felt just now, as well as at the + seat in the wood, that you are as helpless as I am, Sonia . . . . You are + in the same plight! You love me and are fruitlessly trying to appease your + conscience. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that she was moving away, he caught her by her lace cuff and said + rapidly: + </p> + <p> + “If not today, then tomorrow you will have to give in! Why, then, this + waste of time? My precious, darling Sonia, the sentence is passed; why put + off the execution? Why deceive yourself?” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna tore herself from him and darted in at the door. Returning + to the drawing-room, she mechanically shut the piano, looked for a long + time at the music-stand, and sat down. She could not stand up nor think. + All that was left of her excitement and recklessness was a fearful + weakness, apathy, and dreariness. Her conscience whispered to her that she + had behaved badly, foolishly, that evening, like some madcap girl—that + she had just been embraced on the verandah, and still had an uneasy + feeling in her waist and her elbow. There was not a soul in the + drawing-room; there was only one candle burning. Madame Lubyantsev sat on + the round stool before the piano, motionless, as though expecting + something. And as though taking advantage of the darkness and her extreme + lassitude, an oppressive, overpowering desire began to assail her. Like a + boa-constrictor it gripped her limbs and her soul, and grew stronger every + second, and no longer menaced her as it had done, but stood clear before + her in all its nakedness. + </p> + <p> + She sat for half an hour without stirring, not restraining herself from + thinking of Ilyin, then she got up languidly and dragged herself to her + bedroom. Andrey Ilyitch was already in bed. She sat down by the open + window and gave herself up to desire. There was no “tangle” now in her + head; all her thoughts and feelings were bent with one accord upon a + single aim. She tried to struggle against it, but instantly gave it up. . + . . She understood now how strong and relentless was the foe. Strength and + fortitude were needed to combat him, and her birth, her education, and her + life had given her nothing to fall back upon. + </p> + <p> + “Immoral wretch! Low creature!” she nagged at herself for her weakness. + “So that’s what you’re like!” + </p> + <p> + Her outraged sense of propriety was moved to such indignation by this + weakness that she lavished upon herself every term of abuse she knew, and + told herself many offensive and humiliating truths. So, for instance, she + told herself that she never had been moral, that she had not come to grief + before simply because she had had no opportunity, that her inward conflict + during that day had all been a farce. . . . + </p> + <p> + “And even if I have struggled,” she thought, “what sort of struggle was + it? Even the woman who sells herself struggles before she brings herself + to it, and yet she sells herself. A fine struggle! Like milk, I’ve turned + in a day! In one day!” + </p> + <p> + She convicted herself of being tempted, not by feeling, not by Ilyin + personally, but by sensations which awaited her . . . an idle lady, having + her fling in the summer holidays, like so many! + </p> + <p> + “‘Like an unfledged bird when the mother has been slain,’” sang a husky + tenor outside the window. + </p> + <p> + “If I am to go, it’s time,” thought Sofya Petrovna. Her heart suddenly + began beating violently. + </p> + <p> + “Andrey!” she almost shrieked. “Listen! we . . . we are going? Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’ve told you already: you go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “But listen,” she began. “If you don’t go with me, you are in danger of + losing me. I believe I am . . . in love already.” + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” asked Andrey Ilyitch. + </p> + <p> + “It can’t make any difference to you who it is!” cried Sofya Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + Andrey Ilyitch sat up with his feet out of bed and looked wonderingly at + his wife’s dark figure. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a fancy!” he yawned. + </p> + <p> + He did not believe her, but yet he was frightened. After thinking a little + and asking his wife several unimportant questions, he delivered himself of + his opinions on the family, on infidelity . . . spoke listlessly for about + ten minutes and got into bed again. His moralizing produced no effect. + There are a great many opinions in the world, and a good half of them are + held by people who have never been in trouble! + </p> + <p> + In spite of the late hour, summer visitors were still walking outside. + Sofya Petrovna put on a light cape, stood a little, thought a little. . . + . She still had resolution enough to say to her sleeping husband: + </p> + <p> + “Are you asleep? I am going for a walk. . . . Will you come with me?” + </p> + <p> + That was her last hope. Receiving no answer, she went out. . . . It was + fresh and windy. She was conscious neither of the wind nor the darkness, + but went on and on. . . . An overmastering force drove her on, and it + seemed as though, if she had stopped, it would have pushed her in the + back. + </p> + <p> + “Immoral creature!” she muttered mechanically. “Low wretch!” + </p> + <p> + She was breathless, hot with shame, did not feel her legs under her, but + what drove her on was stronger than shame, reason, or fear. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A TRIFLE FROM LIFE + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> WELL-FED, + red-cheeked young man called Nikolay Ilyitch Belyaev, of thirty-two, who + was an owner of house property in Petersburg, and a devotee of the + race-course, went one evening to see Olga Ivanovna Irnin, with whom he was + living, or, to use his own expression, was dragging out a long, wearisome + romance. And, indeed, the first interesting and enthusiastic pages of this + romance had long been perused; now the pages dragged on, and still dragged + on, without presenting anything new or of interest. + </p> + <p> + Not finding Olga Ivanovna at home, my hero lay down on the lounge chair + and proceeded to wait for her in the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Nikolay Ilyitch!” he heard a child’s voice. “Mother will be + here directly. She has gone with Sonia to the dressmaker’s.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Ivanovna’s son, Alyosha—a boy of eight who looked graceful and + very well cared for, who was dressed like a picture, in a black velvet + jacket and long black stockings—was lying on the sofa in the same + room. He was lying on a satin cushion and, evidently imitating an acrobat + he had lately seen at the circus, stuck up in the air first one leg and + then the other. When his elegant legs were exhausted, he brought his arms + into play or jumped up impulsively and went on all fours, trying to stand + with his legs in the air. All this he was doing with the utmost gravity, + gasping and groaning painfully as though he regretted that God had given + him such a restless body. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, good-evening, my boy,” said Belyaev. “It’s you! I did not notice you. + Is your mother well?” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha, taking hold of the tip of his left toe with his right hand and + falling into the most unnatural attitude, turned over, jumped up, and + peeped at Belyaev from behind the big fluffy lampshade. + </p> + <p> + “What shall I say?” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “In reality mother’s + never well. You see, she is a woman, and women, Nikolay Ilyitch, have + always something the matter with them.” + </p> + <p> + Belyaev, having nothing better to do, began watching Alyosha’s face. He + had never before during the whole of his intimacy with Olga Ivanovna paid + any attention to the boy, and had completely ignored his existence; the + boy had been before his eyes, but he had not cared to think why he was + there and what part he was playing. + </p> + <p> + In the twilight of the evening, Alyosha’s face, with his white forehead + and black, unblinking eyes, unexpectedly reminded Belyaev of Olga Ivanovna + as she had been during the first pages of their romance. And he felt + disposed to be friendly to the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, insect,” he said; “let me have a closer look at you.” + </p> + <p> + The boy jumped off the sofa and skipped up to Belyaev. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” began Nikolay Ilyitch, putting a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. + “How are you getting on?” + </p> + <p> + “How shall I say! We used to get on a great deal better.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s very simple. Sonia and I used only to learn music and reading, and + now they give us French poetry to learn. Have you been shaved lately?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see you have. Your beard is shorter. Let me touch it. . . . Does + that hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it that if you pull one hair it hurts, but if you pull a lot at + once it doesn’t hurt a bit? Ha, ha! And, you know, it’s a pity you don’t + have whiskers. Here ought to be shaved . . . but here at the sides the + hair ought to be left. . . .” + </p> + <p> + The boy nestled up to Belyaev and began playing with his watch-chain. + </p> + <p> + “When I go to the high-school,” he said, “mother is going to buy me a + watch. I shall ask her to buy me a watch-chain like this. . . . Wh-at a + lo-ket! Father’s got a locket like that, only yours has little bars on it + and his has letters. . . . There’s mother’s portrait in the middle of his. + Father has a different sort of chain now, not made with rings, but like + ribbon. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know? Do you see your father?” + </p> + <p> + “I? M’m . . . no . . . I . . .” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha blushed, and in great confusion, feeling caught in a lie, began + zealously scratching the locket with his nail. . . . Belyaev looked + steadily into his face and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Do you see your father?” + </p> + <p> + “N-no!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, speak frankly, on your honour. . . . I see from your face you are + telling a fib. Once you’ve let a thing slip out it’s no good wriggling + about it. Tell me, do you see him? Come, as a friend.” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t tell mother?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “As though I should!” + </p> + <p> + “On your honour?” + </p> + <p> + “On my honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you swear?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you provoking boy! What do you take me for?” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha looked round him, then with wide-open eyes, whispered to him: + </p> + <p> + “Only, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell mother. . . . Don’t tell any one at + all, for it is a secret. I hope to goodness mother won’t find out, or we + should all catch it—Sonia, and I, and Pelagea . . . . Well, listen. + . . Sonia and I see father every Tuesday and Friday. When Pelagea takes us + for a walk before dinner we go to the Apfel Restaurant, and there is + father waiting for us. . . . He is always sitting in a room apart, where + you know there’s a marble table and an ash-tray in the shape of a goose + without a back. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “What do you do there?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! First we say how-do-you-do, then we all sit round the table, and + father treats us with coffee and pies. You know Sonia eats the meat-pies, + but I can’t endure meat-pies! I like the pies made of cabbage and eggs. We + eat such a lot that we have to try hard to eat as much as we can at + dinner, for fear mother should notice.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you talk about?” + </p> + <p> + “With father? About anything. He kisses us, he hugs us, tells us all sorts + of amusing jokes. Do you know, he says when we are grown up he is going to + take us to live with him. Sonia does not want to go, but I agree. Of + course, I should miss mother; but, then, I should write her letters! It’s + a queer idea, but we could come and visit her on holidays—couldn’t + we? Father says, too, that he will buy me a horse. He’s an awfully kind + man! I can’t understand why mother does not ask him to come and live with + us, and why she forbids us to see him. You know he loves mother very much. + He is always asking us how she is and what she is doing. When she was ill + he clutched his head like this, and . . . and kept running about. He + always tells us to be obedient and respectful to her. Listen. Is it true + that we are unfortunate?” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . . Why?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what father says. ‘You are unhappy children,’ he says. It’s + strange to hear him, really. ‘You are unhappy,’ he says, ‘I am unhappy, + and mother’s unhappy. You must pray to God,’ he says; ‘for yourselves and + for her.’” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha let his eyes rest on a stuffed bird and sank into thought. + </p> + <p> + “So . . .” growled Belyaev. “So that’s how you are going on. You arrange + meetings at restaurants. And mother does not know?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o. . . . How should she know? Pelagea would not tell her for anything, + you know. The day before yesterday he gave us some pears. As sweet as jam! + I ate two.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . . Well, and I say . . Listen. Did father say anything about me?” + </p> + <p> + “About you? What shall I say?” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha looked searchingly into Belyaev’s face and shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t say anything particular.” + </p> + <p> + “For instance, what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “You won’t be offended?” + </p> + <p> + “What next? Why, does he abuse me?” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t abuse you, but you know he is angry with you. He says mother’s + unhappy owing to you . . . and that you have ruined mother. You know he is + so queer! I explain to him that you are kind, that you never scold mother; + but he only shakes his head.” + </p> + <p> + “So he says I have ruined her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you mustn’t be offended, Nikolay Ilyitch.” + </p> + <p> + Belyaev got up, stood still a moment, and walked up and down the + drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “That’s strange and . . . ridiculous!” he muttered, shrugging his + shoulders and smiling sarcastically. “He’s entirely to blame, and I have + ruined her, eh? An innocent lamb, I must say. So he told you I ruined your + mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but . . . you said you would not be offended, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not offended, and . . . and it’s not your business. Why, it’s . . . + why, it’s positively ridiculous! I have been thrust into it like a chicken + in the broth, and now it seems I’m to blame!” + </p> + <p> + A ring was heard. The boy sprang up from his place and ran out. A minute + later a lady came into the room with a little girl; this was Olga + Ivanovna, Alyosha’s mother. Alyosha followed them in, skipping and + jumping, humming aloud and waving his hands. Belyaev nodded, and went on + walking up and down. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, whose fault is it if not mine?” he muttered with a snort. “He + is right! He is an injured husband.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” asked Olga Ivanovna. + </p> + <p> + “What about? . . . Why, just listen to the tales your lawful spouse is + spreading now! It appears that I am a scoundrel and a villain, that I have + ruined you and the children. All of you are unhappy, and I am the only + happy one! Wonderfully, wonderfully happy!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand, Nikolay. What’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, listen to this young gentleman!” said Belyaev, pointing to Alyosha. + </p> + <p> + Alyosha flushed crimson, then turned pale, and his whole face began + working with terror. + </p> + <p> + “Nikolay Ilyitch,” he said in a loud whisper. “Sh-sh!” + </p> + <p> + Olga Ivanovna looked in surprise at Alyosha, then at Belyaev, then at + Alyosha again. + </p> + <p> + “Just ask him,” Belyaev went on. “Your Pelagea, like a regular fool, takes + them about to restaurants and arranges meetings with their papa. But + that’s not the point: the point is that their dear papa is a victim, while + I’m a wretch who has broken up both your lives. . .” + </p> + <p> + “Nikolay Ilyitch,” moaned Alyosha. “Why, you promised on your word of + honour!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, get away!” said Belyaev, waving him off. “This is more important than + any word of honour. It’s the hypocrisy revolts me, the lying! . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand it,” said Olga Ivanovna, and tears glistened in her + eyes. “Tell me, Alyosha,” she turned to her son. “Do you see your father?” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha did not hear her; he was looking with horror at Belyaev. + </p> + <p> + “It’s impossible,” said his mother; “I will go and question Pelagea.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Ivanovna went out. + </p> + <p> + “I say, you promised on your word of honour!” said Alyosha, trembling all + over. + </p> + <p> + Belyaev dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and went on walking up and + down. He was absorbed in his grievance and was oblivious of the boy’s + presence, as he always had been. He, a grownup, serious person, had no + thought to spare for boys. And Alyosha sat down in the corner and told + Sonia with horror how he had been deceived. He was trembling, stammering, + and crying. It was the first time in his life that he had been brought + into such coarse contact with lying; till then he had not known that there + are in the world, besides sweet pears, pies, and expensive watches, a + great many things for which the language of children has no expression. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Party and Other Stories, +by Anton Chekhov + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PARTY *** + +***** This file should be named 13413-h.htm or 13413-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/1/13413/ + + + + +Etext produced by James Rusk + +HTML file produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Party and Other Stories + +Author: Anton Chekhov + +Release Date: September 9, 2004 [EBook #13413] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PARTY *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk + + + + + +THE TALES OF CHEKHOV + +VOLUME 4 + +THE PARTY AND OTHER STORIES + +BY + +ANTON TCHEKHOV + +Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE PARTY +TERROR +A WOMAN'S KINGDOM +A PROBLEM +THE KISS +'ANNA ON THE NECK' +THE TEACHER OF LITERATURE +NOT WANTED +TYPHUS +A MISFORTUNE +A TRIFLE FROM LIFE + + + + +THE PARTY + +I + +AFTER the festive dinner with its eight courses and its endless +conversation, Olga Mihalovna, whose husband's name-day was being +celebrated, went out into the garden. The duty of smiling and talking +incessantly, the clatter of the crockery, the stupidity of the +servants, the long intervals between the courses, and the stays she +had put on to conceal her condition from the visitors, wearied her +to exhaustion. She longed to get away from the house, to sit in the +shade and rest her heart with thoughts of the baby which was to be +born to her in another two months. She was used to these thoughts +coming to her as she turned to the left out of the big avenue into +the narrow path. Here in the thick shade of the plums and cherry-trees +the dry branches used to scratch her neck and shoulders; a spider's +web would settle on her face, and there would rise up in her mind +the image of a little creature of undetermined sex and undefined +features, and it began to seem as though it were not the spider's +web that tickled her face and neck caressingly, but that little +creature. When, at the end of the path, a thin wicker hurdle came +into sight, and behind it podgy beehives with tiled roofs; when in +the motionless, stagnant air there came a smell of hay and honey, +and a soft buzzing of bees was audible, then the little creature +would take complete possession of Olga Mihalovna. She used to sit +down on a bench near the shanty woven of branches, and fall to +thinking. + +This time, too, she went on as far as the seat, sat down, and began +thinking; but instead of the little creature there rose up in her +imagination the figures of the grown-up people whom she had just +left. She felt dreadfully uneasy that she, the hostess, had deserted +her guests, and she remembered how her husband, Pyotr Dmitritch, +and her uncle, Nikolay Nikolaitch, had argued at dinner about trial +by jury, about the press, and about the higher education of women. +Her husband, as usual, argued in order to show off his Conservative +ideas before his visitors--and still more in order to disagree +with her uncle, whom he disliked. Her uncle contradicted him and +wrangled over every word he uttered, so as to show the company that +he, Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch, still retained his youthful freshness +of spirit and free-thinking in spite of his fifty-nine years. And +towards the end of dinner even Olga Mihalovna herself could not +resist taking part and unskilfully attempting to defend university +education for women--not that that education stood in need of her +defence, but simply because she wanted to annoy her husband, who +to her mind was unfair. The guests were wearied by this discussion, +but they all thought it necessary to take part in it, and talked a +great deal, although none of them took any interest in trial by +jury or the higher education of women. . . . + +Olga Mihalovna was sitting on the nearest side of the hurdle near +the shanty. The sun was hidden behind the clouds. The trees and the +air were overcast as before rain, but in spite of that it was hot +and stifling. The hay cut under the trees on the previous day was +lying ungathered, looking melancholy, with here and there a patch +of colour from the faded flowers, and from it came a heavy, sickly +scent. It was still. The other side of the hurdle there was a +monotonous hum of bees. . . . + +Suddenly she heard footsteps and voices; some one was coming along +the path towards the beehouse. + +"How stifling it is!" said a feminine voice. "What do you think-- +is it going to rain, or not?" + +"It is going to rain, my charmer, but not before night," a very +familiar male voice answered languidly. "There will be a good rain." + +Olga Mihalovna calculated that if she made haste to hide in the +shanty they would pass by without seeing her, and she would not +have to talk and to force herself to smile. She picked up her skirts, +bent down and crept into the shanty. At once she felt upon her face, +her neck, her arms, the hot air as heavy as steam. If it had not +been for the stuffiness and the close smell of rye bread, fennel, +and brushwood, which prevented her from breathing freely, it would +have been delightful to hide from her visitors here under the +thatched roof in the dusk, and to think about the little creature. +It was cosy and quiet. + +"What a pretty spot!" said a feminine voice. "Let us sit here, Pyotr +Dmitritch." + +Olga Mihalovna began peeping through a crack between two branches. +She saw her husband, Pyotr Dmitritch, and Lubotchka Sheller, a girl +of seventeen who had not long left boarding-school. Pyotr Dmitritch, +with his hat on the back of his head, languid and indolent from +having drunk so much at dinner, slouched by the hurdle and raked +the hay into a heap with his foot; Lubotchka, pink with the heat +and pretty as ever, stood with her hands behind her, watching the +lazy movements of his big handsome person. + +Olga Mihalovna knew that her husband was attractive to women, and +did not like to see him with them. There was nothing out of the way +in Pyotr Dmitritch's lazily raking together the hay in order to sit +down on it with Lubotchka and chatter to her of trivialities; there +was nothing out of the way, either, in pretty Lubotchka's looking +at him with her soft eyes; but yet Olga Mihalovna felt vexed with +her husband and frightened and pleased that she could listen to +them. + +"Sit down, enchantress," said Pyotr Dmitritch, sinking down on the +hay and stretching. "That's right. Come, tell me something." + +"What next! If I begin telling you anything you will go to sleep." + +"Me go to sleep? Allah forbid! Can I go to sleep while eyes like +yours are watching me?" + +In her husband's words, and in the fact that he was lolling with +his hat on the back of his head in the presence of a lady, there +was nothing out of the way either. He was spoilt by women, knew +that they found him attractive, and had adopted with them a special +tone which every one said suited him. With Lubotchka he behaved as +with all women. But, all the same, Olga Mihalovna was jealous. + +"Tell me, please," said Lubotchka, after a brief silence--"is it +true that you are to be tried for something?" + +"I? Yes, I am . . . numbered among the transgressors, my charmer." + +"But what for?" + +"For nothing, but just . . . it's chiefly a question of politics," +yawned Pyotr Dmitritch--"the antagonisms of Left and Right. I, +an obscurantist and reactionary, ventured in an official paper to +make use of an expression offensive in the eyes of such immaculate +Gladstones as Vladimir Pavlovitch Vladimirov and our local justice +of the peace--Kuzma Grigoritch Vostryakov." + +Pytor Dmitritch yawned again and went on: + +"And it is the way with us that you may express disapproval of the +sun or the moon, or anything you like, but God preserve you from +touching the Liberals! Heaven forbid! A Liberal is like the poisonous +dry fungus which covers you with a cloud of dust if you accidentally +touch it with your finger." + +"What happened to you?" + +"Nothing particular. The whole flare-up started from the merest +trifle. A teacher, a detestable person of clerical associations, +hands to Vostryakov a petition against a tavern-keeper, charging +him with insulting language and behaviour in a public place. +Everything showed that both the teacher and the tavern-keeper were +drunk as cobblers, and that they behaved equally badly. If there +had been insulting behaviour, the insult had anyway been mutual. +Vostryakov ought to have fined them both for a breach of the peace +and have turned them out of the court--that is all. But that's +not our way of doing things. With us what stands first is not the +person--not the fact itself, but the trade-mark and label. However +great a rascal a teacher may be, he is always in the right because +he is a teacher; a tavern-keeper is always in the wrong because he +is a tavern-keeper and a money-grubber. Vostryakov placed the +tavern-keeper under arrest. The man appealed to the Circuit Court; +the Circuit Court triumphantly upheld Vostryakov's decision. Well, +I stuck to my own opinion. . . . Got a little hot. . . . That was +all." + +Pyotr Dmitritch spoke calmly with careless irony. In reality the +trial that was hanging over him worried him extremely. Olga Mihalovna +remembered how on his return from the unfortunate session he had +tried to conceal from his household how troubled he was, and how +dissatisfied with himself. As an intelligent man he could not help +feeling that he had gone too far in expressing his disagreement; +and how much lying had been needful to conceal that feeling from +himself and from others! How many unnecessary conversations there +had been! How much grumbling and insincere laughter at what was not +laughable! When he learned that he was to be brought up before the +Court, he seemed at once harassed and depressed; he began to sleep +badly, stood oftener than ever at the windows, drumming on the panes +with his fingers. And he was ashamed to let his wife see that he +was worried, and it vexed her. + +"They say you have been in the province of Poltava?" Lubotchka +questioned him. + +"Yes," answered Pyotr Dmitritch. "I came back the day before +yesterday." + +"I expect it is very nice there." + +"Yes, it is very nice, very nice indeed; in fact, I arrived just +in time for the haymaking, I must tell you, and in the Ukraine the +haymaking is the most poetical moment of the year. Here we have a +big house, a big garden, a lot of servants, and a lot going on, so +that you don't see the haymaking; here it all passes unnoticed. +There, at the farm, I have a meadow of forty-five acres as flat as +my hand. You can see the men mowing from any window you stand at. +They are mowing in the meadow, they are mowing in the garden. There +are no visitors, no fuss nor hurry either, so that you can't help +seeing, feeling, hearing nothing but the haymaking. There is a smell +of hay indoors and outdoors. There's the sound of the scythes from +sunrise to sunset. Altogether Little Russia is a charming country. +Would you believe it, when I was drinking water from the rustic +wells and filthy vodka in some Jew's tavern, when on quiet evenings +the strains of the Little Russian fiddle and the tambourines reached +me, I was tempted by a fascinating idea--to settle down on my +place and live there as long as I chose, far away from Circuit +Courts, intellectual conversations, philosophizing women, long +dinners. . . ." + +Pyotr Dmitritch was not lying. He was unhappy and really longed to +rest. And he had visited his Poltava property simply to avoid seeing +his study, his servants, his acquaintances, and everything that +could remind him of his wounded vanity and his mistakes. + +Lubotchka suddenly jumped up and waved her hands about in horror. + +"Oh! A bee, a bee!" she shrieked. "It will sting!" + +"Nonsense; it won't sting," said Pyotr Dmitritch. "What a coward +you are!" + +"No, no, no," cried Lubotchka; and looking round at the bees, she +walked rapidly back. + +Pyotr Dmitritch walked away after her, looking at her with a softened +and melancholy face. He was probably thinking, as he looked at her, +of his farm, of solitude, and--who knows?--perhaps he was even +thinking how snug and cosy life would be at the farm if his wife +had been this girl--young, pure, fresh, not corrupted by higher +education, not with child. . . . + +When the sound of their footsteps had died away, Olga Mihalovna +came out of the shanty and turned towards the house. She wanted to +cry. She was by now acutely jealous. She could understand that her +husband was worried, dissatisfied with himself and ashamed, and +when people are ashamed they hold aloof, above all from those nearest +to them, and are unreserved with strangers; she could understand, +also, that she had nothing to fear from Lubotchka or from those +women who were now drinking coffee indoors. But everything in general +was terrible, incomprehensible, and it already seemed to Olga +Mihalovna that Pyotr Dmitritch only half belonged to her. + +"He has no right to do it!" she muttered, trying to formulate her +jealousy and her vexation with her husband. "He has no right at +all. I will tell him so plainly!" + +She made up her mind to find her husband at once and tell him all +about it: it was disgusting, absolutely disgusting, that he was +attractive to other women and sought their admiration as though it +were some heavenly manna; it was unjust and dishonourable that he +should give to others what belonged by right to his wife, that he +should hide his soul and his conscience from his wife to reveal +them to the first pretty face he came across. What harm had his +wife done him? How was she to blame? Long ago she had been sickened +by his lying: he was for ever posing, flirting, saying what he did +not think, and trying to seem different from what he was and what +he ought to be. Why this falsity? Was it seemly in a decent man? +If he lied he was demeaning himself and those to whom he lied, and +slighting what he lied about. Could he not understand that if he +swaggered and posed at the judicial table, or held forth at dinner +on the prerogatives of Government, that he, simply to provoke her +uncle, was showing thereby that he had not a ha'p'orth of respect +for the Court, or himself, or any of the people who were listening +and looking at him? + +Coming out into the big avenue, Olga Mihalovna assumed an expression +of face as though she had just gone away to look after some domestic +matter. In the verandah the gentlemen were drinking liqueur and +eating strawberries: one of them, the Examining Magistrate--a +stout elderly man, _blagueur_ and wit--must have been telling +some rather free anecdote, for, seeing their hostess, he suddenly +clapped his hands over his fat lips, rolled his eyes, and sat down. +Olga Mihalovna did not like the local officials. She did not care +for their clumsy, ceremonious wives, their scandal-mongering, their +frequent visits, their flattery of her husband, whom they all hated. +Now, when they were drinking, were replete with food and showed no +signs of going away, she felt their presence an agonizing weariness; +but not to appear impolite, she smiled cordially to the Magistrate, +and shook her finger at him. She walked across the dining-room and +drawing-room smiling, and looking as though she had gone to give +some order and make some arrangement. "God grant no one stops me," +she thought, but she forced herself to stop in the drawing-room to +listen from politeness to a young man who was sitting at the piano +playing: after standing for a minute, she cried, "Bravo, bravo, M. +Georges!" and clapping her hands twice, she went on. + +She found her husband in his study. He was sitting at the table, +thinking of something. His face looked stern, thoughtful, and guilty. +This was not the same Pyotr Dmitritch who had been arguing at dinner +and whom his guests knew, but a different man--wearied, feeling +guilty and dissatisfied with himself, whom nobody knew but his wife. +He must have come to the study to get cigarettes. Before him lay +an open cigarette-case full of cigarettes, and one of his hands was +in the table drawer; he had paused and sunk into thought as he was +taking the cigarettes. + +Olga Mihalovna felt sorry for him. It was as clear as day that this +man was harassed, could find no rest, and was perhaps struggling +with himself. Olga Mihalovna went up to the table in silence: wanting +to show that she had forgotten the argument at dinner and was not +cross, she shut the cigarette-case and put it in her husband's coat +pocket. + +"What should I say to him?" she wondered; "I shall say that lying +is like a forest--the further one goes into it the more difficult +it is to get out of it. I will say to him, 'You have been carried +away by the false part you are playing; you have insulted people +who were attached to you and have done you no harm. Go and apologize +to them, laugh at yourself, and you will feel better. And if you +want peace and solitude, let us go away together.'" + +Meeting his wife's gaze, Pyotr Dmitritch's face immediately assumed +the expression it had worn at dinner and in the garden--indifferent +and slightly ironical. He yawned and got up. + +"It's past five," he said, looking at his watch. "If our visitors +are merciful and leave us at eleven, even then we have another six +hours of it. It's a cheerful prospect, there's no denying!" + +And whistling something, he walked slowly out of the study with his +usual dignified gait. She could hear him with dignified firmness +cross the dining-room, then the drawing-room, laugh with dignified +assurance, and say to the young man who was playing, "Bravo! bravo!" +Soon his footsteps died away: he must have gone out into the garden. +And now not jealousy, not vexation, but real hatred of his footsteps, +his insincere laugh and voice, took possession of Olga Mihalovna. +She went to the window and looked out into the garden. Pyotr Dmitritch +was already walking along the avenue. Putting one hand in his pocket +and snapping the fingers of the other, he walked with confident +swinging steps, throwing his head back a little, and looking as +though he were very well satisfied with himself, with his dinner, +with his digestion, and with nature. . . . + +Two little schoolboys, the children of Madame Tchizhevsky, who had +only just arrived, made their appearance in the avenue, accompanied +by their tutor, a student wearing a white tunic and very narrow +trousers. When they reached Pyotr Dmitritch, the boys and the student +stopped, and probably congratulated him on his name-day. With a +graceful swing of his shoulders, he patted the children on their +cheeks, and carelessly offered the student his hand without looking +at him. The student must have praised the weather and compared it +with the climate of Petersburg, for Pyotr Dmitritch said in a loud +voice, in a tone as though he were not speaking to a guest, but to +an usher of the court or a witness: + +"What! It's cold in Petersburg? And here, my good sir, we have a +salubrious atmosphere and the fruits of the earth in abundance. Eh? +What?" + +And thrusting one hand in his pocket and snapping the fingers of +the other, he walked on. Till he had disappeared behind the nut +bushes, Olga Mihalovna watched the back of his head in perplexity. +How had this man of thirty-four come by the dignified deportment +of a general? How had he come by that impressive, elegant manner? +Where had he got that vibration of authority in his voice? Where +had he got these "what's," "to be sure's," and "my good sir's"? + +Olga Mihalovna remembered how in the first months of her marriage +she had felt dreary at home alone and had driven into the town to +the Circuit Court, at which Pyotr Dmitritch had sometimes presided +in place of her godfather, Count Alexey Petrovitch. In the presidential +chair, wearing his uniform and a chain on his breast, he was +completely changed. Stately gestures, a voice of thunder, "what," +"to be sure," careless tones. . . . Everything, all that was ordinary +and human, all that was individual and personal to himself that +Olga Mihalovna was accustomed to seeing in him at home, vanished +in grandeur, and in the presidential chair there sat not Pyotr +Dmitritch, but another man whom every one called Mr. President. +This consciousness of power prevented him from sitting still in his +place, and he seized every opportunity to ring his bell, to glance +sternly at the public, to shout. . . . Where had he got his short-sight +and his deafness when he suddenly began to see and hear with +difficulty, and, frowning majestically, insisted on people speaking +louder and coming closer to the table? From the height of his +grandeur he could hardly distinguish faces or sounds, so that it +seemed that if Olga Mihalovna herself had gone up to him he would +have shouted even to her, "Your name?" Peasant witnesses he addressed +familiarly, he shouted at the public so that his voice could be +heard even in the street, and behaved incredibly with the lawyers. +If a lawyer had to speak to him, Pyotr Dmitritch, turning a little +away from him, looked with half-closed eyes at the ceiling, meaning +to signify thereby that the lawyer was utterly superfluous and that +he was neither recognizing him nor listening to him; if a badly-dressed +lawyer spoke, Pyotr Dmitritch pricked up his ears and looked the +man up and down with a sarcastic, annihilating stare as though to +say: "Queer sort of lawyers nowadays!" + +"What do you mean by that?" he would interrupt. + +If a would-be eloquent lawyer mispronounced a foreign word, saying, +for instance, "factitious" instead of "fictitious," Pyotr Dmitritch +brightened up at once and asked, "What? How? Factitious? What does +that mean?" and then observed impressively: "Don't make use of words +you do not understand." And the lawyer, finishing his speech, would +walk away from the table, red and perspiring, while Pyotr Dmitritch; +with a self-satisfied smile, would lean back in his chair triumphant. +In his manner with the lawyers he imitated Count Alexey Petrovitch +a little, but when the latter said, for instance, "Counsel for the +defence, you keep quiet for a little!" it sounded paternally +good-natured and natural, while the same words in Pyotr Dmitritch's +mouth were rude and artificial. + +II + +There were sounds of applause. The young man had finished playing. +Olga Mihalovna remembered her guests and hurried into the drawing-room. + +"I have so enjoyed your playing," she said, going up to the piano. +"I have so enjoyed it. You have a wonderful talent! But don't you +think our piano's out of tune?" + +At that moment the two schoolboys walked into the room, accompanied +by the student. + +"My goodness! Mitya and Kolya," Olga Mihalovna drawled joyfully, +going to meet them: "How big they have grown! One would not know +you! But where is your mamma?" + +"I congratulate you on the name-day," the student began in a +free-and-easy tone, "and I wish you all happiness. Ekaterina +Andreyevna sends her congratulations and begs you to excuse her. +She is not very well." + +"How unkind of her! I have been expecting her all day. Is it long +since you left Petersburg?" Olga Mihalovna asked the student. "What +kind of weather have you there now?" And without waiting for an +answer, she looked cordially at the schoolboys and repeated: + +"How tall they have grown! It is not long since they used to come +with their nurse, and they are at school already! The old grow older +while the young grow up. . . . Have you had dinner?" + +"Oh, please don't trouble!" said the student. + +"Why, you have not had dinner?" + +"For goodness' sake, don't trouble!" + +"But I suppose you are hungry?" Olga Mihalovna said it in a harsh, +rude voice, with impatience and vexation--it escaped her unawares, +but at once she coughed, smiled, and flushed crimson. "How tall +they have grown!" she said softly. + +"Please don't trouble!" the student said once more. + +The student begged her not to trouble; the boys said nothing; +obviously all three of them were hungry. Olga Mihalovna took them +into the dining-room and told Vassily to lay the table. + +"How unkind of your mamma!" she said as she made them sit down. +"She has quite forgotten me. Unkind, unkind, unkind . . . you must +tell her so. What are you studying?" she asked the student. + +"Medicine." + +"Well, I have a weakness for doctors, only fancy. I am very sorry +my husband is not a doctor. What courage any one must have to perform +an operation or dissect a corpse, for instance! Horrible! Aren't +you frightened? I believe I should die of terror! Of course, you +drink vodka?" + +"Please don't trouble." + +"After your journey you must have something to drink. Though I am +a woman, even I drink sometimes. And Mitya and Kolya will drink +Malaga. It's not a strong wine; you need not be afraid of it. What +fine fellows they are, really! They'll be thinking of getting married +next." + +Olga Mihalovna talked without ceasing; she knew by experience that +when she had guests to entertain it was far easier and more comfortable +to talk than to listen. When you talk there is no need to strain +your attention to think of answers to questions, and to change your +expression of face. But unawares she asked the student a serious +question; the student began a lengthy speech and she was forced to +listen. The student knew that she had once been at the University, +and so tried to seem a serious person as he talked to her. + +"What subject are you studying?" she asked, forgetting that she had +already put that question to him. + +"Medicine." + +Olga Mihalovna now remembered that she had been away from the ladies +for a long while. + +"Yes? Then I suppose you are going to be a doctor?" she said, getting +up. "That's splendid. I am sorry I did not go in for medicine myself. +So you will finish your dinner here, gentlemen, and then come into +the garden. I will introduce you to the young ladies." + +She went out and glanced at her watch: it was five minutes to six. +And she wondered that the time had gone so slowly, and thought with +horror that there were six more hours before midnight, when the +party would break up. How could she get through those six hours? +What phrases could she utter? How should she behave to her husband? + +There was not a soul in the drawing-room or on the verandah. All +the guests were sauntering about the garden. + +"I shall have to suggest a walk in the birchwood before tea, or +else a row in the boats," thought Olga Mihalovna, hurrying to the +croquet ground, from which came the sounds of voices and laughter. + +"And sit the old people down to _vint_. . . ." She met Grigory the +footman coming from the croquet ground with empty bottles. + +"Where are the ladies?" she asked. + +"Among the raspberry-bushes. The master's there, too." + +"Oh, good heavens!" some one on the croquet lawn shouted with +exasperation. "I have told you a thousand times over! To know the +Bulgarians you must see them! You can't judge from the papers!" + +Either because of the outburst or for some other reason, Olga +Mihalovna was suddenly aware of a terrible weakness all over, +especially in her legs and in her shoulders. She felt she could not +bear to speak, to listen, or to move. + +"Grigory," she said faintly and with an effort, "when you have to +serve tea or anything, please don't appeal to me, don't ask me +anything, don't speak of anything. . . . Do it all yourself, and +. . . and don't make a noise with your feet, I entreat you. . . . I +can't, because . . ." + +Without finishing, she walked on towards the croquet lawn, but on +the way she thought of the ladies, and turned towards the +raspberry-bushes. The sky, the air, and the trees looked gloomy +again and threatened rain; it was hot and stifling. An immense flock +of crows, foreseeing a storm, flew cawing over the garden. The paths +were more overgrown, darker, and narrower as they got nearer the +kitchen garden. In one of them, buried in a thick tangle of wild +pear, crab-apple, sorrel, young oaks, and hopbine, clouds of tiny +black flies swarmed round Olga Mihalovna. She covered her face with +her hands and began forcing herself to think of the little creature +. . . . There floated through her imagination the figures of Grigory, +Mitya, Kolya, the faces of the peasants who had come in the morning +to present their congratulations. + +She heard footsteps, and she opened her eyes. Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch +was coming rapidly towards her. + +"It's you, dear? I am very glad . . ." he began, breathless. "A +couple of words. . . ." He mopped with his handkerchief his red +shaven chin, then suddenly stepped back a pace, flung up his hands +and opened his eyes wide. "My dear girl, how long is this going +on?" he said rapidly, spluttering. "I ask you: is there no limit +to it? I say nothing of the demoralizing effect of his martinet +views on all around him, of the way he insults all that is sacred +and best in me and in every honest thinking man--I will say nothing +about that, but he might at least behave decently! Why, he shouts, +he bellows, gives himself airs, poses as a sort of Bonaparte, does +not let one say a word. . . . I don't know what the devil's the +matter with him! These lordly gestures, this condescending tone; +and laughing like a general! Who is he, allow me to ask you? I ask +you, who is he? The husband of his wife, with a few paltry acres +and the rank of a titular who has had the luck to marry an heiress! +An upstart and a _junker_, like so many others! A type out of +Shtchedrin! Upon my word, it's either that he's suffering from +megalomania, or that old rat in his dotage, Count Alexey Petrovitch, +is right when he says that children and young people are a long +time growing up nowadays, and go on playing they are cabmen and +generals till they are forty!" + +"That's true, that's true," Olga Mihalovna assented. "Let me pass." + +"Now just consider: what is it leading to?" her uncle went on, +barring her way. "How will this playing at being a general and a +Conservative end? Already he has got into trouble! Yes, to stand +his trial! I am very glad of it! That's what his noise and shouting +has brought him to--to stand in the prisoner's dock. And it's not +as though it were the Circuit Court or something: it's the Central +Court! Nothing worse could be imagined, I think! And then he has +quarrelled with every one! He is celebrating his name-day, and look, +Vostryakov's not here, nor Yahontov, nor Vladimirov, nor Shevud, +nor the Count. . . . There is no one, I imagine, more Conservative +than Count Alexey Petrovitch, yet even he has not come. And he never +will come again. He won't come, you will see!" + +"My God! but what has it to do with me?" asked Olga Mihalovna. + +"What has it to do with you? Why, you are his wife! You are clever, +you have had a university education, and it was in your power to +make him an honest worker!" + +"At the lectures I went to they did not teach us how to influence +tiresome people. It seems as though I should have to apologize to +all of you for having been at the University," said Olga Mihalovna +sharply. "Listen, uncle. If people played the same scales over and +over again the whole day long in your hearing, you wouldn't be able +to sit still and listen, but would run away. I hear the same thing +over again for days together all the year round. You must have pity +on me at last." + +Her uncle pulled a very long face, then looked at her searchingly +and twisted his lips into a mocking smile. + +"So that's how it is," he piped in a voice like an old woman's. "I +beg your pardon!" he said, and made a ceremonious bow. "If you have +fallen under his influence yourself, and have abandoned your +convictions, you should have said so before. I beg your pardon!" + +"Yes, I have abandoned my convictions," she cried. "There; make the +most of it!" + +"I beg your pardon!" + +Her uncle for the last time made her a ceremonious bow, a little +on one side, and, shrinking into himself, made a scrape with his +foot and walked back. + +"Idiot!" thought Olga Mihalovna. "I hope he will go home." + +She found the ladies and the young people among the raspberries in +the kitchen garden. Some were eating raspberries; others, tired of +eating raspberries, were strolling about the strawberry beds or +foraging among the sugar-peas. A little on one side of the raspberry +bed, near a branching appletree propped up by posts which had been +pulled out of an old fence, Pyotr Dmitritch was mowing the grass. +His hair was falling over his forehead, his cravat was untied. His +watch-chain was hanging loose. Every step and every swing of the +scythe showed skill and the possession of immense physical strength. +Near him were standing Lubotchka and the daughters of a neighbour, +Colonel Bukryeev--two anaemic and unhealthily stout fair girls, +Natalya and Valentina, or, as they were always called, Nata and +Vata, both wearing white frocks and strikingly like each other. +Pyotr Dmitritch was teaching them to mow. + +"It's very simple," he said. "You have only to know how to hold the +scythe and not to get too hot over it--that is, not to use more +force than is necessary! Like this. . . . Wouldn't you like to try?" +he said, offering the scythe to Lubotchka. "Come!" + +Lubotchka took the scythe clumsily, blushed crimson, and laughed. + +"Don't be afraid, Lubov Alexandrovna!" cried Olga Mihalovna, loud +enough for all the ladies to hear that she was with them. "Don't +be afraid! You must learn! If you marry a Tolstoyan he will make +you mow." + +Lubotchka raised the scythe, but began laughing again, and, helpless +with laughter, let go of it at once. She was ashamed and pleased +at being talked to as though grown up. Nata, with a cold, serious +face, with no trace of smiling or shyness, took the scythe, swung +it and caught it in the grass; Vata, also without a smile, as cold +and serious as her sister, took the scythe, and silently thrust it +into the earth. Having done this, the two sisters linked arms and +walked in silence to the raspberries. + +Pyotr Dmitritch laughed and played about like a boy, and this +childish, frolicsome mood in which he became exceedingly good-natured +suited him far better than any other. Olga Mihalovna loved him when +he was like that. But his boyishness did not usually last long. It +did not this time; after playing with the scythe, he for some reason +thought it necessary to take a serious tone about it. + +"When I am mowing, I feel, do you know, healthier and more normal," +he said. "If I were forced to confine myself to an intellectual +life I believe I should go out of my mind. I feel that I was not +born to be a man of culture! I ought to mow, plough, sow, drive out +the horses." + +And Pyotr Dmitritch began a conversation with the ladies about the +advantages of physical labour, about culture, and then about the +pernicious effects of money, of property. Listening to her husband, +Olga Mihalovna, for some reason, thought of her dowry. + +"And the time will come, I suppose," she thought, "when he will not +forgive me for being richer than he. He is proud and vain. Maybe +he will hate me because he owes so much to me." + +She stopped near Colonel Bukryeev, who was eating raspberries and +also taking part in the conversation. + +"Come," he said, making room for Olga Mihalovna and Pyotr Dmitritch. +"The ripest are here. . . . And so, according to Proudhon," he went +on, raising his voice, "property is robbery. But I must confess I +don't believe in Proudhon, and don't consider him a philosopher. +The French are not authorities, to my thinking--God bless them!" + +"Well, as for Proudhons and Buckles and the rest of them, I am weak +in that department," said Pyotr Dmitritch. "For philosophy you must +apply to my wife. She has been at University lectures and knows all +your Schopenhauers and Proudhons by heart. . . ." + +Olga Mihalovna felt bored again. She walked again along a little +path by apple and pear trees, and looked again as though she was +on some very important errand. She reached the gardener's cottage. +In the doorway the gardener's wife, Varvara, was sitting together +with her four little children with big shaven heads. Varvara, too, +was with child and expecting to be confined on Elijah's Day. After +greeting her, Olga Mihalovna looked at her and the children in +silence and asked: + +"Well, how do you feel?" + +"Oh, all right. . . ." + +A silence followed. The two women seemed to understand each other +without words. + +"It's dreadful having one's first baby," said Olga Mihalovna after +a moment's thought. "I keep feeling as though I shall not get through +it, as though I shall die." + +"I fancied that, too, but here I am alive. One has all sorts of +fancies." + +Varvara, who was just going to have her fifth, looked down a little +on her mistress from the height of her experience and spoke in a +rather didactic tone, and Olga Mihalovna could not help feeling her +authority; she would have liked to have talked of her fears, of the +child, of her sensations, but she was afraid it might strike Varvara +as naive and trivial. And she waited in silence for Varvara to say +something herself. + +"Olya, we are going indoors," Pyotr Dmitritch called from the +raspberries. + +Olga Mihalovna liked being silent, waiting and watching Varvara. +She would have been ready to stay like that till night without +speaking or having any duty to perform. But she had to go. She had +hardly left the cottage when Lubotchka, Nata, and Vata came running +to meet her. The sisters stopped short abruptly a couple of yards +away; Lubotchka ran right up to her and flung herself on her neck. + +"You dear, darling, precious," she said, kissing her face and her +neck. "Let us go and have tea on the island!" + +"On the island, on the island!" said the precisely similar Nata and +Vata, both at once, without a smile. + +"But it's going to rain, my dears." + +"It's not, it's not," cried Lubotchka with a woebegone face. "They've +all agreed to go. Dear! darling!" + +"They are all getting ready to have tea on the island," said Pyotr +Dmitritch, coming up. "See to arranging things. . . . We will all +go in the boats, and the samovars and all the rest of it must be +sent in the carriage with the servants." + +He walked beside his wife and gave her his arm. Olga Mihalovna had +a desire to say something disagreeable to her husband, something +biting, even about her dowry perhaps--the crueller the better, +she felt. She thought a little, and said: + +"Why is it Count Alexey Petrovitch hasn't come? What a pity!" + +"I am very glad he hasn't come," said Pyotr Dmitritch, lying. "I'm +sick to death of that old lunatic." + +"But yet before dinner you were expecting him so eagerly!" + +III + +Half an hour later all the guests were crowding on the bank near +the pile to which the boats were fastened. They were all talking +and laughing, and were in such excitement and commotion that they +could hardly get into the boats. Three boats were crammed with +passengers, while two stood empty. The keys for unfastening these +two boats had been somehow mislaid, and messengers were continually +running from the river to the house to look for them. Some said +Grigory had the keys, others that the bailiff had them, while others +suggested sending for a blacksmith and breaking the padlocks. And +all talked at once, interrupting and shouting one another down. +Pyotr Dmitritch paced impatiently to and fro on the bank, shouting: + +"What the devil's the meaning of it! The keys ought always to be +lying in the hall window! Who has dared to take them away? The +bailiff can get a boat of his own if he wants one!" + +At last the keys were found. Then it appeared that two oars were +missing. Again there was a great hullabaloo. Pyotr Dmitritch, who +was weary of pacing about the bank, jumped into a long, narrow boat +hollowed out of the trunk of a poplar, and, lurching from side to +side and almost falling into the water, pushed off from the bank. +The other boats followed him one after another, amid loud laughter +and the shrieks of the young ladies. + +The white cloudy sky, the trees on the riverside, the boats with +the people in them, and the oars, were reflected in the water as +in a mirror; under the boats, far away below in the bottomless +depths, was a second sky with the birds flying across it. The bank +on which the house and gardens stood was high, steep, and covered +with trees; on the other, which was sloping, stretched broad green +water-meadows with sheets of water glistening in them. The boats +had floated a hundred yards when, behind the mournfully drooping +willows on the sloping banks, huts and a herd of cows came into +sight; they began to hear songs, drunken shouts, and the strains +of a concertina. + +Here and there on the river fishing-boats were scattered about, +setting their nets for the night. In one of these boats was the +festive party, playing on home-made violins and violoncellos. + +Olga Mihalovna was sitting at the rudder; she was smiling affably +and talking a great deal to entertain her visitors, while she glanced +stealthily at her husband. He was ahead of them all, standing up +punting with one oar. The light sharp-nosed canoe, which all the +guests called the "death-trap"--while Pyotr Dmitritch, for some +reason, called it _Penderaklia_--flew along quickly; it had a +brisk, crafty expression, as though it hated its heavy occupant and +was looking out for a favourable moment to glide away from under +his feet. Olga Mihalovna kept looking at her husband, and she loathed +his good looks which attracted every one, the back of his head, his +attitude, his familiar manner with women; she hated all the women +sitting in the boat with her, was jealous, and at the same time was +trembling every minute in terror that the frail craft would upset +and cause an accident. + +"Take care, Pyotr!" she cried, while her heart fluttered with terror. +"Sit down! We believe in your courage without all that!" + +She was worried, too, by the people who were in the boat with her. +They were all ordinary good sort of people like thousands of others, +but now each one of them struck her as exceptional and evil. In +each one of them she saw nothing but falsity. "That young man," she +thought, "rowing, in gold-rimmed spectacles, with chestnut hair and +a nice-looking beard: he is a mamma's darling, rich, and well-fed, +and always fortunate, and every one considers him an honourable, +free-thinking, advanced man. It's not a year since he left the +University and came to live in the district, but he already talks +of himself as 'we active members of the Zemstvo.' But in another +year he will be bored like so many others and go off to Petersburg, +and to justify running away, will tell every one that the Zemstvos +are good-for-nothing, and that he has been deceived in them. While +from the other boat his young wife keeps her eyes fixed on him, and +believes that he is 'an active member of the Zemstvo,' just as in +a year she will believe that the Zemstvo is good-for-nothing. And +that stout, carefully shaven gentleman in the straw hat with the +broad ribbon, with an expensive cigar in his mouth: he is fond of +saying, 'It is time to put away dreams and set to work!' He has +Yorkshire pigs, Butler's hives, rape-seed, pine-apples, a dairy, a +cheese factory, Italian bookkeeping by double entry; but every +summer he sells his timber and mortgages part of his land to spend +the autumn with his mistress in the Crimea. And there's Uncle Nikolay +Nikolaitch, who has quarrelled with Pyotr Dmitritch, and yet for +some reason does not go home." + +Olga Mihalovna looked at the other boats, and there, too, she saw +only uninteresting, queer creatures, affected or stupid people. She +thought of all the people she knew in the district, and could not +remember one person of whom one could say or think anything good. +They all seemed to her mediocre, insipid, unintelligent, narrow, +false, heartless; they all said what they did not think, and did +what they did not want to. Dreariness and despair were stifling +her; she longed to leave off smiling, to leap up and cry out, "I +am sick of you," and then jump out and swim to the bank. + +"I say, let's take Pyotr Dmitritch in tow!" some one shouted. + +"In tow, in tow!" the others chimed in. "Olga Mihalovna, take your +husband in tow." + +To take him in tow, Olga Mihalovna, who was steering, had to seize +the right moment and to catch bold of his boat by the chain at the +beak. When she bent over to the chain Pyotr Dmitritch frowned and +looked at her in alarm. + +"I hope you won't catch cold," he said. + +"If you are uneasy about me and the child, why do you torment me?" +thought Olga Mihalovna. + +Pyotr Dmitritch acknowledged himself vanquished, and, not caring +to be towed, jumped from the _Penderaklia_ into the boat which was +overful already, and jumped so carelessly that the boat lurched +violently, and every one cried out in terror. + +"He did that to please the ladies," thought Olga Mihalovna; "he +knows it's charming." Her hands and feet began trembling, as she +supposed, from boredom, vexation from the strain of smiling and the +discomfort she felt all over her body. And to conceal this trembling +from her guests, she tried to talk more loudly, to laugh, to move. + +"If I suddenly begin to cry," she thought, "I shall say I have +toothache. . . ." + +But at last the boats reached the "Island of Good Hope," as they +called the peninsula formed by a bend in the river at an acute +angle, covered with a copse of old birch-trees, oaks, willows, and +poplars. The tables were already laid under the trees; the samovars +were smoking, and Vassily and Grigory, in their swallow-tails and +white knitted gloves, were already busy with the tea-things. On the +other bank, opposite the "Island of Good Hope," there stood the +carriages which had come with the provisions. The baskets and parcels +of provisions were carried across to the island in a little boat +like the _Penderaklia_. The footmen, the coachmen, and even the +peasant who was sitting in the boat, had the solemn expression +befitting a name-day such as one only sees in children and servants. + +While Olga Mihalovna was making the tea and pouring out the first +glasses, the visitors were busy with the liqueurs and sweet things. +Then there was the general commotion usual at picnics over drinking +tea, very wearisome and exhausting for the hostess. Grigory and +Vassily had hardly had time to take the glasses round before hands +were being stretched out to Olga Mihalovna with empty glasses. One +asked for no sugar, another wanted it stronger, another weak, a +fourth declined another glass. And all this Olga Mihalovna had to +remember, and then to call, "Ivan Petrovitch, is it without sugar +for you?" or, "Gentlemen, which of you wanted it weak?" But the +guest who had asked for weak tea, or no sugar, had by now forgotten +it, and, absorbed in agreeable conversation, took the first glass +that came. Depressed-looking figures wandered like shadows at a +little distance from the table, pretending to look for mushrooms +in the grass, or reading the labels on the boxes--these were those +for whom there were not glasses enough. "Have you had tea?" Olga +Mihalovna kept asking, and the guest so addressed begged her not +to trouble, and said, "I will wait," though it would have suited +her better for the visitors not to wait but to make haste. + +Some, absorbed in conversation, drank their tea slowly, keeping +their glasses for half an hour; others, especially some who had +drunk a good deal at dinner, would not leave the table, and kept +on drinking glass after glass, so that Olga Mihalovna scarcely had +time to fill them. One jocular young man sipped his tea through a +lump of sugar, and kept saying, "Sinful man that I am, I love to +indulge myself with the Chinese herb." He kept asking with a heavy +sigh: "Another tiny dish of tea more, if you please." He drank a +great deal, nibbled his sugar, and thought it all very amusing and +original, and imagined that he was doing a clever imitation of a +Russian merchant. None of them understood that these trifles were +agonizing to their hostess, and, indeed, it was hard to understand +it, as Olga Mihalovna went on all the time smiling affably and +talking nonsense. + +But she felt ill. . . . She was irritated by the crowd of people, +the laughter, the questions, the jocular young man, the footmen +harassed and run off their legs, the children who hung round the +table; she was irritated at Vata's being like Nata, at Kolya's being +like Mitya, so that one could not tell which of them had had tea +and which of them had not. She felt that her smile of forced +affability was passing into an expression of anger, and she felt +every minute as though she would burst into tears. + +"Rain, my friends," cried some one. + +Every one looked at the sky. + +"Yes, it really is rain . . ." Pyotr Dmitritch assented, and wiped +his cheek. + +Only a few drops were falling from the sky--the real rain had not +begun yet; but the company abandoned their tea and made haste to +get off. At first they all wanted to drive home in the carriages, +but changed their minds and made for the boats. On the pretext that +she had to hasten home to give directions about the supper, Olga +Mihalovna asked to be excused for leaving the others, and went home +in the carriage. + +When she got into the carriage, she first of all let her face rest +from smiling. With an angry face she drove through the village, and +with an angry face acknowledged the bows of the peasants she met. +When she got home, she went to the bedroom by the back way and lay +down on her husband's bed. + +"Merciful God!" she whispered. "What is all this hard labour for? +Why do all these people hustle each other here and pretend that +they are enjoying themselves? Why do I smile and lie? I don't +understand it." + +She heard steps and voices. The visitors had come back. + +"Let them come," thought Olga Mihalovna; "I shall lie a little +longer." + +But a maid-servant came and said: + +"Marya Grigoryevna is going, madam." + +Olga Mihalovna jumped up, tidied her hair and hurried out of the +room. + +"Marya Grigoryevna, what is the meaning of this?" she began in an +injured voice, going to meet Marya Grigoryevna. "Why are you in +such a hurry?" + +"I can't help it, darling! I've stayed too long as it is; my children +are expecting me home." + +"It's too bad of you! Why didn't you bring your children with you?" + +"If you will let me, dear, I will bring them on some ordinary day, +but to-day . . ." + +"Oh, please do," Olga Mihalovna interrupted; "I shall be delighted! +Your children are so sweet! Kiss them all for me. . . . But, really, +I am offended with you! I don't understand why you are in such a +hurry!" + +"I really must, I really must. . . . Good-bye, dear. Take care of +yourself. In your condition, you know . . ." + +And the ladies kissed each other. After seeing the departing guest +to her carriage, Olga Mihalovna went in to the ladies in the +drawing-room. There the lamps were already lighted and the gentlemen +were sitting down to cards. + +IV + +The party broke up after supper about a quarter past twelve. Seeing +her visitors off, Olga Mihalovna stood at the door and said: + +"You really ought to take a shawl! It's turning a little chilly. +Please God, you don't catch cold!" + +"Don't trouble, Olga Mihalovna," the ladies answered as they got +into the carriage. "Well, good-bye. Mind now, we are expecting you; +don't play us false!" + +"Wo-o-o!" the coachman checked the horses. + +"Ready, Denis! Good-bye, Olga Mihalovna!" + +"Kiss the children for me!" + +The carriage started and immediately disappeared into the darkness. +In the red circle of light cast by the lamp in the road, a fresh +pair or trio of impatient horses, and the silhouette of a coachman +with his hands held out stiffly before him, would come into view. +Again there began kisses, reproaches, and entreaties to come again +or to take a shawl. Pyotr Dmitritch kept running out and helping +the ladies into their carriages. + +"You go now by Efremovshtchina," he directed the coachman; "it's +nearer through Mankino, but the road is worse that way. You might +have an upset. . . . Good-bye, my charmer. _Mille_ compliments to +your artist!" + +"Good-bye, Olga Mihalovna, darling! Go indoors, or you will catch +cold! It's damp!" + +"Wo-o-o! you rascal!" + +"What horses have you got here?" Pyotr Dmitritch asked. + +"They were bought from Haidorov, in Lent," answered the coachman. + +"Capital horses. . . ." + +And Pyotr Dmitritch patted the trace horse on the haunch. + +"Well, you can start! God give you good luck!" + +The last visitor was gone at last; the red circle on the road +quivered, moved aside, contracted and went out, as Vassily carried +away the lamp from the entrance. On previous occasions when they +had seen off their visitors, Pyotr Dmitritch and Olga Mihalovna had +begun dancing about the drawing-room, facing each other, clapping +their hands and singing: "They've gone! They've gone!" But now Olga +Mihalovna was not equal to that. She went to her bedroom, undressed, +and got into bed. + +She fancied she would fall asleep at once and sleep soundly. Her +legs and her shoulders ached painfully, her head was heavy from the +strain of talking, and she was conscious, as before, of discomfort +all over her body. Covering her head over, she lay still for three +or four minutes, then peeped out from under the bed-clothes at the +lamp before the ikon, listened to the silence, and smiled. + +"It's nice, it's nice," she whispered, curling up her legs, which +felt as if they had grown longer from so much walking. "Sleep, sleep +. . . ." + +Her legs would not get into a comfortable position; she felt uneasy +all over, and she turned on the other side. A big fly blew buzzing +about the bedroom and thumped against the ceiling. She could hear, +too, Grigory and Vassily stepping cautiously about the drawing-room, +putting the chairs back in their places; it seemed to Olga Mihalovna +that she could not go to sleep, nor be comfortable till those sounds +were hushed. And again she turned over on the other side impatiently. + +She heard her husband's voice in the drawing-room. Some one must +be staying the night, as Pyotr Dmitritch was addressing some one +and speaking loudly: + +"I don't say that Count Alexey Petrovitch is an impostor. But he +can't help seeming to be one, because all of you gentlemen attempt +to see in him something different from what he really is. His +craziness is looked upon as originality, his familiar manners as +good-nature, and his complete absence of opinions as Conservatism. +Even granted that he is a Conservative of the stamp of '84, what +after all is Conservatism?" + +Pyotr Dmitritch, angry with Count Alexey Petrovitch, his visitors, +and himself, was relieving his heart. He abused both the Count and +his visitors, and in his vexation with himself was ready to speak +out and to hold forth upon anything. After seeing his guest to his +room, he walked up and down the drawing-room, walked through the +dining-room, down the corridor, then into his study, then again +went into the drawing-room, and came into the bedroom. Olga Mihalovna +was lying on her back, with the bed-clothes only to her waist (by +now she felt hot), and with an angry face, watched the fly that was +thumping against the ceiling. + +"Is some one staying the night?" she asked. + +"Yegorov." + +Pyotr Dmitritch undressed and got into his bed. + +Without speaking, he lighted a cigarette, and he, too, fell to +watching the fly. There was an uneasy and forbidding look in his +eyes. Olga Mihalovna looked at his handsome profile for five minutes +in silence. It seemed to her for some reason that if her husband +were suddenly to turn facing her, and to say, "Olga, I am unhappy," +she would cry or laugh, and she would be at ease. She fancied that +her legs were aching and her body was uncomfortable all over because +of the strain on her feelings. + +"Pyotr, what are you thinking of?" she said. + +"Oh, nothing . . ." her husband answered. + +"You have taken to having secrets from me of late: that's not right." + +"Why is it not right?" answered Pyotr Dmitritch drily and not at +once. "We all have our personal life, every one of us, and we are +bound to have our secrets." + +"Personal life, our secrets . . . that's all words! Understand you +are wounding me!" said Olga Mihalovna, sitting up in bed. "If you +have a load on your heart, why do you hide it from me? And why do +you find it more suitable to open your heart to women who are nothing +to you, instead of to your wife? I overheard your outpourings to +Lubotchka by the bee-house to-day." + +"Well, I congratulate you. I am glad you did overhear it." + +This meant "Leave me alone and let me think." Olga Mihalovna was +indignant. Vexation, hatred, and wrath, which had been accumulating +within her during the whole day, suddenly boiled over; she wanted +at once to speak out, to hurt her husband without putting it off +till to-morrow, to wound him, to punish him. . . . Making an effort +to control herself and not to scream, she said: + +"Let me tell you, then, that it's all loathsome, loathsome, loathsome! +I've been hating you all day; you see what you've done." + +Pyotr Dmitritch, too, got up and sat on the bed. + +"It's loathsome, loathsome, loathsome," Olga Mihalovna went on, +beginning to tremble all over. "There's no need to congratulate me; +you had better congratulate yourself! It's a shame, a disgrace. You +have wrapped yourself in lies till you are ashamed to be alone in +the room with your wife! You are a deceitful man! I see through you +and understand every step you take!" + +"Olya, I wish you would please warn me when you are out of humour. +Then I will sleep in the study." + +Saying this, Pyotr Dmitritch picked up his pillow and walked out +of the bedroom. Olga Mihalovna had not foreseen this. For some +minutes she remained silent with her mouth open, trembling all over +and looking at the door by which her husband had gone out, and +trying to understand what it meant. Was this one of the devices to +which deceitful people have recourse when they are in the wrong, +or was it a deliberate insult aimed at her pride? How was she to +take it? Olga Mihalovna remembered her cousin, a lively young +officer, who often used to tell her, laughing, that when "his spouse +nagged at him" at night, he usually picked up his pillow and went +whistling to spend the night in his study, leaving his wife in a +foolish and ridiculous position. This officer was married to a rich, +capricious, and foolish woman whom he did not respect but simply +put up with. + +Olga Mihalovna jumped out of bed. To her mind there was only one +thing left for her to do now; to dress with all possible haste and +to leave the house forever. The house was her own, but so much the +worse for Pyotr Dmitritch. Without pausing to consider whether this +was necessary or not, she went quickly to the study to inform her +husband of her intention ("Feminine logic!" flashed through her +mind), and to say something wounding and sarcastic at parting. . . . + +Pyotr Dmitritch was lying on the sofa and pretending to read a +newspaper. There was a candle burning on a chair near him. His face +could not be seen behind the newspaper. + +"Be so kind as to tell me what this means? I am asking you." + +"Be so kind . . ." Pyotr Dmitritch mimicked her, not showing his +face. "It's sickening, Olga! Upon my honour, I am exhausted and not +up to it. . . . Let us do our quarrelling to-morrow." + +"No, I understand you perfectly!" Olga Mihalovna went on. "You hate +me! Yes, yes! You hate me because I am richer than you! You will +never forgive me for that, and will always be lying to me!" ("Feminine +logic!" flashed through her mind again.) "You are laughing at me +now. . . . I am convinced, in fact, that you only married me in +order to have property qualifications and those wretched horses. . . . +Oh, I am miserable!" + +Pyotr Dmitritch dropped the newspaper and got up. The unexpected +insult overwhelmed him. With a childishly helpless smile he looked +desperately at his wife, and holding out his hands to her as though +to ward off blows, he said imploringly: + +"Olya!" + +And expecting her to say something else awful, he leaned back in +his chair, and his huge figure seemed as helplessly childish as his +smile. + +"Olya, how could you say it?" he whispered. + +Olga Mihalovna came to herself. She was suddenly aware of her +passionate love for this man, remembered that he was her husband, +Pyotr Dmitritch, without whom she could not live for a day, and who +loved her passionately, too. She burst into loud sobs that sounded +strange and unlike her, and ran back to her bedroom. + +She fell on the bed, and short hysterical sobs, choking her and +making her arms and legs twitch, filled the bedroom. Remembering +there was a visitor sleeping three or four rooms away, she buried +her head under the pillow to stifle her sobs, but the pillow rolled +on to the floor, and she almost fell on the floor herself when she +stooped to pick it up. She pulled the quilt up to her face, but her +hands would not obey her, but tore convulsively at everything she +clutched. + +She thought that everything was lost, that the falsehood she had +told to wound her husband had shattered her life into fragments. +Her husband would not forgive her. The insult she had hurled at him +was not one that could be effaced by any caresses, by any vows. . . . +How could she convince her husband that she did not believe +what she had said? + +"It's all over, it's all over!" she cried, not noticing that the +pillow had slipped on to the floor again. "For God's sake, for God's +sake!" + +Probably roused by her cries, the guest and the servants were now +awake; next day all the neighbourhood would know that she had been +in hysterics and would blame Pyotr Dmitritch. She made an effort +to restrain herself, but her sobs grew louder and louder every +minute. + +"For God's sake," she cried in a voice not like her own, and not +knowing why she cried it. "For God's sake!" + +She felt as though the bed were heaving under her and her feet were +entangled in the bed-clothes. Pyotr Dmitritch, in his dressing-gown, +with a candle in his hand, came into the bedroom. + +"Olya, hush!" he said. + +She raised herself, and kneeling up in bed, screwing up her eyes +at the light, articulated through her sobs: + +"Understand . . . understand! . . . ." + +She wanted to tell him that she was tired to death by the party, +by his falsity, by her own falsity, that it had all worked together, +but she could only articulate: + +"Understand . . . understand!" + +"Come, drink!" he said, handing her some water. + +She took the glass obediently and began drinking, but the water +splashed over and was spilt on her arms, her throat and knees. + +"I must look horribly unseemly," she thought. + +Pyotr Dmitritch put her back in bed without a word, and covered her +with the quilt, then he took the candle and went out. + +"For God's sake!" Olga Mihalovna cried again. "Pyotr, understand, +understand!" + +Suddenly something gripped her in the lower part of her body and +back with such violence that her wailing was cut short, and she bit +the pillow from the pain. But the pain let her go again at once, +and she began sobbing again. + +The maid came in, and arranging the quilt over her, asked in alarm: + +"Mistress, darling, what is the matter?" + +"Go out of the room," said Pyotr Dmitritch sternly, going up to the +bed. + +"Understand . . . understand! . . ." Olga Mihalovna began. + +"Olya, I entreat you, calm yourself," he said. "I did not mean to +hurt you. I would not have gone out of the room if I had known it +would have hurt you so much; I simply felt depressed. I tell you, +on my honour . . ." + +"Understand! . . . You were lying, I was lying. . . ." + +"I understand. . . . Come, come, that's enough! I understand," said +Pyotr Dmitritch tenderly, sitting down on her bed. "You said that +in anger; I quite understand. I swear to God I love you beyond +anything on earth, and when I married you I never once thought of +your being rich. I loved you immensely, and that's all . . . I +assure you. I have never been in want of money or felt the value +of it, and so I cannot feel the difference between your fortune and +mine. It always seemed to me we were equally well off. And that I +have been deceitful in little things, that . . . of course, is true. +My life has hitherto been arranged in such a frivolous way that it +has somehow been impossible to get on without paltry lying. It +weighs on me, too, now. . . . Let us leave off talking about it, +for goodness' sake!" + +Olga Mihalovna again felt in acute pain, and clutched her husband +by the sleeve. + +"I am in pain, in pain, in pain . . ." she said rapidly. "Oh, what +pain!" + +"Damnation take those visitors!" muttered Pyotr Dmitritch, getting +up. "You ought not to have gone to the island to-day!" he cried. +"What an idiot I was not to prevent you! Oh, my God!" + +He scratched his head in vexation, and, with a wave of his hand, +walked out of the room. + +Then he came into the room several times, sat down on the bed beside +her, and talked a great deal, sometimes tenderly, sometimes angrily, +but she hardly heard him. Her sobs were continually interrupted by +fearful attacks of pain, and each time the pain was more acute and +prolonged. At first she held her breath and bit the pillow during +the pain, but then she began screaming on an unseemly piercing note. +Once seeing her husband near her, she remembered that she had +insulted him, and without pausing to think whether it were really +Pyotr Dmitritch or whether she were in delirium, clutched his hand +in both hers and began kissing it. + +"You were lying, I was lying . . ." she began justifying herself. +"Understand, understand. . . . They have exhausted me, driven me +out of all patience." + +"Olya, we are not alone," said Pyotr Dmitritch. + +Olga Mihalovna raised her head and saw Varvara, who was kneeling +by the chest of drawers and pulling out the bottom drawer. The top +drawers were already open. Then Varvara got up, red from the strained +position, and with a cold, solemn face began trying to unlock a +box. + +"Marya, I can't unlock it!" she said in a whisper. "You unlock it, +won't you?" + +Marya, the maid, was digging a candle end out of the candlestick +with a pair of scissors, so as to put in a new candle; she went up +to Varvara and helped her to unlock the box. + +"There should be nothing locked . . ." whispered Varvara. "Unlock +this basket, too, my good girl. Master," she said, "you should send +to Father Mihail to unlock the holy gates! You must!" + +"Do what you like," said Pyotr Dmitritch, breathing hard, "only, +for God's sake, make haste and fetch the doctor or the midwife! Has +Vassily gone? Send some one else. Send your husband!" + +"It's the birth," Olga Mihalovna thought. "Varvara," she moaned, +"but he won't be born alive!" + +"It's all right, it's all right, mistress," whispered Varvara. +"Please God, he will be alive! he will be alive!" + +When Olga Mihalovna came to herself again after a pain she was no +longer sobbing nor tossing from side to side, but moaning. She could +not refrain from moaning even in the intervals between the pains. +The candles were still burning, but the morning light was coming +through the blinds. It was probably about five o'clock in the +morning. At the round table there was sitting some unknown woman +with a very discreet air, wearing a white apron. From her whole +appearance it was evident she had been sitting there a long time. +Olga Mihalovna guessed that she was the midwife. + +"Will it soon be over?" she asked, and in her voice she heard a +peculiar and unfamiliar note which had never been there before. "I +must be dying in childbirth," she thought. + +Pyotr Dmitritch came cautiously into the bedroom, dressed for the +day, and stood at the window with his back to his wife. He lifted +the blind and looked out of window. + +"What rain!" he said. + +"What time is it?" asked Olga Mihalovna, in order to hear the +unfamiliar note in her voice again. + +"A quarter to six," answered the midwife. + +"And what if I really am dying?" thought Olga Mihalovna, looking +at her husband's head and the window-panes on which the rain was +beating. "How will he live without me? With whom will he have tea +and dinner, talk in the evenings, sleep?" + +And he seemed to her like a forlorn child; she felt sorry for him +and wanted to say something nice, caressing and consolatory. She +remembered how in the spring he had meant to buy himself some +harriers, and she, thinking it a cruel and dangerous sport, had +prevented him from doing it. + +"Pyotr, buy yourself harriers," she moaned. + +He dropped the blind and went up to the bed, and would have said +something; but at that moment the pain came back, and Olga Mihalovna +uttered an unseemly, piercing scream. + +The pain and the constant screaming and moaning stupefied her. She +heard, saw, and sometimes spoke, but hardly understood anything, +and was only conscious that she was in pain or was just going to +be in pain. It seemed to her that the nameday party had been long, +long ago--not yesterday, but a year ago perhaps; and that her new +life of agony had lasted longer than her childhood, her school-days, +her time at the University, and her marriage, and would go on for +a long, long time, endlessly. She saw them bring tea to the midwife, +and summon her at midday to lunch and afterwards to dinner; she saw +Pyotr Dmitritch grow used to coming in, standing for long intervals +by the window, and going out again; saw strange men, the maid, +Varvara, come in as though they were at home. . . . Varvara said +nothing but, "He will, he will," and was angry when any one closed +the drawers and the chest. Olga Mihalovna saw the light change in +the room and in the windows: at one time it was twilight, then thick +like fog, then bright daylight as it had been at dinner-time the +day before, then again twilight . . . and each of these changes +lasted as long as her childhood, her school-days, her life at the +University. . . . + +In the evening two doctors--one bony, bald, with a big red beard; +the other with a swarthy Jewish face and cheap spectacles--performed +some sort of operation on Olga Mihalovna. To these unknown men +touching her body she felt utterly indifferent. By now she had no +feeling of shame, no will, and any one might do what he would with +her. If any one had rushed at her with a knife, or had insulted +Pyotr Dmitritch, or had robbed her of her right to the little +creature, she would not have said a word. + +They gave her chloroform during the operation. When she came to +again, the pain was still there and insufferable. It was night. And +Olga Mihalovna remembered that there had been just such a night +with the stillness, the lamp, with the midwife sitting motionless +by the bed, with the drawers of the chest pulled out, with Pyotr +Dmitritch standing by the window, but some time very, very long +ago. . . . + +V + +"I am not dead . . ." thought Olga Mihalovna when she began to +understand her surroundings again, and when the pain was over. + +A bright summer day looked in at the widely open windows; in the +garden below the windows, the sparrows and the magpies never ceased +chattering for one instant. + +The drawers were shut now, her husband's bed had been made. There +was no sign of the midwife or of the maid, or of Varvara in the +room, only Pyotr Dmitritch was standing, as before, motionless by +the window looking into the garden. There was no sound of a child's +crying, no one was congratulating her or rejoicing, it was evident +that the little creature had not been born alive. + +"Pyotr!" + +Olga Mihalovna called to her husband. + +Pyotr Dmitritch looked round. It seemed as though a long time must +have passed since the last guest had departed and Olga Mihalovna +had insulted her husband, for Pyotr Dmitritch was perceptibly thinner +and hollow-eyed. + +"What is it?" he asked, coming up to the bed. + +He looked away, moved his lips and smiled with childlike helplessness. + +"Is it all over?" asked Olga Mihalovna. + +Pyotr Dmitritch tried to make some answer, but his lips quivered +and his mouth worked like a toothless old man's, like Uncle Nikolay +Nikolaitch's. + +"Olya," he said, wringing his hands; big tears suddenly dropping +from his eyes. "Olya, I don't care about your property qualification, +nor the Circuit Courts . . ." (he gave a sob) "nor particular views, +nor those visitors, nor your fortune. . . . I don't care about +anything! Why didn't we take care of our child? Oh, it's no good +talking!" + +With a despairing gesture he went out of the bedroom. + +But nothing mattered to Olga Mihalovna now, there was a mistiness +in her brain from the chloroform, an emptiness in her soul. . . . +The dull indifference to life which had overcome her when the two +doctors were performing the operation still had possession of her. + + +TERROR + +My Friend's Story + +DMITRI PETROVITCH SILIN had taken his degree and entered the +government service in Petersburg, but at thirty he gave up his post +and went in for agriculture. His farming was fairly successful, and +yet it always seemed to me that he was not in his proper place, and +that he would do well to go back to Petersburg. When sunburnt, grey +with dust, exhausted with toil, he met me near the gates or at the +entrance, and then at supper struggled with sleepiness and his wife +took him off to bed as though he were a baby; or when, overcoming +his sleepiness, he began in his soft, cordial, almost imploring +voice, to talk about his really excellent ideas, I saw him not as +a farmer nor an agriculturist, but only as a worried and exhausted +man, and it was clear to me that he did not really care for farming, +but that all he wanted was for the day to be over and "Thank God +for it." + +I liked to be with him, and I used to stay on his farm for two or +three days at a time. I liked his house, and his park, and his big +fruit garden, and the river--and his philosophy, which was clear, +though rather spiritless and rhetorical. I suppose I was fond of +him on his own account, though I can't say that for certain, as I +have not up to now succeeded in analysing my feelings at that time. +He was an intelligent, kind-hearted, genuine man, and not a bore, +but I remember that when he confided to me his most treasured secrets +and spoke of our relation to each other as friendship, it disturbed +me unpleasantly, and I was conscious of awkwardness. In his affection +for me there was something inappropriate, tiresome, and I should +have greatly preferred commonplace friendly relations. + +The fact is that I was extremely attracted by his wife, Marya +Sergeyevna. I was not in love with her, but I was attracted by her +face, her eyes, her voice, her walk. I missed her when I did not +see her for a long time, and my imagination pictured no one at that +time so eagerly as that young, beautiful, elegant woman. I had no +definite designs in regard to her, and did not dream of anything +of the sort, yet for some reason, whenever we were left alone, I +remembered that her husband looked upon me as his friend, and I +felt awkward. When she played my favourite pieces on the piano or +told me something interesting, I listened with pleasure, and yet +at the same time for some reason the reflection that she loved her +husband, that he was my friend, and that she herself looked upon +me as his friend, obtruded themselves upon me, my spirits flagged, +and I became listless, awkward, and dull. She noticed this change +and would usually say: + +"You are dull without your friend. We must send out to the fields +for him." + +And when Dmitri Petrovitch came in, she would say: + +"Well, here is your friend now. Rejoice." + +So passed a year and a half. + +It somehow happened one July Sunday that Dmitri Petrovitch and I, +having nothing to do, drove to the big village of Klushino to buy +things for supper. While we were going from one shop to another the +sun set and the evening came on--the evening which I shall probably +never forget in my life. After buying cheese that smelt like soap, +and petrified sausages that smelt of tar, we went to the tavern to +ask whether they had any beer. Our coachman went off to the blacksmith +to get our horses shod, and we told him we would wait for him near +the church. We walked, talked, laughed over our purchases, while a +man who was known in the district by a very strange nickname, "Forty +Martyrs," followed us all the while in silence with a mysterious +air like a detective. This Forty Martyrs was no other than Gavril +Syeverov, or more simply Gavryushka, who had been for a short time +in my service as a footman and had been dismissed by me for +drunkenness. He had been in Dmitri Petrovitch's service, too, and +by him had been dismissed for the same vice. He was an inveterate +drunkard, and indeed his whole life was as drunk and disorderly as +himself. His father had been a priest and his mother of noble rank, +so by birth he belonged to the privileged class; but however carefully +I scrutinized his exhausted, respectful, and always perspiring face, +his red beard now turning grey, his pitifully torn reefer jacket +and his red shirt, I could not discover in him the faintest trace +of anything we associate with privilege. He spoke of himself as a +man of education, and used to say that he had been in a clerical +school, but had not finished his studies there, as he had been +expelled for smoking; then he had sung in the bishop's choir and +lived for two years in a monastery, from which he was also expelled, +but this time not for smoking but for "his weakness." He had walked +all over two provinces, had presented petitions to the Consistory, +and to various government offices, and had been four times on his +trial. At last, being stranded in our district, he had served as a +footman, as a forester, as a kennelman, as a sexton, had married a +cook who was a widow and rather a loose character, and had so +hopelessly sunk into a menial position, and had grown so used to +filth and dirt, that he even spoke of his privileged origin with a +certain scepticism, as of some myth. At the time I am describing, +he was hanging about without a job, calling himself a carrier and +a huntsman, and his wife had disappeared and made no sign. + +From the tavern we went to the church and sat in the porch, waiting +for the coachman. Forty Martyrs stood a little way off and put his +hand before his mouth in order to cough in it respectfully if need +be. By now it was dark; there was a strong smell of evening dampness, +and the moon was on the point of rising. There were only two clouds +in the clear starry sky exactly over our heads: one big one and one +smaller; alone in the sky they were racing after one another like +mother and child, in the direction where the sunset was glowing. + +"What a glorious day!" said Dmitri Petrovitch. + +"In the extreme . . ." Forty Martyrs assented, and he coughed +respectfully into his hand. "How was it, Dmitri Petrovitch, you +thought to visit these parts?" he asked in an ingratiating voice, +evidently anxious to get up a conversation. + +Dmitri Petrovitch made no answer. Forty Martyrs heaved a deep sigh +and said softly, not looking at us: + +"I suffer solely through a cause to which I must answer to Almighty +God. No doubt about it, I am a hopeless and incompetent man; but +believe me, on my conscience, I am without a crust of bread and +worse off than a dog. . . . Forgive me, Dmitri Petrovitch." + +Silin was not listening, but sat musing with his head propped on +his fists. The church stood at the end of the street on the high +river-bank, and through the trellis gate of the enclosure we could +see the river, the water-meadows on the near side of it, and the +crimson glare of a camp fire about which black figures of men and +horses were moving. And beyond the fire, further away, there were +other lights, where there was a little village. They were singing +there. On the river, and here and there on the meadows, a mist was +rising. High narrow coils of mist, thick and white as milk, were +trailing over the river, hiding the reflection of the stars and +hovering over the willows. Every minute they changed their form, +and it seemed as though some were embracing, others were bowing, +others lifting up their arms to heaven with wide sleeves like +priests, as though they were praying. . . . Probably they reminded +Dmitri Petrovitch of ghosts and of the dead, for he turned facing +me and asked with a mournful smile: + +"Tell me, my dear fellow, why is it that when we want to tell some +terrible, mysterious, and fantastic story, we draw our material, +not from life, but invariably from the world of ghosts and of the +shadows beyond the grave." + +"We are frightened of what we don't understand." + +"And do you understand life? Tell me: do you understand life better +than the world beyond the grave?" + +Dmitri Petrovitch was sitting quite close to me, so that I felt his +breath upon my cheek. In the evening twilight his pale, lean face +seemed paler than ever and his dark beard was black as soot. His +eyes were sad, truthful, and a little frightened, as though he were +about to tell me something horrible. He looked into my eyes and +went on in his habitual imploring voice: + +"Our life and the life beyond the grave are equally incomprehensible +and horrible. If any one is afraid of ghosts he ought to be afraid, +too, of me, and of those lights and of the sky, seeing that, if you +come to reflect, all that is no less fantastic and beyond our grasp +than apparitions from the other world. Prince Hamlet did not kill +himself because he was afraid of the visions that might haunt his +dreams after death. I like that famous soliloquy of his, but, to +be candid, it never touched my soul. I will confess to you as a +friend that in moments of depression I have sometimes pictured to +myself the hour of my death. My fancy invented thousands of the +gloomiest visions, and I have succeeded in working myself up to an +agonizing exaltation, to a state of nightmare, and I assure you +that that did not seem to me more terrible than reality. What I +mean is, apparitions are terrible, but life is terrible, too. I +don't understand life and I am afraid of it, my dear boy; I don't +know. Perhaps I am a morbid person, unhinged. It seems to a sound, +healthy man that he understands everything he sees and hears, but +that 'seeming' is lost to me, and from day to day I am poisoning +myself with terror. There is a disease, the fear of open spaces, +but my disease is the fear of life. When I lie on the grass and +watch a little beetle which was born yesterday and understands +nothing, it seems to me that its life consists of nothing else but +fear, and in it I see myself." + +"What is it exactly you are frightened of?" I asked. + +"I am afraid of everything. I am not by nature a profound thinker, +and I take little interest in such questions as the life beyond the +grave, the destiny of humanity, and, in fact, I am rarely carried +away to the heights. What chiefly frightens me is the common routine +of life from which none of us can escape. I am incapable of +distinguishing what is true and what is false in my actions, and +they worry me. I recognize that education and the conditions of +life have imprisoned me in a narrow circle of falsity, that my whole +life is nothing else than a daily effort to deceive myself and other +people, and to avoid noticing it; and I am frightened at the thought +that to the day of my death I shall not escape from this falsity. +To-day I do something and to-morrow I do not understand why I did +it. I entered the service in Petersburg and took fright; I came +here to work on the land, and here, too, I am frightened. . . . I +see that we know very little and so make mistakes every day. We are +unjust, we slander one another and spoil each other's lives, we +waste all our powers on trash which we do not need and which hinders +us from living; and that frightens me, because I don't understand +why and for whom it is necessary. I don't understand men, my dear +fellow, and I am afraid of them. It frightens me to look at the +peasants, and I don't know for what higher objects they are suffering +and what they are living for. If life is an enjoyment, then they +are unnecessary, superfluous people; if the object and meaning of +life is to be found in poverty and unending, hopeless ignorance, I +can't understand for whom and what this torture is necessary. I +understand no one and nothing. Kindly try to understand this specimen, +for instance," said Dmitri Petrovitch, pointing to Forty Martyrs. +"Think of him!" + +Noticing that we were looking at him, Forty Martyrs coughed +deferentially into his fist and said: + +"I was always a faithful servant with good masters, but the great +trouble has been spirituous liquor. If a poor fellow like me were +shown consideration and given a place, I would kiss the ikon. My +word's my bond." + +The sexton walked by, looked at us in amazement, and began pulling +the rope. The bell, abruptly breaking upon the stillness of the +evening, struck ten with a slow and prolonged note. + +"It's ten o'clock, though," said Dmitri Petrovitch. "It's time we +were going. Yes, my dear fellow," he sighed, "if only you knew how +afraid I am of my ordinary everyday thoughts, in which one would +have thought there should be nothing dreadful. To prevent myself +thinking I distract my mind with work and try to tire myself out +that I may sleep sound at night. Children, a wife--all that seems +ordinary with other people; but how that weighs upon me, my dear +fellow!" + +He rubbed his face with his hands, cleared his throat, and laughed. + +"If I could only tell you how I have played the fool in my life!" +he said. "They all tell me that I have a sweet wife, charming +children, and that I am a good husband and father. They think I am +very happy and envy me. But since it has come to that, I will tell +you in secret: my happy family life is only a grievous misunderstanding, +and I am afraid of it." His pale face was distorted by a wry smile. +He put his arm round my waist and went on in an undertone: + +"You are my true friend; I believe in you and have a deep respect +for you. Heaven gave us friendship that we may open our hearts and +escape from the secrets that weigh upon us. Let me take advantage +of your friendly feeling for me and tell you the whole truth. My +home life, which seems to you so enchanting, is my chief misery and +my chief terror. I got married in a strange and stupid way. I must +tell you that I was madly in love with Masha before I married her, +and was courting her for two years. I asked her to marry me five +times, and she refused me because she did not care for me in the +least. The sixth, when burning with passion I crawled on my knees +before her and implored her to take a beggar and marry me, she +consented. . . . What she said to me was: 'I don't love you, but I +will be true to you. . . .' I accepted that condition with rapture. +At the time I understood what that meant, but I swear to God I don't +understand it now. 'I don't love you, but I will be true to you.' +What does that mean? It's a fog, a darkness. I love her now as +intensely as I did the day we were married, while she, I believe, +is as indifferent as ever, and I believe she is glad when I go away +from home. I don't know for certain whether she cares for me or not +--I don't know, I don't know; but, as you see, we live under the +same roof, call each other 'thou,' sleep together, have children, +our property is in common. . . . What does it mean, what does it +mean? What is the object of it? And do you understand it at all, +my dear fellow? It's cruel torture! Because I don't understand our +relations, I hate, sometimes her, sometimes myself, sometimes both +at once. Everything is in a tangle in my brain; I torment myself +and grow stupid. And as though to spite me, she grows more beautiful +every day, she is getting more wonderful. . . I fancy her hair is +marvellous, and her smile is like no other woman's. I love her, and +I know that my love is hopeless. Hopeless love for a woman by whom +one has two children! Is that intelligible? And isn't it terrible? +Isn't it more terrible than ghosts?" + +He was in the mood to have talked on a good deal longer, but luckily +we heard the coachman's voice. Our horses had arrived. We got into +the carriage, and Forty Martyrs, taking off his cap, helped us both +into the carriage with an expression that suggested that he had +long been waiting for an opportunity to come in contact with our +precious persons. + +"Dmitri Petrovitch, let me come to you," he said, blinking furiously +and tilting his head on one side. "Show divine mercy! I am dying +of hunger!" + +"Very well," said Silin. "Come, you shall stay three days, and then +we shall see." + +"Certainly, sir," said Forty Martyrs, overjoyed. "I'll come today, +sir." + +It was a five miles' drive home. Dmitri Petrovitch, glad that he +had at last opened his heart to his friend, kept his arm round my +waist all the way; and speaking now, not with bitterness and not +with apprehension, but quite cheerfully, told me that if everything +had been satisfactory in his home life, he should have returned to +Petersburg and taken up scientific work there. The movement which +had driven so many gifted young men into the country was, he said, +a deplorable movement. We had plenty of rye and wheat in Russia, +but absolutely no cultured people. The strong and gifted among the +young ought to take up science, art, and politics; to act otherwise +meant being wasteful. He generalized with pleasure and expressed +regret that he would be parting from me early next morning, as he +had to go to a sale of timber. + +And I felt awkward and depressed, and it seemed to me that I was +deceiving the man. And at the same time it was pleasant to me. I +gazed at the immense crimson moon which was rising, and pictured +the tall, graceful, fair woman, with her pale face, always well-dressed +and fragrant with some special scent, rather like musk, and for +some reason it pleased me to think she did not love her husband. + +On reaching home, we sat down to supper. Marya Sergeyevna, laughing, +regaled us with our purchases, and I thought that she certainly had +wonderful hair and that her smile was unlike any other woman's. I +watched her, and I wanted to detect in every look and movement that +she did not love her husband, and I fancied that I did see it. + +Dmitri Petrovitch was soon struggling with sleep. After supper he +sat with us for ten minutes and said: + +"Do as you please, my friends, but I have to be up at three o'clock +tomorrow morning. Excuse my leaving you." + +He kissed his wife tenderly, pressed my hand with warmth and +gratitude, and made me promise that I would certainly come the +following week. That he might not oversleep next morning, he went +to spend the night in the lodge. + +Marya Sergeyevna always sat up late, in the Petersburg fashion, and +for some reason on this occasion I was glad of it. + +"And now," I began when we were left alone, "and now you'll be kind +and play me something." + +I felt no desire for music, but I did not know how to begin the +conversation. She sat down to the piano and played, I don't remember +what. I sat down beside her and looked at her plump white hands and +tried to read something on her cold, indifferent face. Then she +smiled at something and looked at me. + +"You are dull without your friend," she said. + +I laughed. + +"It would be enough for friendship to be here once a month, but I +turn up oftener than once a week." + +Saying this, I got up and walked from one end of the room to the +other. She too got up and walked away to the fireplace. + +"What do you mean to say by that?" she said, raising her large, +clear eyes and looking at me. + +I made no answer. + +"What you say is not true," she went on, after a moment's thought. +"You only come here on account of Dmitri Petrovitch. Well, I am +very glad. One does not often see such friendships nowadays." + +"Aha!" I thought, and, not knowing what to say, I asked: "Would you +care for a turn in the garden?" + +I went out upon the verandah. Nervous shudders were running over +my head and I felt chilly with excitement. I was convinced now that +our conversation would be utterly trivial, and that there was nothing +particular we should be able to say to one another, but that, that +night, what I did not dare to dream of was bound to happen--that +it was bound to be that night or never. + +"What lovely weather!" I said aloud. + +"It makes absolutely no difference to me," she answered. + +I went into the drawing-room. Marya Sergeyevna was standing, as +before, near the fireplace, with her hands behind her back, looking +away and thinking of something. + +"Why does it make no difference to you?" I asked. + +"Because I am bored. You are only bored without your friend, but I +am always bored. However . . . that is of no interest to you." + +I sat down to the piano and struck a few chords, waiting to hear +what she would say. + +"Please don't stand on ceremony," she said, looking angrily at me, +and she seemed as though on the point of crying with vexation. "If +you are sleepy, go to bed. Because you are Dmitri Petrovitch's +friend, you are not in duty bound to be bored with his wife's +company. I don't want a sacrifice. Please go." + +I did not, of course, go to bed. She went out on the verandah while +I remained in the drawing-room and spent five minutes turning over +the music. Then I went out, too. We stood close together in the +shadow of the curtains, and below us were the steps bathed in +moonlight. The black shadows of the trees stretched across the +flower beds and the yellow sand of the paths. + +"I shall have to go away tomorrow, too," I said. + +"Of course, if my husband's not at home you can't stay here," she +said sarcastically. "I can imagine how miserable you would be if +you were in love with me! Wait a bit: one day I shall throw myself +on your neck. . . . I shall see with what horror you will run away +from me. That would be interesting." + +Her words and her pale face were angry, but her eyes were full of +tender passionate love. I already looked upon this lovely creature +as my property, and then for the first time I noticed that she had +golden eyebrows, exquisite eyebrows. I had never seen such eyebrows +before. The thought that I might at once press her to my heart, +caress her, touch her wonderful hair, seemed to me such a miracle +that I laughed and shut my eyes. + +"It's bed-time now. . . . A peaceful night," she said. + +"I don't want a peaceful night," I said, laughing, following her +into the drawing-room. "I shall curse this night if it is a peaceful +one." + +Pressing her hand, and escorting her to the door, I saw by her face +that she understood me, and was glad that I understood her, too. + +I went to my room. Near the books on the table lay Dmitri Petrovitch's +cap, and that reminded me of his affection for me. I took my stick +and went out into the garden. The mist had risen here, too, and the +same tall, narrow, ghostly shapes which I had seen earlier on the +river were trailing round the trees and bushes and wrapping about +them. What a pity I could not talk to them! + +In the extraordinarily transparent air, each leaf, each drop of dew +stood out distinctly; it was all smiling at me in the stillness +half asleep, and as I passed the green seats I recalled the words +in some play of Shakespeare's: "How sweetly falls the moonlight on +yon seat!" + +There was a mound in the garden; I went up it and sat down. I was +tormented by a delicious feeling. I knew for certain that in a +moment I should hold in my arms, should press to my heart her +magnificent body, should kiss her golden eyebrows; and I wanted to +disbelieve it, to tantalize myself, and was sorry that she had cost +me so little trouble and had yielded so soon. + +But suddenly I heard heavy footsteps. A man of medium height appeared +in the avenue, and I recognized him at once as Forty Martyrs. He +sat down on the bench and heaved a deep sigh, then crossed himself +three times and lay down. A minute later he got up and lay on the +other side. The gnats and the dampness of the night prevented his +sleeping. + +"Oh, life!" he said. "Wretched, bitter life!" + +Looking at his bent, wasted body and hearing his heavy, noisy sighs, +I thought of an unhappy, bitter life of which the confession had +been made to me that day, and I felt uneasy and frightened at my +blissful mood. I came down the knoll and went to the house. + +"Life, as he thinks, is terrible," I thought, "so don't stand on +ceremony with it, bend it to your will, and until it crushes you, +snatch all you can wring from it." + +Marya Sergeyevna was standing on the verandah. I put my arms round +her without a word, and began greedily kissing her eyebrows, her +temples, her neck. . . . + +In my room she told me she had loved me for a long time, more than +a year. She vowed eternal love, cried and begged me to take her +away with me. I repeatedly took her to the window to look at her +face in the moonlight, and she seemed to me a lovely dream, and I +made haste to hold her tight to convince myself of the truth of it. +It was long since I had known such raptures. . . . Yet somewhere +far away at the bottom of my heart I felt an awkwardness, and I was +ill at ease. In her love for me there was something incongruous and +burdensome, just as in Dmitri Petrovitch's friendship. It was a +great, serious passion with tears and vows, and I wanted nothing +serious in it--no tears, no vows, no talk of the future. Let that +moonlight night flash through our lives like a meteor and--_basta!_ + +At three o'clock she went out of my room, and, while I was standing +in the doorway, looking after her, at the end of the corridor Dmitri +Petrovitch suddenly made his appearance; she started and stood aside +to let him pass, and her whole figure was expressive of repulsion. +He gave a strange smile, coughed, and came into my room. + +"I forgot my cap here yesterday," he said without looking at me. + +He found it and, holding it in both hands, put it on his head; then +he looked at my confused face, at my slippers, and said in a strange, +husky voice unlike his own: + +"I suppose it must be my fate that I should understand nothing. . . . +If you understand anything, I congratulate you. It's all darkness +before my eyes." + +And he went out, clearing his throat. Afterwards from the window I +saw him by the stable, harnessing the horses with his own hands. +His hands were trembling, he was in nervous haste and kept looking +round at the house; probably he was feeling terror. Then he got +into the gig, and, with a strange expression as though afraid of +being pursued, lashed the horses. + +Shortly afterwards I set off, too. The sun was already rising, and +the mist of the previous day clung timidly to the bushes and the +hillocks. On the box of the carriage was sitting Forty Martyrs; he +had already succeeded in getting drunk and was muttering tipsy +nonsense. + +"I am a free man," he shouted to the horses. "Ah, my honeys, I am +a nobleman in my own right, if you care to know!" + +The terror of Dmitri Petrovitch, the thought of whom I could not +get out of my head, infected me. I thought of what had happened and +could make nothing of it. I looked at the rooks, and it seemed so +strange and terrible that they were flying. + +"Why have I done this?" I kept asking myself in bewilderment and +despair. "Why has it turned out like this and not differently? To +whom and for what was it necessary that she should love me in +earnest, and that he should come into my room to fetch his cap? +What had a cap to do with it?" + +I set off for Petersburg that day, and I have not seen Dmitri +Petrovitch nor his wife since. I am told that they are still living +together. + + +A WOMAN'S KINGDOM + +I + +Christmas Eve + +HERE was a thick roll of notes. It came from the bailiff at the +forest villa; he wrote that he was sending fifteen hundred roubles, +which he had been awarded as damages, having won an appeal. Anna +Akimovna disliked and feared such words as "awarded damages" and +"won the suit." She knew that it was impossible to do without the +law, but for some reason, whenever Nazaritch, the manager of the +factory, or the bailiff of her villa in the country, both of whom +frequently went to law, used to win lawsuits of some sort for her +benefit, she always felt uneasy and, as it were, ashamed. On this +occasion, too, she felt uneasy and awkward, and wanted to put that +fifteen hundred roubles further away that it might be out of her +sight. + +She thought with vexation that other girls of her age--she was +in her twenty-sixth year--were now busy looking after their +households, were weary and would sleep sound, and would wake up +tomorrow morning in holiday mood; many of them had long been married +and had children. Only she, for some reason, was compelled to sit +like an old woman over these letters, to make notes upon them, to +write answers, then to do nothing the whole evening till midnight, +but wait till she was sleepy; and tomorrow they would all day long +be coming with Christmas greetings and asking for favours; and the +day after tomorrow there would certainly be some scandal at the +factory--some one would be beaten or would die of drinking too +much vodka, and she would be fretted by pangs of conscience; and +after the holidays Nazaritch would turn off some twenty of the +workpeople for absence from work, and all of the twenty would hang +about at the front door, without their caps on, and she would be +ashamed to go out to them, and they would be driven away like dogs. +And all her acquaintances would say behind her back, and write to +her in anonymous letters, that she was a millionaire and exploiter +--that she was devouring other men's lives and sucking the blood +of the workers. + +Here there lay a heap of letters read through and laid aside already. +They were all begging letters. They were from people who were hungry, +drunken, dragged down by large families, sick, degraded, despised +. . . . Anna Akimovna had already noted on each letter, three roubles +to be paid to one, five to another; these letters would go the same +day to the office, and next the distribution of assistance would +take place, or, as the clerks used to say, the beasts would be fed. + +They would distribute also in small sums four hundred and seventy +roubles--the interest on a sum bequeathed by the late Akim +Ivanovitch for the relief of the poor and needy. There would be a +hideous crush. From the gates to the doors of the office there would +stretch a long file of strange people with brutal faces, in rags, +numb with cold, hungry and already drunk, in husky voices calling +down blessings upon Anna Akimovna, their benefactress, and her +parents: those at the back would press upon those in front, and +those in front would abuse them with bad language. The clerk would +get tired of the noise, the swearing, and the sing-song whining and +blessing; would fly out and give some one a box on the ear to the +delight of all. And her own people, the factory hands, who received +nothing at Christmas but their wages, and had already spent every +farthing of it, would stand in the middle of the yard, looking on +and laughing--some enviously, others ironically. + +"Merchants, and still more their wives, are fonder of beggars than +they are of their own workpeople," thought Anna Akimovna. "It's +always so." + +Her eye fell upon the roll of money. It would be nice to distribute +that hateful, useless money among the workpeople tomorrow, but it +did not do to give the workpeople anything for nothing, or they +would demand it again next time. And what would be the good of +fifteen hundred roubles when there were eighteen hundred workmen +in the factory besides their wives and children? Or she might, +perhaps, pick out one of the writers of those begging letters-- +some luckless man who had long ago lost all hope of anything better, +and give him the fifteen hundred. The money would come upon the +poor creature like a thunder-clap, and perhaps for the first time +in his life he would feel happy. This idea struck Anna Akimovna as +original and amusing, and it fascinated her. She took one letter +at random out of the pile and read it. Some petty official called +Tchalikov had long been out of a situation, was ill, and living in +Gushtchin's Buildings; his wife was in consumption, and he had five +little girls. Anna Akimovna knew well the four-storeyed house, +Gushtchin's Buildings, in which Tchalikov lived. Oh, it was a horrid, +foul, unhealthy house! + +"Well, I will give it to that Tchalikov," she decided. "I won't +send it; I had better take it myself to prevent unnecessary talk. +Yes," she reflected, as she put the fifteen hundred roubles in her +pocket, "and I'll have a look at them, and perhaps I can do something +for the little girls." + +She felt light-hearted; she rang the bell and ordered the horses +to be brought round. + +When she got into the sledge it was past six o'clock in the evening. +The windows in all the blocks of buildings were brightly lighted +up, and that made the huge courtyard seem very dark: at the gates, +and at the far end of the yard near the warehouses and the workpeople's +barracks, electric lamps were gleaming. + +Anna Akimovna disliked and feared those huge dark buildings, +warehouses, and barracks where the workmen lived. She had only once +been in the main building since her father's death. The high ceilings +with iron girders; the multitude of huge, rapidly turning wheels, +connecting straps and levers; the shrill hissing; the clank of +steel; the rattle of the trolleys; the harsh puffing of steam; the +faces--pale, crimson, or black with coal-dust; the shirts soaked +with sweat; the gleam of steel, of copper, and of fire; the smell +of oil and coal; and the draught, at times very hot and at times +very cold--gave her an impression of hell. It seemed to her as +though the wheels, the levers, and the hot hissing cylinders were +trying to tear themselves away from their fastenings to crush the +men, while the men, not hearing one another, ran about with anxious +faces, and busied themselves about the machines, trying to stop +their terrible movement. They showed Anna Akimovna something and +respectfully explained it to her. She remembered how in the forge +a piece of red-hot iron was pulled out of the furnace; and how an +old man with a strap round his head, and another, a young man in a +blue shirt with a chain on his breast, and an angry face, probably +one of the foremen, struck the piece of iron with hammers; and how +the golden sparks had been scattered in all directions; and how, a +little afterwards, they had dragged out a huge piece of sheet-iron +with a clang. The old man had stood erect and smiled, while the +young man had wiped his face with his sleeve and explained something +to her. And she remembered, too, how in another department an old +man with one eye had been filing a piece of iron, and how the iron +filings were scattered about; and how a red-haired man in black +spectacles, with holes in his shirt, had been working at a lathe, +making something out of a piece of steel: the lathe roared and +hissed and squeaked, and Anna Akimovna felt sick at the sound, and +it seemed as though they were boring into her ears. She looked, +listened, did not understand, smiled graciously, and felt ashamed. +To get hundreds of thousands of roubles from a business which one +does not understand and cannot like--how strange it is! + +And she had not once been in the workpeople's barracks. There, she +was told, it was damp; there were bugs, debauchery, anarchy. It was +an astonishing thing: a thousand roubles were spent annually on +keeping the barracks in good order, yet, if she were to believe the +anonymous letters, the condition of the workpeople was growing worse +and worse every year. + +"There was more order in my father's day," thought Anna Akimovna, +as she drove out of the yard, "because he had been a workman himself. +I know nothing about it and only do silly things." + +She felt depressed again, and was no longer glad that she had come, +and the thought of the lucky man upon whom fifteen hundred roubles +would drop from heaven no longer struck her as original and amusing. +To go to some Tchalikov or other, when at home a business worth a +million was gradually going to pieces and being ruined, and the +workpeople in the barracks were living worse than convicts, meant +doing something silly and cheating her conscience. Along the highroad +and across the fields near it, workpeople from the neighbouring +cotton and paper factories were walking towards the lights of the +town. There was the sound of talk and laughter in the frosty air. +Anna Akimovna looked at the women and young people, and she suddenly +felt a longing for a plain rough life among a crowd. She recalled +vividly that far-away time when she used to be called Anyutka, when +she was a little girl and used to lie under the same quilt with her +mother, while a washerwoman who lodged with them used to wash clothes +in the next room; while through the thin walls there came from the +neighbouring flats sounds of laughter, swearing, children's crying, +the accordion, and the whirr of carpenters' lathes and sewing-machines; +while her father, Akim Ivanovitch, who was clever at almost every +craft, would be soldering something near the stove, or drawing or +planing, taking no notice whatever of the noise and stuffiness. And +she longed to wash, to iron, to run to the shop and the tavern as +she used to do every day when she lived with her mother. She ought +to have been a work-girl and not the factory owner! Her big house +with its chandeliers and pictures; her footman Mishenka, with his +glossy moustache and swallowtail coat; the devout and dignified +Varvarushka, and smooth-tongued Agafyushka; and the young people +of both sexes who came almost every day to ask her for money, and +with whom she always for some reason felt guilty; and the clerks, +the doctors, and the ladies who were charitable at her expense, who +flattered her and secretly despised her for her humble origin-- +how wearisome and alien it all was to her! + +Here was the railway crossing and the city gate; then came houses +alternating with kitchen gardens; and at last the broad street where +stood the renowned Gushtchin's Buildings. The street, usually quiet, +was now on Christmas Eve full of life and movement. The eating-houses +and beer-shops were noisy. If some one who did not belong to that +quarter but lived in the centre of the town had driven through the +street now, he would have noticed nothing but dirty, drunken, and +abusive people; but Anna Akimovna, who had lived in those parts all +her life, was constantly recognizing in the crowd her own father +or mother or uncle. Her father was a soft fluid character, a little +fantastical, frivolous, and irresponsible. He did not care for +money, respectability, or power; he used to say that a working man +had no time to keep the holy-days and go to church; and if it had +not been for his wife, he would probably never have gone to confession, +taken the sacrament or kept the fasts. While her uncle, Ivan +Ivanovitch, on the contrary, was like flint; in everything relating +to religion, politics, and morality, he was harsh and relentless, +and kept a strict watch, not only over himself, but also over all +his servants and acquaintances. God forbid that one should go into +his room without crossing oneself before the ikon! The luxurious +mansion in which Anna Akimovna now lived he had always kept locked +up, and only opened it on great holidays for important visitors, +while he lived himself in the office, in a little room covered with +ikons. He had leanings towards the Old Believers, and was continually +entertaining priests and bishops of the old ritual, though he had +been christened, and married, and had buried his wife in accordance +with the Orthodox rites. He disliked Akim, his only brother and his +heir, for his frivolity, which he called simpleness and folly, and +for his indifference to religion. He treated him as an inferior, +kept him in the position of a workman, paid him sixteen roubles a +month. Akim addressed his brother with formal respect, and on the +days of asking forgiveness, he and his wife and daughter bowed down +to the ground before him. But three years before his death Ivan +Ivanovitch had drawn closer to his brother, forgave his shortcomings, +and ordered him to get a governess for Anyutka. + +There was a dark, deep, evil-smelling archway under Gushtchin's +Buildings; there was a sound of men coughing near the walls. Leaving +the sledge in the street, Anna Akimovna went in at the gate and +there inquired how to get to No. 46 to see a clerk called Tchalikov. +She was directed to the furthest door on the right in the third +story. And in the courtyard and near the outer door, and even on +the stairs, there was still the same loathsome smell as under the +archway. In Anna Akimovna's childhood, when her father was a simple +workman, she used to live in a building like that, and afterwards, +when their circumstances were different, she had often visited them +in the character of a Lady Bountiful. The narrow stone staircase +with its steep dirty steps, with landings at every story; the greasy +swinging lanterns; the stench; the troughs, pots, and rags on the +landings near the doors,--all this had been familiar to her long +ago. . . . One door was open, and within could be seen Jewish tailors +in caps, sewing. Anna Akimovna met people on the stairs, but it +never entered her head that people might be rude to her. She was +no more afraid of peasants or workpeople, drunk or sober, than of +her acquaintances of the educated class. + +There was no entry at No. 46; the door opened straight into the +kitchen. As a rule the dwellings of workmen and mechanics smell of +varnish, tar, hides, smoke, according to the occupation of the +tenant; the dwellings of persons of noble or official class who +have come to poverty may be known by a peculiar rancid, sour smell. +This disgusting smell enveloped Anna Akimovna on all sides, and as +yet she was only on the threshold. A man in a black coat, no doubt +Tchalikov himself, was sitting in a corner at the table with his +back to the door, and with him were five little girls. The eldest, +a broad-faced thin girl with a comb in her hair, looked about +fifteen, while the youngest, a chubby child with hair that stood +up like a hedge-hog, was not more than three. All the six were +eating. Near the stove stood a very thin little woman with a yellow +face, far gone in pregnancy. She was wearing a skirt and a white +blouse, and had an oven fork in her hand. + +"I did not expect you to be so disobedient, Liza," the man was +saying reproachfully. "Fie, fie, for shame! Do you want papa to +whip you--eh?" + +Seeing an unknown lady in the doorway, the thin woman started, and +put down the fork. + +"Vassily Nikititch!" she cried, after a pause, in a hollow voice, +as though she could not believe her eyes. + +The man looked round and jumped up. He was a flat-chested, bony man +with narrow shoulders and sunken temples. His eyes were small and +hollow with dark rings round them, he had a wide mouth, and a long +nose like a bird's beak--a little bit bent to the right. His beard +was parted in the middle, his moustache was shaven, and this made +him look more like a hired footman than a government clerk. + +"Does Mr. Tchalikov live here?" asked Anna Akimovna. + +"Yes, madam," Tchalikov answered severely, but immediately recognizing +Anna Akimovna, he cried: "Anna Akimovna!" and all at once he gasped +and clasped his hands as though in terrible alarm. "Benefactress!" + +With a moan he ran to her, grunting inarticulately as though he +were paralyzed--there was cabbage on his beard and he smelt of +vodka--pressed his forehead to her muff, and seemed as though he +were in a swoon. + +"Your hand, your holy hand!" he brought out breathlessly. "It's a +dream, a glorious dream! Children, awaken me!" + +He turned towards the table and said in a sobbing voice, shaking +his fists: + +"Providence has heard us! Our saviour, our angel, has come! We are +saved! Children, down on your knees! on your knees!" + +Madame Tchalikov and the little girls, except the youngest one, +began for some reason rapidly clearing the table. + +"You wrote that your wife was very ill," said Anna Akimovna, and +she felt ashamed and annoyed. "I am not going to give them the +fifteen hundred," she thought. + +"Here she is, my wife," said Tchalikov in a thin feminine voice, +as though his tears had gone to his head. "Here she is, unhappy +creature! With one foot in the grave! But we do not complain, madam. +Better death than such a life. Better die, unhappy woman!" + +"Why is he playing these antics?" thought Anna Akimovna with +annoyance. "One can see at once he is used to dealing with merchants." + +"Speak to me like a human being," she said. "I don't care for +farces.'' + +"Yes, madam; five bereaved children round their mother's coffin +with funeral candles--that's a farce? Eh?" said Tchalikov bitterly, +and turned away. + +"Hold your tongue," whispered his wife, and she pulled at his sleeve. +"The place has not been tidied up, madam," she said, addressing +Anna Akimovna; "please excuse it . . . you know what it is where +there are children. A crowded hearth, but harmony." + +"I am not going to give them the fifteen hundred," Anna Akimovna +thought again. + +And to escape as soon as possible from these people and from the +sour smell, she brought out her purse and made up her mind to leave +them twenty-five roubles, not more; but she suddenly felt ashamed +that she had come so far and disturbed people for so little. + +"If you give me paper and ink, I will write at once to a doctor who +is a friend of mine to come and see you," she said, flushing red. +"He is a very good doctor. And I will leave you some money for +medicine." + +Madame Tchalikov was hastening to wipe the table. + +"It's messy here! What are you doing?" hissed Tchalikov, looking +at her wrathfully. "Take her to the lodger's room! I make bold to +ask you, madam, to step into the lodger's room," he said, addressing +Anna Akimovna. "It's clean there." + +"Osip Ilyitch told us not to go into his room!" said one of the +little girls, sternly. + +But they had already led Anna Akimovna out of the kitchen, through +a narrow passage room between two bedsteads: it was evident from +the arrangement of the beds that in one two slept lengthwise, and +in the other three slept across the bed. In the lodger's room, that +came next, it really was clean. A neat-looking bed with a red woollen +quilt, a pillow in a white pillow-case, even a slipper for the +watch, a table covered with a hempen cloth and on it, an inkstand +of milky-looking glass, pens, paper, photographs in frames-- +everything as it ought to be; and another table for rough work, on +which lay tidily arranged a watchmaker's tools and watches taken +to pieces. On the walls hung hammers, pliers, awls, chisels, nippers, +and so on, and there were three hanging clocks which were ticking; +one was a big clock with thick weights, such as one sees in +eating-houses. + +As she sat down to write the letter, Anna Akimovna saw facing her +on the table the photographs of her father and of herself. That +surprised her. + +"Who lives here with you?" she asked. + +"Our lodger, madam, Pimenov. He works in your factory." + +"Oh, I thought he must be a watchmaker." + +"He repairs watches privately, in his leisure hours. He is an +amateur." + +After a brief silence during which nothing could be heard but the +ticking of the clocks and the scratching of the pen on the paper, +Tchalikov heaved a sigh and said ironically, with indignation: + +"It's a true saying: gentle birth and a grade in the service won't +put a coat on your back. A cockade in your cap and a noble title, +but nothing to eat. To my thinking, if any one of humble class helps +the poor he is much more of a gentleman than any Tchalikov who has +sunk into poverty and vice." + +To flatter Anna Akimovna, he uttered a few more disparaging phrases +about his gentle birth, and it was evident that he was humbling +himself because he considered himself superior to her. Meanwhile +she had finished her letter and had sealed it up. The letter would +be thrown away and the money would not be spent on medicine--that +she knew, but she put twenty-five roubles on the table all the same, +and after a moment's thought, added two more red notes. She saw the +wasted, yellow hand of Madame Tchalikov, like the claw of a hen, +dart out and clutch the money tight. + +"You have graciously given this for medicine," said Tchalikov in a +quivering voice, "but hold out a helping hand to me also . . . and +the children!" he added with a sob. "My unhappy children! I am not +afraid for myself; it is for my daughters I fear! It's the hydra +of vice that I fear!" + +Trying to open her purse, the catch of which had gone wrong, Anna +Akimovna was confused and turned red. She felt ashamed that people +should be standing before her, looking at her hands and waiting, +and most likely at the bottom of their hearts laughing at her. At +that instant some one came into the kitchen and stamped his feet, +knocking the snow off. + +"The lodger has come in," said Madame Tchalikov. + +Anna Akimovna grew even more confused. She did not want any one +from the factory to find her in this ridiculous position. As ill-luck +would have it, the lodger came in at the very moment when, having +broken the catch at last, she was giving Tchalikov some notes, and +Tchalikov, grunting as though he were paraylzed, was feeling about +with his lips where he could kiss her. In the lodger she recognized +the workman who had once clanked the sheet-iron before her in the +forge, and had explained things to her. Evidently he had come in +straight from the factory; his face looked dark and grimy, and on +one cheek near his nose was a smudge of soot. His hands were perfectly +black, and his unbelted shirt shone with oil and grease. He was a +man of thirty, of medium height, with black hair and broad shoulders, +and a look of great physical strength. At the first glance Anna +Akimovna perceived that he must be a foreman, who must be receiving +at least thirty-five roubles a month, and a stern, loud-voiced man +who struck the workmen in the face; all this was evident from his +manner of standing, from the attitude he involuntarily assumed at +once on seeing a lady in his room, and most of all from the fact +that he did not wear top-boots, that he had breast pockets, and a +pointed, picturesquely clipped beard. Her father, Akim Ivanovitch, +had been the brother of the factory owner, and yet he had been +afraid of foremen like this lodger and had tried to win their favour. + +"Excuse me for having come in here in your absence," said Anna +Akimovna. + +The workman looked at her in surprise, smiled in confusion and did +not speak. + +"You must speak a little louder, madam . . . ." said Tchalikov +softly. "When Mr. Pimenov comes home from the factory in the evenings +he is a little hard of hearing." + +But Anna Akimovna was by now relieved that there was nothing more +for her to do here; she nodded to them and went rapidly out of the +room. Pimenov went to see her out. + +"Have you been long in our employment?" she asked in a loud voice, +without turning to him. + +"From nine years old. I entered the factory in your uncle's time." + +"That's a long while! My uncle and my father knew all the workpeople, +and I know hardly any of them. I had seen you before, but I did not +know your name was Pimenov." + +Anna Akimovna felt a desire to justify herself before him, to pretend +that she had just given the money not seriously, but as a joke. + +"Oh, this poverty," she sighed. "We give charity on holidays and +working days, and still there is no sense in it. I believe it is +useless to help such people as this Tchalikov." + +"Of course it is useless," he agreed. "However much you give him, +he will drink it all away. And now the husband and wife will be +snatching it from one another and fighting all night," he added +with a laugh. + +"Yes, one must admit that our philanthropy is useless, boring, and +absurd. But still, you must agree, one can't sit with one's hand +in one's lap; one must do something. What's to be done with the +Tchalikovs, for instance?" + +She turned to Pimenov and stopped, expecting an answer from him; +he, too, stopped and slowly, without speaking, shrugged his shoulders. +Obviously he knew what to do with the Tchalikovs, but the treatment +would have been so coarse and inhuman that he did not venture to +put it into words. And the Tchalikovs were to him so utterly +uninteresting and worthless, that a moment later he had forgotten +them; looking into Anna Akimovna's eyes, he smiled with pleasure, +and his face wore an expression as though he were dreaming about +something very pleasant. Only, now standing close to him, Anna +Akimovna saw from his face, and especially from his eyes, how +exhausted and sleepy he was. + +"Here, I ought to give him the fifteen hundred roubles!" she thought, +but for some reason this idea seemed to her incongruous and insulting +to Pimenov. + +"I am sure you are aching all over after your work, and you come +to the door with me," she said as they went down the stairs. "Go +home." + +But he did not catch her words. When they came out into the street, +he ran on ahead, unfastened the cover of the sledge, and helping +Anna Akimovna in, said: + +"I wish you a happy Christmas!" + +II + +Christmas Morning + +"They have left off ringing ever so long! It's dreadful; you won't +be there before the service is over! Get up!" + +"Two horses are racing, racing . . ." said Anna Akimovna, and she +woke up; before her, candle in hand, stood her maid, red-haired +Masha. "Well, what is it?" + +"Service is over already," said Masha with despair. "I have called +you three times! Sleep till evening for me, but you told me yourself +to call you!" + +Anna Akimovna raised herself on her elbow and glanced towards the +window. It was still quite dark outside, and only the lower edge +of the window-frame was white with snow. She could hear a low, +mellow chime of bells; it was not the parish church, but somewhere +further away. The watch on the little table showed three minutes +past six. + +"Very well, Masha. . . . In three minutes . . ." said Anna Akimovna +in an imploring voice, and she snuggled under the bed-clothes. + +She imagined the snow at the front door, the sledge, the dark sky, +the crowd in the church, and the smell of juniper, and she felt +dread at the thought; but all the same, she made up her mind that +she would get up at once and go to early service. And while she was +warm in bed and struggling with sleep--which seems, as though to +spite one, particularly sweet when one ought to get up--and while +she had visions of an immense garden on a mountain and then Gushtchin's +Buildings, she was worried all the time by the thought that she +ought to get up that very minute and go to church. + +But when she got up it was quite light, and it turned out to be +half-past nine. There had been a heavy fall of snow in the night; +the trees were clothed in white, and the air was particularly light, +transparent, and tender, so that when Anna Akimovna looked out of +the window her first impulse was to draw a deep, deep breath. And +when she had washed, a relic of far-away childish feelings--joy +that today was Christmas--suddenly stirred within her; after that +she felt light-hearted, free and pure in soul, as though her soul, +too, had been washed or plunged in the white snow. Masha came in, +dressed up and tightly laced, and wished her a happy Christmas; +then she spent a long time combing her mistress's hair and helping +her to dress. The fragrance and feeling of the new, gorgeous, +splendid dress, its faint rustle, and the smell of fresh scent, +excited Anna Akimoyna. + +"Well, it's Christmas," she said gaily to Masha. "Now we will try +our fortunes." + +"Last year, I was to marry an old man. It turned up three times the +same." + +"Well, God is merciful." + +"Well, Anna Akimovna, what I think is, rather than neither one thing +nor the other, I'd marry an old man," said Masha mournfully, and +she heaved a sigh. "I am turned twenty; it's no joke." + +Every one in the house knew that red-haired Masha was in love with +Mishenka, the footman, and this genuine, passionate, hopeless love +had already lasted three years. + +"Come, don't talk nonsense," Anna Akimovna consoled her. "I am going +on for thirty, but I am still meaning to marry a young man." + +While his mistress was dressing, Mishenka, in a new swallow-tail +and polished boots, walked about the hall and drawing-room and +waited for her to come out, to wish her a happy Christmas. He had +a peculiar walk, stepping softly and delicately; looking at his +feet, his hands, and the bend of his head, it might be imagined +that he was not simply walking, but learning to dance the first +figure of a quadrille. In spite of his fine velvety moustache and +handsome, rather flashy appearance, he was steady, prudent, and +devout as an old man. He said his prayers, bowing down to the ground, +and liked burning incense in his room. He respected people of wealth +and rank and had a reverence for them; he despised poor people, and +all who came to ask favours of any kind, with all the strength of +his cleanly flunkey soul. Under his starched shirt he wore a flannel, +winter and summer alike, being very careful of his health; his ears +were plugged with cotton-wool. + +When Anna Akimovna crossed the hall with Masha, he bent his head +downwards a little and said in his agreeable, honeyed voice: + +"I have the honour to congratulate you, Anna Akimovna, on the most +solemn feast of the birth of our Lord." + +Anna Akimovna gave him five roubles, while poor Masha was numb with +ecstasy. His holiday get-up, his attitude, his voice, and what he +said, impressed her by their beauty and elegance; as she followed +her mistress she could think of nothing, could see nothing, she +could only smile, first blissfully and then bitterly. The upper +story of the house was called the best or visitors' half, while the +name of the business part--old people's or simply women's part +--was given to the rooms on the lower story where Aunt Tatyana +Ivanovna kept house. In the upper part the gentry and educated +visitors were entertained; in the lower story, simpler folk and the +aunt's personal friends. Handsome, plump, and healthy, still young +and fresh, and feeling she had on a magnificent dress which seemed +to her to diffuse a sort of radiance all about her, Anna Akimovna +went down to the lower story. Here she was met with reproaches for +forgetting God now that she was so highly educated, for sleeping +too late for the service, and for not coming downstairs to break +the fast, and they all clasped their hands and exclaimed with perfect +sincerity that she was lovely, wonderful; and she believed it, +laughed, kissed them, gave one a rouble, another three or five +according to their position. She liked being downstairs. Wherever +one looked there were shrines, ikons, little lamps, portraits of +ecclesiastical personages--the place smelt of monks; there was a +rattle of knives in the kitchen, and already a smell of something +savoury, exceedingly appetizing, was pervading all the rooms. The +yellow-painted floors shone, and from the doors narrow rugs with +bright blue stripes ran like little paths to the ikon corner, and +the sunshine was simply pouring in at the windows. + +In the dining-room some old women, strangers, were sitting; in +Varvarushka's room, too, there were old women, and with them a deaf +and dumb girl, who seemed abashed about something and kept saying, +"Bli, bli! . . ." Two skinny-looking little girls who had been +brought out of the orphanage for Christmas came up to kiss Anna +Akimovna's hand, and stood before her transfixed with admiration +of her splendid dress; she noticed that one of the girls squinted, +and in the midst of her light-hearted holiday mood she felt a sick +pang at her heart at the thought that young men would despise the +girl, and that she would never marry. In the cook Agafya's room, +five huge peasants in new shirts were sitting round the samovar; +these were not workmen from the factory, but relations of the cook. +Seeing Anna Akimovna, all the peasants jumped up from their seats, +and from regard for decorum, ceased munching, though their mouths +were full. The cook Stepan, in a white cap, with a knife in his +hand, came into the room and gave her his greetings; porters in +high felt boots came in, and they, too, offered their greetings. +The water-carrier peeped in with icicles on his beard, but did not +venture to come in. + +Anna Akimovna walked through the rooms followed by her retinue-- +the aunt, Varvarushka, Nikandrovna, the sewing-maid Marfa Petrovna, +and the downstairs Masha. Varvarushka--a tall, thin, slender +woman, taller than any one in the house, dressed all in black, +smelling of cypress and coffee--crossed herself in each room +before the ikon, bowing down from the waist. And whenever one looked +at her one was reminded that she had already prepared her shroud +and that lottery tickets were hidden away by her in the same box. + +"Anyutinka, be merciful at Christmas," she said, opening the door +into the kitchen. "Forgive him, bless the man! Have done with it!" + +The coachman Panteley, who had been dismissed for drunkenness in +November, was on his knees in the middle of the kitchen. He was a +good-natured man, but he used to be unruly when he was drunk, and +could not go to sleep, but persisted in wandering about the buildings +and shouting in a threatening voice, "I know all about it!" Now +from his beefy and bloated face and from his bloodshot eyes it could +be seen that he had been drinking continually from November till +Christmas. + +"Forgive me, Anna Akimovna," he brought out in a hoarse voice, +striking his forehead on the floor and showing his bull-like neck. + +"It was Auntie dismissed you; ask her." + +"What about auntie?" said her aunt, walking into the kitchen, +breathing heavily; she was very stout, and on her bosom one might +have stood a tray of teacups and a samovar. "What about auntie now? +You are mistress here, give your own orders; though these rascals +might be all dead for all I care. Come, get up, you hog!" she shouted +at Panteley, losing patience. "Get out of my sight! It's the last +time I forgive you, but if you transgress again--don't ask for +mercy!" + +Then they went into the dining-room to coffee. But they had hardly +sat down, when the downstairs Masha rushed headlong in, saying with +horror, "The singers!" And ran back again. They heard some one +blowing his nose, a low bass cough, and footsteps that sounded like +horses' iron-shod hoofs tramping about the entry near the hall. For +half a minute all was hushed. . . . The singers burst out so suddenly +and loudly that every one started. While they were singing, the +priest from the almshouses with the deacon and the sexton arrived. +Putting on the stole, the priest slowly said that when they were +ringing for matins it was snowing and not cold, but that the frost +was sharper towards morning, God bless it! and now there must be +twenty degrees of frost. + +"Many people maintain, though, that winter is healthier than summer," +said the deacon; then immediately assumed an austere expression and +chanted after the priest. "Thy Birth, O Christ our Lord. . . ." + +Soon the priest from the workmen's hospital came with the deacon, +then the Sisters from the hospital, children from the orphanage, +and then singing could be heard almost uninterruptedly. They sang, +had lunch, and went away. + +About twenty men from the factory came to offer their Christmas +greetings. They were only the foremen, mechanicians, and their +assistants, the pattern-makers, the accountant, and so on--all +of good appearance, in new black coats. They were all first-rate +men, as it were picked men; each one knew his value--that is, +knew that if he lost his berth today, people would be glad to take +him on at another factory. Evidently they liked Auntie, as they +behaved freely in her presence and even smoked, and when they had +all trooped in to have something to eat, the accountant put his arm +round her immense waist. They were free-and-easy, perhaps, partly +also because Varvarushka, who under the old masters had wielded +great power and had kept watch over the morals of the clerks, had +now no authority whatever in the house; and perhaps because many +of them still remembered the time when Auntie Tatyana Ivanovna, +whose brothers kept a strict hand over her, had been dressed like +a simple peasant woman like Agafya, and when Anna Akimovna used to +run about the yard near the factory buildings and every one used +to call her Anyutya. + +The foremen ate, talked, and kept looking with amazement at Anna +Akimovna, how she had grown up and how handsome she had become! But +this elegant girl, educated by governesses and teachers, was a +stranger to them; they could not understand her, and they instinctively +kept closer to "Auntie," who called them by their names, continually +pressed them to eat and drink, and, clinking glasses with them, had +already drunk two wineglasses of rowanberry wine with them. Anna +Akimovna was always afraid of their thinking her proud, an upstart, +or a crow in peacock's feathers; and now while the foremen were +crowding round the food, she did not leave the dining-room, but +took part in the conversation. She asked Pimenov, her acquaintance +of the previous day: + +"Why have you so many clocks in your room?" + +"I mend clocks," he answered. "I take the work up between times, +on holidays, or when I can't sleep." + +"So if my watch goes wrong I can bring it to you to be repaired?" +Anna Akimovna asked, laughing. + +"To be sure, I will do it with pleasure," said Pimenov, and there +was an expression of tender devotion in his face, when, not herself +knowing why, she unfastened her magnificent watch from its chain +and handed it to him; he looked at it in silence and gave it back. +"To be sure, I will do it with pleasure," he repeated. "I don't +mend watches now. My eyes are weak, and the doctors have forbidden +me to do fine work. But for you I can make an exception." + +"Doctors talk nonsense," said the accountant. They all laughed. +"Don't you believe them," he went on, flattered by the laughing; +"last year a tooth flew out of a cylinder and hit old Kalmykov such +a crack on the head that you could see his brains, and the doctor +said he would die; but he is alive and working to this day, only +he has taken to stammering since that mishap." + +"Doctors do talk nonsense, they do, but not so much," sighed Auntie. +"Pyotr Andreyitch, poor dear, lost his sight. Just like you, he +used to work day in day out at the factory near the hot furnace, +and he went blind. The eyes don't like heat. But what are we talking +about?" she said, rousing herself. "Come and have a drink. My best +wishes for Christmas, my dears. I never drink with any one else, +but I drink with you, sinful woman as I am. Please God!" + +Anna Akimovna fancied that after yesterday Pimenov despised her as +a philanthropist, but was fascinated by her as a woman. She looked +at him and thought that he behaved very charmingly and was nicely +dressed. It is true that the sleeves of his coat were not quite +long enough, and the coat itself seemed short-waisted, and his +trousers were not wide and fashionable, but his tie was tied +carelessly and with taste and was not as gaudy as the others'. And +he seemed to be a good-natured man, for he ate submissively whatever +Auntie put on his plate. She remembered how black he had been the +day before, and how sleepy, and the thought of it for some reason +touched her. + +When the men were preparing to go, Anna Akimovna put out her hand +to Pimenov. She wanted to ask him to come in sometimes to see her, +without ceremony, but she did not know how to--her tongue would +not obey her; and that they might not think she was attracted by +Pimenov, she shook hands with his companions, too. + +Then the boys from the school of which she was a patroness came. +They all had their heads closely cropped and all wore grey blouses +of the same pattern. The teacher--a tall, beardless young man +with patches of red on his face--was visibly agitated as he formed +the boys into rows; the boys sang in tune, but with harsh, disagreeable +voices. The manager of the factory, Nazaritch, a bald, sharp-eyed +Old Believer, could never get on with the teachers, but the one who +was now anxiously waving his hands he despised and hated, though +he could not have said why. He behaved rudely and condescendingly +to the young man, kept back his salary, meddled with the teaching, +and had finally tried to dislodge him by appointing, a fortnight +before Christmas, as porter to the school a drunken peasant, a +distant relation of his wife's, who disobeyed the teacher and said +rude things to him before the boys. + +Anna Akimovna was aware of all this, but she could be of no help, +for she was afraid of Nazaritch herself. Now she wanted at least +to be very nice to the schoolmaster, to tell him she was very much +pleased with him; but when after the singing he began apologizing +for something in great confusion, and Auntie began to address him +familiarly as she drew him without ceremony to the table, she felt, +for some reason, bored and awkward, and giving orders that the +children should be given sweets, went upstairs. + +"In reality there is something cruel in these Christmas customs," +she said a little while afterwards, as it were to herself, looking +out of window at the boys, who were flocking from the house to the +gates and shivering with cold, putting their coats on as they ran. +"At Christmas one wants to rest, to sit at home with one's own +people, and the poor boys, the teacher, and the clerks and foremen, +are obliged for some reason to go through the frost, then to offer +their greetings, show their respect, be put to confusion . . ." + +Mishenka, who was standing at the door of the drawing-room and +overheard this, said: + +"It has not come from us, and it will not end with us. Of course, +I am not an educated man, Anna Akimovna, but I do understand that +the poor must always respect the rich. It is well said, 'God marks +the rogue.' In prisons, night refuges, and pot-houses you never see +any but the poor, while decent people, you may notice, are always +rich. It has been said of the rich, 'Deep calls to deep.'" + +"You always express yourself so tediously and incomprehensibly," +said Anna Akimovna, and she walked to the other end of the big +drawing-room. + +It was only just past eleven. The stillness of the big room, only +broken by the singing that floated up from below, made her yawn. +The bronzes, the albums, and the pictures on the walls, representing +a ship at sea, cows in a meadow, and views of the Rhine, were so +absolutely stale that her eyes simply glided over them without +observing them. The holiday mood was already growing tedious. As +before, Anna Akimovna felt that she was beautiful, good-natured, +and wonderful, but now it seemed to her that that was of no use to +any one; it seemed to her that she did not know for whom and for +what she had put on this expensive dress, too, and, as always +happened on all holidays, she began to be fretted by loneliness and +the persistent thought that her beauty, her health, and her wealth, +were a mere cheat, since she was not wanted, was of no use to any +one, and nobody loved her. She walked through all the rooms, humming +and looking out of window; stopping in the drawing-room, she could +not resist beginning to talk to Mishenka. + +"I don't know what you think of yourself, Misha," she said, and +heaved a sigh. "Really, God might punish you for it." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You know what I mean. Excuse my meddling in your affairs. But it +seems you are spoiling your own life out of obstinacy. You'll admit +that it is high time you got married, and she is an excellent and +deserving girl. You will never find any one better. She's a beauty, +clever, gentle, and devoted. . . . And her appearance! . . . If she +belonged to our circle or a higher one, people would be falling in +love with her for her red hair alone. See how beautifully her hair +goes with her complexion. Oh, goodness! You don't understand anything, +and don't know what you want," Anna Akimovna said bitterly, and +tears came into her eyes. "Poor girl, I am so sorry for her! I know +you want a wife with money, but I have told you already I will give +Masha a dowry." + +Mishenka could not picture his future spouse in his imagination +except as a tall, plump, substantial, pious woman, stepping like a +peacock, and, for some reason, with a long shawl over her shoulders; +while Masha was thin, slender, tightly laced, and walked with little +steps, and, worst of all, she was too fascinating and at times +extremely attractive to Mishenka, and that, in his opinion, was +incongruous with matrimony and only in keeping with loose behaviour. +When Anna Akimovna had promised to give Masha a dowry, he had +hesitated for a time; but once a poor student in a brown overcoat +over his uniform, coming with a letter for Anna Akimovna, was +fascinated by Masha, and could not resist embracing her near the +hat-stand, and she had uttered a faint shriek; Mishenka, standing +on the stairs above, had seen this, and from that time had begun +to cherish a feeling of disgust for Masha. A poor student! Who +knows, if she had been embraced by a rich student or an officer the +consequences might have been different. + +"Why don't you wish it?" Anna Akimovna asked. "What more do you +want?" + +Mishenka was silent and looked at the arm-chair fixedly, and raised +his eyebrows. + +"Do you love some one else?" + +Silence. The red-haired Masha came in with letters and visiting +cards on a tray. Guessing that they were talking about her, she +blushed to tears. + +"The postmen have come," she muttered. "And there is a clerk called +Tchalikov waiting below. He says you told him to come to-day for +something." + +"What insolence!" said Anna Akimovna, moved to anger. "I gave him +no orders. Tell him to take himself off; say I am not at home!" + +A ring was heard. It was the priests from her parish. They were +always shown into the aristocratic part of the house--that is, +upstairs. After the priests, Nazaritch, the manager of the factory, +came to pay his visit, and then the factory doctor; then Mishenka +announced the inspector of the elementary schools. Visitors kept +arriving. + +When there was a moment free, Anna Akimovna sat down in a deep +arm-chair in the drawing-room, and shutting her eyes, thought that +her loneliness was quite natural because she had not married and +never would marry. . . . But that was not her fault. Fate itself +had flung her out of the simple working-class surroundings in which, +if she could trust her memory, she had felt so snug and at home, +into these immense rooms, where she could never think what to do +with herself, and could not understand why so many people kept +passing before her eyes. What was happening now seemed to her +trivial, useless, since it did not and could not give her happiness +for one minute. + +"If I could fall in love," she thought, stretching; the very thought +of this sent a rush of warmth to her heart. "And if I could escape +from the factory . . ." she mused, imagining how the weight of those +factory buildings, barracks, and schools would roll off her conscience, +roll off her mind. . . . Then she remembered her father, and thought +if he had lived longer he would certainly have married her to a +working man--to Pimenov, for instance. He would have told her to +marry, and that would have been all about it. And it would have +been a good thing; then the factory would have passed into capable +hands. + +She pictured his curly head, his bold profile, his delicate, ironical +lips and the strength, the tremendous strength, in his shoulders, +in his arms, in his chest, and the tenderness with which he had +looked at her watch that day. + +"Well," she said, "it would have been all right. I would have married +him." + +"Anna Akimovna," said Mishenka, coming noiselessly into the +drawing-room. + +"How you frightened me!" she said, trembling all over. "What do you +want?" + +"Anna Akimovna," he said, laying his hand on his heart and raising +his eyebrows, "you are my mistress and my benefactress, and no one +but you can tell me what I ought to do about marriage, for you are +as good as a mother to me. . . . But kindly forbid them to laugh +and jeer at me downstairs. They won't let me pass without it." + +"How do they jeer at you?" + +"They call me Mashenka's Mishenka." + +"Pooh, what nonsense!" cried Anna Akimovna indignantly. "How stupid +you all are! What a stupid you are, Misha! How sick I am of you! I +can't bear the sight of you." + +III + +Dinner + +Just as the year before, the last to pay her visits were Krylin, +an actual civil councillor, and Lysevitch, a well-known barrister. +It was already dark when they arrived. Krylin, a man of sixty, with +a wide mouth and with grey whiskers close to his ears, with a face +like a lynx, was wearing a uniform with an Anna ribbon, and white +trousers. He held Anna Akimovna's hand in both of his for a long +while, looked intently in her face, moved his lips, and at last +said, drawling upon one note: + +"I used to respect your uncle . . . and your father, and enjoyed +the privilege of their friendship. Now I feel it an agreeable duty, +as you see, to present my Christmas wishes to their honoured heiress +in spite of my infirmities and the distance I have to come. . . . +And I am very glad to see you in good health." + +The lawyer Lysevitch, a tall, handsome fair man, with a slight +sprinkling of grey on his temples and beard, was distinguished by +exceptionally elegant manners; he walked with a swaying step, bowed +as it were reluctantly, and shrugged his shoulders as he talked, +and all this with an indolent grace, like a spoiled horse fresh +from the stable. He was well fed, extremely healthy, and very well +off; on one occasion he had won forty thousand roubles, but concealed +the fact from his friends. He was fond of good fare, especially +cheese, truffles, and grated radish with hemp oil; while in Paris +he had eaten, so he said, baked but unwashed guts. He spoke smoothly, +fluently, without hesitation, and only occasionally, for the sake +of effect, permitted himself to hesitate and snap his fingers as +if picking up a word. He had long ceased to believe in anything he +had to say in the law courts, or perhaps he did believe in it, but +attached no kind of significance to it; it had all so long been +familiar, stale, ordinary. . . . He believed in nothing but what +was original and unusual. A copy-book moral in an original form +would move him to tears. Both his notebooks were filled with +extraordinary expressions which he had read in various authors; and +when he needed to look up any expression, he would search nervously +in both books, and usually failed to find it. Anna Akimovna's father +had in a good-humoured moment ostentatiously appointed him legal +adviser in matters concerning the factory, and had assigned him a +salary of twelve thousand roubles. The legal business of the factory +had been confined to two or three trivial actions for recovering +debts, which Lysevitch handed to his assistants. + +Anna Akimovna knew that he had nothing to do at the factory, but +she could not dismiss him--she had not the moral courage; and +besides, she was used to him. He used to call himself her legal +adviser, and his salary, which he invariably sent for on the first +of the month punctually, he used to call "stern prose." Anna Akimovna +knew that when, after her father's death, the timber of her forest +was sold for railway sleepers, Lysevitch had made more than fifteen +thousand out of the transaction, and had shared it with Nazaritch. +When first she found out they had cheated her she had wept bitterly, +but afterwards she had grown used to it. + +Wishing her a happy Christmas, and kissing both her hands, he looked +her up and down, and frowned. + +"You mustn't," he said with genuine disappointment. "I have told +you, my dear, you mustn't!" + +"What do you mean, Viktor Nikolaitch?" + +"I have told you you mustn't get fat. All your family have an +unfortunate tendency to grow fat. You mustn't," he repeated in an +imploring voice, and kissed her hand. "You are so handsome! You are +so splendid! Here, your Excellency, let me introduce the one woman +in the world whom I have ever seriously loved." + +"There is nothing surprising in that. To know Anna Akimovna at your +age and not to be in love with her, that would be impossible." + +"I adore her," the lawyer continued with perfect sincerity, but +with his usual indolent grace. "I love her, but not because I am a +man and she is a woman. When I am with her I always feel as though +she belongs to some third sex, and I to a fourth, and we float away +together into the domain of the subtlest shades, and there we blend +into the spectrum. Leconte de Lisle defines such relations better +than any one. He has a superb passage, a marvellous passage. . . ." + +Lysevitch rummaged in one notebook, then in the other, and, not +finding the quotation, subsided. They began talking of the weather, +of the opera, of the arrival, expected shortly, of Duse. Anna +Akimovna remembered that the year before Lysevitch and, she fancied, +Krylin had dined with her, and now when they were getting ready to +go away, she began with perfect sincerity pointing out to them in +an imploring voice that as they had no more visits to pay, they +ought to remain to dinner with her. After some hesitation the +visitors agreed. + +In addition to the family dinner, consisting of cabbage soup, sucking +pig, goose with apples, and so on, a so-called "French" or "chef's" +dinner used to be prepared in the kitchen on great holidays, in +case any visitor in the upper story wanted a meal. When they heard +the clatter of crockery in the dining-room, Lysevitch began to +betray a noticeable excitement; he rubbed his hands, shrugged his +shoulders, screwed up his eyes, and described with feeling what +dinners her father and uncle used to give at one time, and a +marvellous _matelote_ of turbots the cook here could make: it was +not a _matelote_, but a veritable revelation! He was already gloating +over the dinner, already eating it in imagination and enjoying it. +When Anna Akimovna took his arm and led him to the dining-room, he +tossed off a glass of vodka and put a piece of salmon in his mouth; +he positively purred with pleasure. He munched loudly, disgustingly, +emitting sounds from his nose, while his eyes grew oily and rapacious. + +The _hors d'oeuvres_ were superb; among other things, there were +fresh white mushrooms stewed in cream, and sauce _provencale_ made +of fried oysters and crayfish, strongly flavoured with some bitter +pickles. The dinner, consisting of elaborate holiday dishes, was +excellent, and so were the wines. Mishenka waited at table with +enthusiasm. When he laid some new dish on the table and lifted the +shining cover, or poured out the wine, he did it with the solemnity +of a professor of black magic, and, looking at his face and his +movements suggesting the first figure of a quadrille, the lawyer +thought several times, "What a fool!" + +After the third course Lysevitch said, turning to Anna Akimovna: + +"The _fin de siecle_ woman--I mean when she is young, and of +course wealthy--must be independent, clever, elegant, intellectual, +bold, and a little depraved. Depraved within limits, a little; for +excess, you know, is wearisome. You ought not to vegetate, my dear; +you ought not to live like every one else, but to get the full +savour of life, and a slight flavour of depravity is the sauce of +life. Revel among flowers of intoxicating fragrance, breathe the +perfume of musk, eat hashish, and best of all, love, love, love +. . . . To begin with, in your place I would set up seven lovers--one +for each day of the week; and one I would call Monday, one Tuesday, +the third Wednesday, and so on, so that each might know his day." + +This conversation troubled Anna Akimovna; she ate nothing and only +drank a glass of wine. + +"Let me speak at last," she said. "For myself personally, I can't +conceive of love without family life. I am lonely, lonely as the +moon in the sky, and a waning moon, too; and whatever you may say, +I am convinced, I feel that this waning can only be restored by +love in its ordinary sense. It seems to me that such love would +define my duties, my work, make clear my conception of life. I want +from love peace of soul, tranquillity; I want the very opposite of +musk, and spiritualism, and _fin de siecle_ . . . in short"--she +grew embarrassed--"a husband and children." + +"You want to be married? Well, you can do that, too," Lysevitch +assented. "You ought to have all experiences: marriage, and jealousy, +and the sweetness of the first infidelity, and even children. . . . +But make haste and live--make haste, my dear: time is passing; +it won't wait." + +"Yes, I'll go and get married!" she said, looking angrily at his +well-fed, satisfied face. "I will marry in the simplest, most +ordinary way and be radiant with happiness. And, would you believe +it, I will marry some plain working man, some mechanic or draughtsman." + +"There is no harm in that, either. The Duchess Josiana loved Gwinplin, +and that was permissible for her because she was a grand duchess. +Everything is permissible for you, too, because you are an exceptional +woman: if, my dear, you want to love a negro or an Arab, don't +scruple; send for a negro. Don't deny yourself anything. You ought +to be as bold as your desires; don't fall short of them." + +"Can it be so hard to understand me?" Anna Akimovna asked with +amazement, and her eyes were bright with tears. "Understand, I have +an immense business on my hands--two thousand workmen, for whom +I must answer before God. The men who work for me grow blind and +deaf. I am afraid to go on like this; I am afraid! I am wretched, +and you have the cruelty to talk to me of negroes and . . . and you +smile!" Anna Akimovna brought her fist down on the table. "To go +on living the life I am living now, or to marry some one as idle +and incompetent as myself, would be a crime. I can't go on living +like this," she said hotly, "I cannot!" + +"How handsome she is!" said Lysevitch, fascinated by her. "My God, +how handsome she is! But why are you angry, my dear? Perhaps I am +wrong; but surely you don't imagine that if, for the sake of ideas +for which I have the deepest respect, you renounce the joys of life +and lead a dreary existence, your workmen will be any the better +for it? Not a scrap! No, frivolity, frivolity!" he said decisively. +"It's essential for you; it's your duty to be frivolous and depraved! +Ponder that, my dear, ponder it." + +Anna Akimovna was glad she had spoken out, and her spirits rose. +She was pleased she had spoken so well, and that her ideas were so +fine and just, and she was already convinced that if Pimenov, for +instance, loved her, she would marry him with pleasure. + +Mishenka began to pour out champagne. + +"You make me angry, Viktor Nikolaitch," she said, clinking glasses +with the lawyer. "It seems to me you give advice and know nothing +of life yourself. According to you, if a man be a mechanic or a +draughtsman, he is bound to be a peasant and an ignoramus! But they +are the cleverest people! Extraordinary people!" + +"Your uncle and father . . . I knew them and respected them . . ." +Krylin said, pausing for emphasis (he had been sitting upright as +a post, and had been eating steadily the whole time), "were people +of considerable intelligence and . . . of lofty spiritual qualities." + +"Oh, to be sure, we know all about their qualities," the lawyer +muttered, and asked permission to smoke. + +When dinner was over Krylin was led away for a nap. Lysevitch +finished his cigar, and, staggering from repletion, followed Anna +Akimovna into her study. Cosy corners with photographs and fans on +the walls, and the inevitable pink or pale blue lanterns in the +middle of the ceiling, he did not like, as the expression of an +insipid and unoriginal character; besides, the memory of certain +of his love affairs of which he was now ashamed was associated with +such lanterns. Anna Akimovna's study with its bare walls and tasteless +furniture pleased him exceedingly. It was snug and comfortable for +him to sit on a Turkish divan and look at Anna Akimovna, who usually +sat on the rug before the fire, clasping her knees and looking into +the fire and thinking of something; and at such moments it seemed +to him that her peasant Old Believer blood was stirring within her. + +Every time after dinner when coffee and liqueurs were handed, he +grew livelier and began telling her various bits of literary gossip. +He spoke with eloquence and inspiration, and was carried away by +his own stories; and she listened to him and thought every time +that for such enjoyment it was worth paying not only twelve thousand, +but three times that sum, and forgave him everything she disliked +in him. He sometimes told her the story of some tale or novel he +had been reading, and then two or three hours passed unnoticed like +a minute. Now he began rather dolefully in a failing voice with his +eyes shut. + +"It's ages, my dear, since I have read anything," he said when she +asked him to tell her something. "Though I do sometimes read Jules +Verne." + +"I was expecting you to tell me something new." + +"H'm! . . . new," Lysevitch muttered sleepily, and he settled himself +further back in the corner of the sofa. "None of the new literature, +my dear, is any use for you or me. Of course, it is bound to be +such as it is, and to refuse to recognize it is to refuse to recognize +--would mean refusing to recognize the natural order of things, +and I do recognize it, but . . ." Lysevitch seemed to have fallen +asleep. But a minute later his voice was heard again: + +"All the new literature moans and howls like the autumn wind in the +chimney. 'Ah, unhappy wretch! Ah, your life may be likened to a +prison! Ah, how damp and dark it is in your prison! Ah, you will +certainly come to ruin, and there is no chance of escape for you!' +That's very fine, but I should prefer a literature that would tell +us how to escape from prison. Of all contemporary writers, however, +I prefer Maupassant." Lysevitch opened his eyes. "A fine writer, a +perfect writer!" Lysevitch shifted in his seat. "A wonderful artist! +A terrible, prodigious, supernatural artist!" Lysevitch got up from +the sofa and raised his right arm. "Maupassant!" he said rapturously. +"My dear, read Maupassant! one page of his gives you more than all +the riches of the earth! Every line is a new horizon. The softest, +tenderest impulses of the soul alternate with violent tempestuous +sensations; your soul, as though under the weight of forty thousand +atmospheres, is transformed into the most insignificant little bit +of some great thing of an undefined rosy hue which I fancy, if one +could put it on one's tongue, would yield a pungent, voluptuous +taste. What a fury of transitions, of motives, of melodies! You +rest peacefully on the lilies and the roses, and suddenly a thought +--a terrible, splendid, irresistible thought--swoops down upon +you like a locomotive, and bathes you in hot steam and deafens you +with its whistle. Read Maupassant, dear girl; I insist on it." + +Lysevitch waved his arms and paced from corner to corner in violent +excitement. + +"Yes, it is inconceivable," he pronounced, as though in despair; +"his last thing overwhelmed me, intoxicated me! But I am afraid you +will not care for it. To be carried away by it you must savour it, +slowly suck the juice from each line, drink it in. . . . You must +drink it in! . . ." + +After a long introduction, containing many words such as daemonic +sensuality, a network of the most delicate nerves, simoom, crystal, +and so on, he began at last telling the story of the novel. He did +not tell the story so whimsically, but told it in minute detail, +quoting from memory whole descriptions and conversations; the +characters of the novel fascinated him, and to describe them he +threw himself into attitudes, changed the expression of his face +and voice like a real actor. He laughed with delight at one moment +in a deep bass, and at another, on a high shrill note, clasped his +hands and clutched at his head with an expression which suggested +that it was just going to burst. Anna Akimovna listened enthralled, +though she had already read the novel, and it seemed to her ever +so much finer and more subtle in the lawyer's version than in the +book itself. He drew her attention to various subtleties, and +emphasized the felicitous expressions and the profound thoughts, +but she saw in it, only life, life, life and herself, as though she +had been a character in the novel. Her spirits rose, and she, too, +laughing and clasping her hands, thought that she could not go on +living such a life, that there was no need to have a wretched life +when one might have a splendid one. She remembered her words and +thoughts at dinner, and was proud of them; and when Pimenov suddenly +rose up in her imagination, she felt happy and longed for him to +love her. + +When he had finished the story, Lysevitch sat down on the sofa, +exhausted. + +"How splendid you are! How handsome!" he began, a little while +afterwards in a faint voice as if he were ill. "I am happy near +you, dear girl, but why am I forty-two instead of thirty? Your +tastes and mine do not coincide: you ought to be depraved, and I +have long passed that phase, and want a love as delicate and +immaterial as a ray of sunshine--that is, from the point of view +of a woman of your age, I am of no earthly use." + +In his own words, he loved Turgenev, the singer of virginal love +and purity, of youth, and of the melancholy Russian landscape; but +he loved virginal love, not from knowledge but from hearsay, as +something abstract, existing outside real life. Now he assured +himself that he loved Anna Akimovna platonically, ideally, though +he did not know what those words meant. But he felt comfortable, +snug, warm. Anna Akimovna seemed to him enchanting, original, and +he imagined that the pleasant sensation that was aroused in him by +these surroundings was the very thing that was called platonic love. + +He laid his cheek on her hand and said in the tone commonly used +in coaxing little children: + +"My precious, why have you punished me?" + +"How? When?" + +"I have had no Christmas present from you." + +Anna Akimovna had never heard before of their sending a Christmas +box to the lawyer, and now she was at a loss how much to give him. +But she must give him something, for he was expecting it, though +he looked at her with eyes full of love. + +"I suppose Nazaritch forgot it," she said, "but it is not too late +to set it right." + +She suddenly remembered the fifteen hundred she had received the +day before, which was now lying in the toilet drawer in her bedroom. +And when she brought that ungrateful money and gave it to the lawyer, +and he put it in his coat pocket with indolent grace, the whole +incident passed off charmingly and naturally. The sudden reminder +of a Christmas box and this fifteen hundred was not unbecoming in +Lysevitch. + +"Merci," he said, and kissed her finger. + +Krylin came in with blissful, sleepy face, but without his decorations. + +Lysevitch and he stayed a little longer and drank a glass of tea +each, and began to get ready to go. Anna Akimovna was a little +embarrassed. . . . She had utterly forgotten in what department +Krylin served, and whether she had to give him money or not; and +if she had to, whether to give it now or send it afterwards in an +envelope. + +"Where does he serve?" she whispered to Lysevitch. + +"Goodness knows," muttered Lysevitch, yawning. + +She reflected that if Krylin used to visit her father and her uncle +and respected them, it was probably not for nothing: apparently he +had been charitable at their expense, serving in some charitable +institution. As she said good-bye she slipped three hundred roubles +into his hand; he seemed taken aback, and looked at her for a minute +in silence with his pewtery eyes, but then seemed to understand and +said: + +"The receipt, honoured Anna Akimovna, you can only receive on the +New Year." + +Lysevitch had become utterly limp and heavy, and he staggered when +Mishenka put on his overcoat. + +As he went downstairs he looked like a man in the last stage of +exhaustion, and it was evident that he would drop asleep as soon +as he got into his sledge. + +"Your Excellency," he said languidly to Krylin, stopping in the +middle of the staircase, "has it ever happened to you to experience +a feeling as though some unseen force were drawing you out longer +and longer? You are drawn out and turn into the finest wire. +Subjectively this finds expression in a curious voluptuous feeling +which is impossible to compare with anything." + +Anna Akimovna, standing at the top of the stairs, saw each of them +give Mishenka a note. + +"Good-bye! Come again!" she called to them, and ran into her bedroom. + +She quickly threw off her dress, that she was weary of already, put +on a dressing-gown, and ran downstairs; and as she ran downstairs +she laughed and thumped with her feet like a school-boy; she had a +great desire for mischief. + +IV + +Evening + +Auntie, in a loose print blouse, Varvarushka and two old women, +were sitting in the dining-room having supper. A big piece of salt +meat, a ham, and various savouries, were lying on the table before +them, and clouds of steam were rising from the meat, which looked +particularly fat and appetizing. Wine was not served on the lower +story, but they made up for it with a great number of spirits and +home-made liqueurs. Agafyushka, the fat, white-skinned, well-fed +cook, was standing with her arms crossed in the doorway and talking +to the old women, and the dishes were being handed by the downstairs +Masha, a dark girl with a crimson ribbon in her hair. The old women +had had enough to eat before the morning was over, and an hour +before supper had had tea and buns, and so they were now eating +with effort--as it were, from a sense of duty. + +"Oh, my girl!" sighed Auntie, as Anna Akimovna ran into the dining-room +and sat down beside her. "You've frightened me to death!" + +Every one in the house was pleased when Anna Akimovna was in good +spirits and played pranks; this always reminded them that the old +men were dead and that the old women had no authority in the house, +and any one could do as he liked without any fear of being sharply +called to account for it. Only the two old women glanced askance +at Anna Akimovna with amazement: she was humming, and it was a sin +to sing at table. + +"Our mistress, our beauty, our picture," Agafyushka began chanting +with sugary sweetness. "Our precious jewel! The people, the people +that have come to-day to look at our queen. Lord have mercy upon +us! Generals, and officers and gentlemen. . . . I kept looking out +of window and counting and counting till I gave it up." + +"I'd as soon they did not come at all," said Auntie; she looked +sadly at her niece and added: "They only waste the time for my poor +orphan girl." + +Anna Akimovna felt hungry, as she had eaten nothing since the +morning. They poured her out some very bitter liqueur; she drank +it off, and tasted the salt meat with mustard, and thought it +extraordinarily nice. Then the downstairs Masha brought in the +turkey, the pickled apples and the gooseberries. And that pleased +her, too. There was only one thing that was disagreeable: there was +a draught of hot air from the tiled stove; it was stiflingly close +and every one's cheeks were burning. After supper the cloth was +taken off and plates of peppermint biscuits, walnuts, and raisins +were brought in. + +"You sit down, too . . . no need to stand there!" said Auntie to +the cook. + +Agafyushka sighed and sat down to the table; Masha set a wineglass +of liqueur before her, too, and Anna Akimovna began to feel as +though Agafyushka's white neck were giving out heat like the stove. +They were all talking of how difficult it was nowadays to get +married, and saying that in old days, if men did not court beauty, +they paid attention to money, but now there was no making out what +they wanted; and while hunchbacks and cripples used to be left old +maids, nowadays men would not have even the beautiful and wealthy. +Auntie began to set this down to immorality, and said that people +had no fear of God, but she suddenly remembered that Ivan Ivanitch, +her brother, and Varvarushka--both people of holy life--had +feared God, but all the same had had children on the sly, and had +sent them to the Foundling Asylum. She pulled herself up and changed +the conversation, telling them about a suitor she had once had, a +factory hand, and how she had loved him, but her brothers had forced +her to marry a widower, an ikon-painter, who, thank God, had died +two years after. The downstairs Masha sat down to the table, too, +and told them with a mysterious air that for the last week some +unknown man with a black moustache, in a great-coat with an astrachan +collar, had made his appearance every morning in the yard, had +stared at the windows of the big house, and had gone on further-- +to the buildings; the man was all right, nice-looking. + +All this conversation made Anna Akimovna suddenly long to be married +--long intensely, painfully; she felt as though she would give +half her life and all her fortune only to know that upstairs there +was a man who was closer to her than any one in the world, that he +loved her warmly and was missing her; and the thought of such +closeness, ecstatic and inexpressible in words, troubled her soul. +And the instinct of youth and health flattered her with lying +assurances that the real poetry of life was not over but still to +come, and she believed it, and leaning back in her chair (her hair +fell down as she did so), she began laughing, and, looking at her, +the others laughed, too. And it was a long time before this causeless +laughter died down in the dining-room. + +She was informed that the Stinging Beetle had come. This was a +pilgrim woman called Pasha or Spiridonovna--a thin little woman +of fifty, in a black dress with a white kerchief, with keen eyes, +sharp nose, and a sharp chin; she had sly, viperish eyes and she +looked as though she could see right through every one. Her lips +were shaped like a heart. Her viperishness and hostility to every +one had earned her the nickname of the Stinging Beetle. + +Going into the dining-room without looking at any one, she made for +the ikons and chanted in a high voice "Thy Holy Birth," then she +sang "The Virgin today gives birth to the Son," then "Christ is +born," then she turned round and bent a piercing gaze upon all of +them. + +"A happy Christmas," she said, and she kissed Anna Akimovna on the +shoulder. "It's all I could do, all I could do to get to you, my +kind friends." She kissed Auntie on the shoulder. "I should have +come to you this morning, but I went in to some good people to rest +on the way. 'Stay, Spiridonovna, stay,' they said, and I did not +notice that evening was coming on." + +As she did not eat meat, they gave her salmon and caviare. She ate +looking from under her eyelids at the company, and drank three +glasses of vodka. When she had finished she said a prayer and bowed +down to Anna Akimovna's feet. + +They began to play a game of "kings," as they had done the year +before, and the year before that, and all the servants in both +stories crowded in at the doors to watch the game. Anna Akimovna +fancied she caught a glimpse once or twice of Mishenka, with a +patronizing smile on his face, among the crowd of peasant men and +women. The first to be king was Stinging Beetle, and Anna Akimovna +as the soldier paid her tribute; and then Auntie was king and Anna +Akimovna was peasant, which excited general delight, and Agafyushka +was prince, and was quite abashed with pleasure. Another game was +got up at the other end of the table--played by the two Mashas, +Varvarushka, and the sewing-maid Marfa Ptrovna, who was waked on +purpose to play "kings," and whose face looked cross and sleepy. + +While they were playing they talked of men, and of how difficult +it was to get a good husband nowadays, and which state was to be +preferred--that of an old maid or a widow. + +"You are a handsome, healthy, sturdy lass," said Stinging Beetle +to Anna Akimovna. "But I can't make out for whose sake you are +holding back." + +"What's to be done if nobody will have me?" + +"Or maybe you have taken a vow to remain a maid?" Stinging Beetle +went on, as though she did not hear. "Well, that's a good deed. . . . +Remain one," she repeated, looking intently and maliciously at +her cards. "All right, my dear, remain one. . . . Yes . . . only +maids, these saintly maids, are not all alike." She heaved a sigh +and played the king. "Oh, no, my girl, they are not all alike! Some +really watch over themselves like nuns, and butter would not melt +in their mouths; and if such a one does sin in an hour of weakness, +she is worried to death, poor thing! so it would be a sin to condemn +her. While others will go dressed in black and sew their shroud, +and yet love rich old men on the sly. Yes, y-es, my canary birds, +some hussies will bewitch an old man and rule over him, my doves, +rule over him and turn his head; and when they've saved up money +and lottery tickets enough, they will bewitch him to his death." + +Varvarushka's only response to these hints was to heave a sigh and +look towards the ikons. There was an expression of Christian meekness +on her countenance. + +"I know a maid like that, my bitterest enemy," Stinging Beetle went +on, looking round at every one in triumph; "she is always sighing, +too, and looking at the ikons, the she-devil. When she used to rule +in a certain old man's house, if one went to her she would give one +a crust, and bid one bow down to the ikons while she would sing: +'In conception Thou dost abide a Virgin . . . !' On holidays she +will give one a bite, and on working days she will reproach one for +it. But nowadays I will make merry over her! I will make as merry +as I please, my jewel." + +Varvarushka glanced at the ikons again and crossed herself. + +"But no one will have me, Spiridonovna," said Anna Akimovna to +change the conversation. "What's to be done?" + +"It's your own fault. You keep waiting for highly educated gentlemen, +but you ought to marry one of your own sort, a merchant." + +"We don't want a merchant," said Auntie, all in a flutter. "Queen +of Heaven, preserve us! A gentleman will spend your money, but then +he will be kind to you, you poor little fool. But a merchant will +be so strict that you won't feel at home in your own house. You'll +be wanting to fondle him and he will be counting his money, and +when you sit down to meals with him, he'll grudge you every mouthful, +though it's your own, the lout! . . . Marry a gentleman." + +They all talked at once, loudly interrupting one another, and Auntie +tapped on the table with the nutcrackers and said, flushed and +angry: + +"We won't have a merchant; we won't have one! If you choose a +merchant I shall go to an almshouse." + +"Sh . . . Sh! . . . Hush!" cried Stinging Beetle; when all were +silent she screwed up one eye and said: "Do you know what, Annushka, +my birdie . . . ? There is no need for you to get married really +like every one else. You're rich and free, you are your own mistress; +but yet, my child, it doesn't seem the right thing for you to be +an old maid. I'll find you, you know, some trumpery and simple-witted +man. You'll marry him for appearances and then have your fling, +bonny lass! You can hand him five thousand or ten maybe, and pack +him off where he came from, and you will be mistress in your own +house--you can love whom you like and no one can say anything to +you. And then you can love your highly educated gentleman. You'll +have a jolly time!" Stinging Beetle snapped her fingers and gave a +whistle. + +"It's sinful," said Auntie. + +"Oh, sinful," laughed Stinging Beetle. "She is educated, she +understands. To cut some one's throat or bewitch an old man-- +that's a sin, that's true; but to love some charming young friend +is not a sin at all. And what is there in it, really? There's no +sin in it at all! The old pilgrim women have invented all that to +make fools of simple folk. I, too, say everywhere it's a sin; I +don't know myself why it's a sin." Stinging Beetle emptied her glass +and cleared her throat. "Have your fling, bonny lass," this time +evidently addressing herself. "For thirty years, wenches, I have +thought of nothing but sins and been afraid, but now I see I have +wasted my time, I've let it slip by like a ninny! Ah, I have been +a fool, a fool!" She sighed. "A woman's time is short and every day +is precious. You are handsome, Annushka, and very rich; but as soon +as thirty-five or forty strikes for you your time is up. Don't +listen to any one, my girl; live, have your fling till you are +forty, and then you will have time to pray forgiveness--there +will be plenty of time to bow down and to sew your shroud. A candle +to God and a poker to the devil! You can do both at once! Well, how +is it to be? Will you make some little man happy?" + +"I will," laughed Anna Akimovna. "I don't care now; I would marry +a working man." + +"Well, that would do all right! Oh, what a fine fellow you would +choose then!" Stinging Beetle screwed up her eyes and shook her +head. "O--o--oh!" + +"I tell her myself," said Auntie, "it's no good waiting for a +gentleman, so she had better marry, not a gentleman, but some one +humbler; anyway we should have a man in the house to look after +things. And there are lots of good men. She might have some one out +of the factory. They are all sober, steady men. . . ." + +"I should think so," Stinging Beetle agreed. "They are capital +fellows. If you like, Aunt, I will make a match for her with Vassily +Lebedinsky?" + +"Oh, Vasya's legs are so long," said Auntie seriously. "He is so +lanky. He has no looks." + +There was laughter in the crowd by the door. + +"Well, Pimenov? Would you like to marry Pimenov?" Stinging Beetle +asked Anna Akimovna. + +"Very good. Make a match for me with Pimenov." + +"Really?" + +"Yes, do!" Anna Akimovna said resolutely, and she struck her fist +on the table. "On my honour, I will marry him." + +"Really?" + +Anna Akimovna suddenly felt ashamed that her cheeks were burning +and that every one was looking at her; she flung the cards together +on the table and ran out of the room. As she ran up the stairs and, +reaching the upper story, sat down to the piano in the drawing-room, +a murmur of sound reached her from below like the roar of the sea; +most likely they were talking of her and of Pimenov, and perhaps +Stinging Beetle was taking advantage of her absence to insult +Varvarushka and was putting no check on her language. + +The lamp in the big room was the only light burning in the upper +story, and it sent a glimmer through the door into the dark +drawing-room. It was between nine and ten, not later. Anna Akimovna +played a waltz, then another, then a third; she went on playing +without stopping. She looked into the dark corner beyond the piano, +smiled, and inwardly called to it, and the idea occurred to her +that she might drive off to the town to see some one, Lysevitch for +instance, and tell him what was passing in her heart. She wanted +to talk without ceasing, to laugh, to play the fool, but the dark +corner was sullenly silent, and all round in all the rooms of the +upper story it was still and desolate. + +She was fond of sentimental songs, but she had a harsh, untrained +voice, and so she only played the accompaniment and sang hardly +audibly, just above her breath. She sang in a whisper one song after +another, for the most part about love, separation, and frustrated +hopes, and she imagined how she would hold out her hands to him and +say with entreaty, with tears, "Pimenov, take this burden from me!" +And then, just as though her sins had been forgiven, there would +be joy and comfort in her soul, and perhaps a free, happy life would +begin. In an anguish of anticipation she leant over the keys, with +a passionate longing for the change in her life to come at once +without delay, and was terrified at the thought that her old life +would go on for some time longer. Then she played again and sang +hardly above her breath, and all was stillness about her. There was +no noise coming from downstairs now, they must have gone to bed. +It had struck ten some time before. A long, solitary, wearisome +night was approaching. + +Anna Akimovna walked through all the rooms, lay down for a while +on the sofa, and read in her study the letters that had come that +evening; there were twelve letters of Christmas greetings and three +anonymous letters. In one of them some workman complained in a +horrible, almost illegible handwriting that Lenten oil sold in the +factory shop was rancid and smelt of paraffin; in another, some one +respectfully informed her that over a purchase of iron Nazaritch +had lately taken a bribe of a thousand roubles from some one; in a +third she was abused for her inhumanity. + +The excitement of Christmas was passing off, and to keep it up Anna +Akimovna sat down at the piano again and softly played one of the +new waltzes, then she remembered how cleverly and creditably she +had spoken at dinner today. She looked round at the dark windows, +at the walls with the pictures, at the faint light that came from +the big room, and all at once she began suddenly crying, and she +felt vexed that she was so lonely, and that she had no one to talk +to and consult. To cheer herself she tried to picture Pimenov in +her imagination, but it was unsuccessful. + +It struck twelve. Mishenka, no longer wearing his swallow-tail but +in his reefer jacket, came in, and without speaking lighted two +candles; then he went out and returned a minute later with a cup +of tea on a tray. + +"What are you laughing at?" she asked, noticing a smile on his face. + +"I was downstairs and heard the jokes you were making about Pimenov +. . ." he said, and put his hand before his laughing mouth. "If he +were sat down to dinner today with Viktor Nikolaevitch and the +general, he'd have died of fright." Mishenka's shoulders were shaking +with laughter. "He doesn't know even how to hold his fork, I bet." + +The footman's laughter and words, his reefer jacket and moustache, +gave Anna Akimovna a feeling of uncleanness. She shut her eyes to +avoid seeing him, and, against her own will, imagined Pimenov dining +with Lysevitch and Krylin, and his timid, unintellectual figure +seemed to her pitiful and helpless, and she felt repelled by it. +And only now, for the first time in the whole day, she realized +clearly that all she had said and thought about Pimenov and marrying +a workman was nonsense, folly, and wilfulness. To convince herself +of the opposite, to overcome her repulsion, she tried to recall +what she had said at dinner, but now she could not see anything in +it: shame at her own thoughts and actions, and the fear that she +had said something improper during the day, and disgust at her own +lack of spirit, overwhelmed her completely. She took up a candle +and, as rapidly as if some one were pursuing her, ran downstairs, +woke Spiridonovna, and began assuring her she had been joking. Then +she went to her bedroom. Red-haired Masha, who was dozing in an +arm-chair near the bed, jumped up and began shaking up the pillows. +Her face was exhausted and sleepy, and her magnificent hair had +fallen on one side. + +"Tchalikov came again this evening," she said, yawning, "but I did +not dare to announce him; he was very drunk. He says he will come +again tomorrow." + +"What does he want with me?" said Anna Akimovna, and she flung her +comb on the floor. "I won't see him, I won't." + +She made up her mind she had no one left in life but this Tchalikov, +that he would never leave off persecuting her, and would remind her +every day how uninteresting and absurd her life was. So all she was +fit for was to help the poor. Oh, how stupid it was! + +She lay down without undressing, and sobbed with shame and depression: +what seemed to her most vexatious and stupid of all was that her +dreams that day about Pimenov had been right, lofty, honourable, +but at the same time she felt that Lysevitch and even Krylin were +nearer to her than Pimenov and all the workpeople taken together. +She thought that if the long day she had just spent could have been +represented in a picture, all that had been bad and vulgar--as, +for instance, the dinner, the lawyer's talk, the game of "kings" +--would have been true, while her dreams and talk about Pimenov +would have stood out from the whole as something false, as out of +drawing; and she thought, too, that it was too late to dream of +happiness, that everything was over for her, and it was impossible +to go back to the life when she had slept under the same quilt with +her mother, or to devise some new special sort of life. + +Red-haired Masha was kneeling before the bed, gazing at her in +mournful perplexity; then she, too, began crying, and laid her face +against her mistress's arm, and without words it was clear why she +was so wretched. + +"We are fools!" said Anna Akimovna, laughing and crying. "We are +fools! Oh, what fools we are!" + + +A PROBLEM + +THE strictest measures were taken that the Uskovs' family secret +might not leak out and become generally known. Half of the servants +were sent off to the theatre or the circus; the other half were +sitting in the kitchen and not allowed to leave it. Orders were +given that no one was to be admitted. The wife of the Colonel, her +sister, and the governess, though they had been initiated into the +secret, kept up a pretence of knowing nothing; they sat in the +dining-room and did not show themselves in the drawing-room or the +hall. + +Sasha Uskov, the young man of twenty-five who was the cause of all +the commotion, had arrived some time before, and by the advice of +kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch, his uncle, who was taking his part, +he sat meekly in the hall by the door leading to the study, and +prepared himself to make an open, candid explanation. + +The other side of the door, in the study, a family council was being +held. The subject under discussion was an exceedingly disagreeable +and delicate one. Sasha Uskov had cashed at one of the banks a false +promissory note, and it had become due for payment three days before, +and now his two paternal uncles and Ivan Markovitch, the brother +of his dead mother, were deciding the question whether they should +pay the money and save the family honour, or wash their hands of +it and leave the case to go for trial. + +To outsiders who have no personal interest in the matter such +questions seem simple; for those who are so unfortunate as to have +to decide them in earnest they are extremely difficult. The uncles +had been talking for a long time, but the problem seemed no nearer +decision. + +"My friends!" said the uncle who was a colonel, and there was a +note of exhaustion and bitterness in his voice. "Who says that +family honour is a mere convention? I don't say that at all. I am +only warning you against a false view; I am pointing out the +possibility of an unpardonable mistake. How can you fail to see it? +I am not speaking Chinese; I am speaking Russian!" + +"My dear fellow, we do understand," Ivan Markovitch protested mildly. + +"How can you understand if you say that I don't believe in family +honour? I repeat once more: fa-mil-y ho-nour fal-sely un-der-stood +is a prejudice! Falsely understood! That's what I say: whatever may +be the motives for screening a scoundrel, whoever he may be, and +helping him to escape punishment, it is contrary to law and unworthy +of a gentleman. It's not saving the family honour; it's civic +cowardice! Take the army, for instance. . . . The honour of the +army is more precious to us than any other honour, yet we don't +screen our guilty members, but condemn them. And does the honour +of the army suffer in consequence? Quite the opposite!" + +The other paternal uncle, an official in the Treasury, a taciturn, +dull-witted, and rheumatic man, sat silent, or spoke only of the +fact that the Uskovs' name would get into the newspapers if the +case went for trial. His opinion was that the case ought to be +hushed up from the first and not become public property; but, apart +from publicity in the newspapers, he advanced no other argument in +support of this opinion. + +The maternal uncle, kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch, spoke smoothly, +softly, and with a tremor in his voice. He began with saying that +youth has its rights and its peculiar temptations. Which of us has +not been young, and who has not been led astray? To say nothing of +ordinary mortals, even great men have not escaped errors and mistakes +in their youth. Take, for instance, the biography of great writers. +Did not every one of them gamble, drink, and draw down upon himself +the anger of right-thinking people in his young days? If Sasha's +error bordered upon crime, they must remember that Sasha had received +practically no education; he had been expelled from the high school +in the fifth class; he had lost his parents in early childhood, and +so had been left at the tenderest age without guidance and good, +benevolent influences. He was nervous, excitable, had no firm ground +under his feet, and, above all, he had been unlucky. Even if he +were guilty, anyway he deserved indulgence and the sympathy of all +compassionate souls. He ought, of course, to be punished, but he +was punished as it was by his conscience and the agonies he was +enduring now while awaiting the sentence of his relations. The +comparison with the army made by the Colonel was delightful, and +did credit to his lofty intelligence; his appeal to their feeling +of public duty spoke for the chivalry of his soul, but they must +not forget that in each individual the citizen is closely linked +with the Christian. . . . + +"Shall we be false to civic duty," Ivan Markovitch exclaimed +passionately, "if instead of punishing an erring boy we hold out +to him a helping hand?" + +Ivan Markovitch talked further of family honour. He had not the +honour to belong to the Uskov family himself, but he knew their +distinguished family went back to the thirteenth century; he did +not forget for a minute, either, that his precious, beloved sister +had been the wife of one of the representatives of that name. In +short, the family was dear to him for many reasons, and he refused +to admit the idea that, for the sake of a paltry fifteen hundred +roubles, a blot should be cast on the escutcheon that was beyond +all price. If all the motives he had brought forward were not +sufficiently convincing, he, Ivan Markovitch, in conclusion, begged +his listeners to ask themselves what was meant by crime? Crime is +an immoral act founded upon ill-will. But is the will of man free? +Philosophy has not yet given a positive answer to that question. +Different views were held by the learned. The latest school of +Lombroso, for instance, denies the freedom of the will, and considers +every crime as the product of the purely anatomical peculiarities +of the individual. + +"Ivan Markovitch," said the Colonel, in a voice of entreaty, "we +are talking seriously about an important matter, and you bring in +Lombroso, you clever fellow. Think a little, what are you saying +all this for? Can you imagine that all your thunderings and rhetoric +will furnish an answer to the question?" + +Sasha Uskov sat at the door and listened. He felt neither terror, +shame, nor depression, but only weariness and inward emptiness. It +seemed to him that it made absolutely no difference to him whether +they forgave him or not; he had come here to hear his sentence and +to explain himself simply because kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch had +begged him to do so. He was not afraid of the future. It made no +difference to him where he was: here in the hall, in prison, or in +Siberia. + +"If Siberia, then let it be Siberia, damn it all!" + +He was sick of life and found it insufferably hard. He was inextricably +involved in debt; he had not a farthing in his pocket; his family +had become detestable to him; he would have to part from his friends +and his women sooner or later, as they had begun to be too contemptuous +of his sponging on them. The future looked black. + +Sasha was indifferent, and was only disturbed by one circumstance; +the other side of the door they were calling him a scoundrel and a +criminal. Every minute he was on the point of jumping up, bursting +into the study and shouting in answer to the detestable metallic +voice of the Colonel: + +"You are lying!" + +"Criminal" is a dreadful word--that is what murderers, thieves, +robbers are; in fact, wicked and morally hopeless people. And Sasha +was very far from being all that. . . . It was true he owed a great +deal and did not pay his debts. But debt is not a crime, and it is +unusual for a man not to be in debt. The Colonel and Ivan Markovitch +were both in debt. . . . + +"What have I done wrong besides?" Sasha wondered. + +He had discounted a forged note. But all the young men he knew did +the same. Handrikov and Von Burst always forged IOU's from their +parents or friends when their allowances were not paid at the regular +time, and then when they got their money from home they redeemed +them before they became due. Sasha had done the same, but had not +redeemed the IOU because he had not got the money which Handrikov +had promised to lend him. He was not to blame; it was the fault of +circumstances. It was true that the use of another person's signature +was considered reprehensible; but, still, it was not a crime but a +generally accepted dodge, an ugly formality which injured no one +and was quite harmless, for in forging the Colonel's signature Sasha +had had no intention of causing anybody damage or loss. + +"No, it doesn't mean that I am a criminal . . ." thought Sasha. +"And it's not in my character to bring myself to commit a crime. I +am soft, emotional. . . . When I have the money I help the poor. . . ." + +Sasha was musing after this fashion while they went on talking the +other side of the door. + +"But, my friends, this is endless," the Colonel declared, getting +excited. "Suppose we were to forgive him and pay the money. You +know he would not give up leading a dissipated life, squandering +money, making debts, going to our tailors and ordering suits in our +names! Can you guarantee that this will be his last prank? As far +as I am concerned, I have no faith whatever in his reforming!" + +The official of the Treasury muttered something in reply; after him +Ivan Markovitch began talking blandly and suavely again. The Colonel +moved his chair impatiently and drowned the other's words with his +detestable metallic voice. At last the door opened and Ivan Markovitch +came out of the study; there were patches of red on his lean shaven +face. + +"Come along," he said, taking Sasha by the hand. "Come and speak +frankly from your heart. Without pride, my dear boy, humbly and +from your heart." + +Sasha went into the study. The official of the Treasury was sitting +down; the Colonel was standing before the table with one hand in +his pocket and one knee on a chair. It was smoky and stifling in +the study. Sasha did not look at the official or the Colonel; he +felt suddenly ashamed and uncomfortable. He looked uneasily at Ivan +Markovitch and muttered: + +"I'll pay it . . . I'll give it back. . . ." + +"What did you expect when you discounted the IOU?" he heard a +metallic voice. + +"I . . . Handrikov promised to lend me the money before now." + +Sasha could say no more. He went out of the study and sat down again +on the chair near the door. + +He would have been glad to go away altogether at once, but he was +choking with hatred and he awfully wanted to remain, to tear the +Colonel to pieces, to say something rude to him. He sat trying to +think of something violent and effective to say to his hated uncle, +and at that moment a woman's figure, shrouded in the twilight, +appeared at the drawing-room door. It was the Colonel's wife. She +beckoned Sasha to her, and, wringing her hands, said, weeping: + +"_Alexandre_, I know you don't like me, but . . . listen to me; +listen, I beg you. . . . But, my dear, how can this have happened? +Why, it's awful, awful! For goodness' sake, beg them, defend yourself, +entreat them." + +Sasha looked at her quivering shoulders, at the big tears that were +rolling down her cheeks, heard behind his back the hollow, nervous +voices of worried and exhausted people, and shrugged his shoulders. +He had not in the least expected that his aristocratic relations +would raise such a tempest over a paltry fifteen hundred roubles! +He could not understand her tears nor the quiver of their voices. + +An hour later he heard that the Colonel was getting the best of it; +the uncles were finally inclining to let the case go for trial. + +"The matter's settled," said the Colonel, sighing. "Enough." + +After this decision all the uncles, even the emphatic Colonel, +became noticeably depressed. A silence followed. + +"Merciful Heavens!" sighed Ivan Markovitch. "My poor sister!" + +And he began saying in a subdued voice that most likely his sister, +Sasha's mother, was present unseen in the study at that moment. He +felt in his soul how the unhappy, saintly woman was weeping, grieving, +and begging for her boy. For the sake of her peace beyond the grave, +they ought to spare Sasha. + +The sound of a muffled sob was heard. Ivan Markovitch was weeping +and muttering something which it was impossible to catch through +the door. The Colonel got up and paced from corner to corner. The +long conversation began over again. + +But then the clock in the drawing-room struck two. The family council +was over. To avoid seeing the person who had moved him to such +wrath, the Colonel went from the study, not into the hall, but into +the vestibule. . . . Ivan Markovitch came out into the hall. . . . +He was agitated and rubbing his hands joyfully. His tear-stained +eyes looked good-humoured and his mouth was twisted into a smile. + +"Capital," he said to Sasha. "Thank God! You can go home, my dear, +and sleep tranquilly. We have decided to pay the sum, but on condition +that you repent and come with me tomorrow into the country and set +to work." + +A minute later Ivan Markovitch and Sasha in their great-coats and +caps were going down the stairs. The uncle was muttering something +edifying. Sasha did not listen, but felt as though some uneasy +weight were gradually slipping off his shoulders. They had forgiven +him; he was free! A gust of joy sprang up within him and sent a +sweet chill to his heart. He longed to breathe, to move swiftly, +to live! Glancing at the street lamps and the black sky, he remembered +that Von Burst was celebrating his name-day that evening at the +"Bear," and again a rush of joy flooded his soul. . . . + +"I am going!" he decided. + +But then he remembered he had not a farthing, that the companions +he was going to would despise him at once for his empty pockets. +He must get hold of some money, come what may! + +"Uncle, lend me a hundred roubles," he said to Ivan Markovitch. + +His uncle, surprised, looked into his face and backed against a +lamp-post. + +"Give it to me," said Sasha, shifting impatiently from one foot to +the other and beginning to pant. "Uncle, I entreat you, give me a +hundred roubles." + +His face worked; he trembled, and seemed on the point of attacking +his uncle. . . . + +"Won't you?" he kept asking, seeing that his uncle was still amazed +and did not understand. "Listen. If you don't, I'll give myself up +tomorrow! I won't let you pay the IOU! I'll present another false +note tomorrow!" + +Petrified, muttering something incoherent in his horror, Ivan +Markovitch took a hundred-rouble note out of his pocket-book and +gave it to Sasha. The young man took it and walked rapidly away +from him. . . . + +Taking a sledge, Sasha grew calmer, and felt a rush of joy within +him again. The "rights of youth" of which kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch +had spoken at the family council woke up and asserted themselves. +Sasha pictured the drinking-party before him, and, among the bottles, +the women, and his friends, the thought flashed through his mind: + +"Now I see that I am a criminal; yes, I am a criminal." + + +THE KISS + +AT eight o'clock on the evening of the twentieth of May all the six +batteries of the N---- Reserve Artillery Brigade halted for the +night in the village of Myestetchki on their way to camp. When the +general commotion was at its height, while some officers were busily +occupied around the guns, while others, gathered together in the +square near the church enclosure, were listening to the quartermasters, +a man in civilian dress, riding a strange horse, came into sight +round the church. The little dun-coloured horse with a good neck +and a short tail came, moving not straight forward, but as it were +sideways, with a sort of dance step, as though it were being lashed +about the legs. When he reached the officers the man on the horse +took off his hat and said: + +"His Excellency Lieutenant-General von Rabbek invites the gentlemen +to drink tea with him this minute. . . ." + +The horse turned, danced, and retired sideways; the messenger raised +his hat once more, and in an instant disappeared with his strange +horse behind the church. + +"What the devil does it mean?" grumbled some of the officers, +dispersing to their quarters. "One is sleepy, and here this Von +Rabbek with his tea! We know what tea means." + +The officers of all the six batteries remembered vividly an incident +of the previous year, when during manoeuvres they, together with +the officers of a Cossack regiment, were in the same way invited +to tea by a count who had an estate in the neighbourhood and was a +retired army officer: the hospitable and genial count made much of +them, fed them, and gave them drink, refused to let them go to their +quarters in the village and made them stay the night. All that, of +course, was very nice--nothing better could be desired, but the +worst of it was, the old army officer was so carried away by the +pleasure of the young men's company that till sunrise he was telling +the officers anecdotes of his glorious past, taking them over the +house, showing them expensive pictures, old engravings, rare guns, +reading them autograph letters from great people, while the weary +and exhausted officers looked and listened, longing for their beds +and yawning in their sleeves; when at last their host let them go, +it was too late for sleep. + +Might not this Von Rabbek be just such another? Whether he were or +not, there was no help for it. The officers changed their uniforms, +brushed themselves, and went all together in search of the gentleman's +house. In the square by the church they were told they could get +to His Excellency's by the lower path--going down behind the +church to the river, going along the bank to the garden, and there +an avenue would taken them to the house; or by the upper way-- +straight from the church by the road which, half a mile from the +village, led right up to His Excellency's granaries. The officers +decided to go by the upper way. + +"What Von Rabbek is it?" they wondered on the way. "Surely not the +one who was in command of the N---- cavalry division at Plevna?" + +"No, that was not Von Rabbek, but simply Rabbe and no 'von.'" + +"What lovely weather!" + +At the first of the granaries the road divided in two: one branch +went straight on and vanished in the evening darkness, the other +led to the owner's house on the right. The officers turned to the +right and began to speak more softly. . . . On both sides of the +road stretched stone granaries with red roofs, heavy and sullen-looking, +very much like barracks of a district town. Ahead of them gleamed +the windows of the manor-house. + +"A good omen, gentlemen," said one of the officers. "Our setter is +the foremost of all; no doubt he scents game ahead of us! . . ." + +Lieutenant Lobytko, who was walking in front, a tall and stalwart +fellow, though entirely without moustache (he was over five-and-twenty, +yet for some reason there was no sign of hair on his round, well-fed +face), renowned in the brigade for his peculiar faculty for divining +the presence of women at a distance, turned round and said: + +"Yes, there must be women here; I feel that by instinct." + +On the threshold the officers were met by Von Rabbek himself, a +comely-looking man of sixty in civilian dress. Shaking hands with +his guests, he said that he was very glad and happy to see them, +but begged them earnestly for God's sake to excuse him for not +asking them to stay the night; two sisters with their children, +some brothers, and some neighbours, had come on a visit to him, so +that he had not one spare room left. + +The General shook hands with every one, made his apologies, and +smiled, but it was evident by his face that he was by no means so +delighted as their last year's count, and that he had invited the +officers simply because, in his opinion, it was a social obligation +to do so. And the officers themselves, as they walked up the softly +carpeted stairs, as they listened to him, felt that they had been +invited to this house simply because it would have been awkward not +to invite them; and at the sight of the footmen, who hastened to +light the lamps in the entrance below and in the anteroom above, +they began to feel as though they had brought uneasiness and +discomfort into the house with them. In a house in which two sisters +and their children, brothers, and neighbours were gathered together, +probably on account of some family festivity, or event, how could +the presence of nineteen unknown officers possibly be welcome? + +At the entrance to the drawing-room the officers were met by a tall, +graceful old lady with black eyebrows and a long face, very much +like the Empress Eugenie. Smiling graciously and majestically, she +said she was glad and happy to see her guests, and apologized that +her husband and she were on this occasion unable to invite _messieurs +les officiers_ to stay the night. From her beautiful majestic smile, +which instantly vanished from her face every time she turned away +from her guests, it was evident that she had seen numbers of officers +in her day, that she was in no humour for them now, and if she +invited them to her house and apologized for not doing more, it was +only because her breeding and position in society required it of +her. + +When the officers went into the big dining-room, there were about +a dozen people, men and ladies, young and old, sitting at tea at +the end of a long table. A group of men was dimly visible behind +their chairs, wrapped in a haze of cigar smoke; and in the midst +of them stood a lanky young man with red whiskers, talking loudly, +with a lisp, in English. Through a door beyond the group could be +seen a light room with pale blue furniture. + +"Gentlemen, there are so many of you that it is impossible to +introduce you all!" said the General in a loud voice, trying to +sound very cheerful. "Make each other's acquaintance, gentlemen, +without any ceremony!" + +The officers--some with very serious and even stern faces, others +with forced smiles, and all feeling extremely awkward--somehow +made their bows and sat down to tea. + +The most ill at ease of them all was Ryabovitch--a little officer +in spectacles, with sloping shoulders, and whiskers like a lynx's. +While some of his comrades assumed a serious expression, while +others wore forced smiles, his face, his lynx-like whiskers, and +spectacles seemed to say: "I am the shyest, most modest, and most +undistinguished officer in the whole brigade!" At first, on going +into the room and sitting down to the table, he could not fix his +attention on any one face or object. The faces, the dresses, the +cut-glass decanters of brandy, the steam from the glasses, the +moulded cornices--all blended in one general impression that +inspired in Ryabovitch alarm and a desire to hide his head. Like a +lecturer making his first appearance before the public, he saw +everything that was before his eyes, but apparently only had a dim +understanding of it (among physiologists this condition, when the +subject sees but does not understand, is called psychical blindness). +After a little while, growing accustomed to his surroundings, +Ryabovitch saw clearly and began to observe. As a shy man, unused +to society, what struck him first was that in which he had always +been deficient--namely, the extraordinary boldness of his new +acquaintances. Von Rabbek, his wife, two elderly ladies, a young +lady in a lilac dress, and the young man with the red whiskers, who +was, it appeared, a younger son of Von Rabbek, very cleverly, as +though they had rehearsed it beforehand, took seats between the +officers, and at once got up a heated discussion in which the +visitors could not help taking part. The lilac young lady hotly +asserted that the artillery had a much better time than the cavalry +and the infantry, while Von Rabbek and the elderly ladies maintained +the opposite. A brisk interchange of talk followed. Ryabovitch +watched the lilac young lady who argued so hotly about what was +unfamiliar and utterly uninteresting to her, and watched artificial +smiles come and go on her face. + +Von Rabbek and his family skilfully drew the officers into the +discussion, and meanwhile kept a sharp lookout over their glasses +and mouths, to see whether all of them were drinking, whether all +had enough sugar, why some one was not eating cakes or not drinking +brandy. And the longer Ryabovitch watched and listened, the more +he was attracted by this insincere but splendidly disciplined family. + +After tea the officers went into the drawing-room. Lieutenant +Lobytko's instinct had not deceived him. There were a great number +of girls and young married ladies. The "setter" lieutenant was soon +standing by a very young, fair girl in a black dress, and, bending +down to her jauntily, as though leaning on an unseen sword, smiled +and shrugged his shoulders coquettishly. He probably talked very +interesting nonsense, for the fair girl looked at his well-fed face +condescendingly and asked indifferently, "Really?" And from that +uninterested "Really?" the setter, had he been intelligent, might +have concluded that she would never call him to heel. + +The piano struck up; the melancholy strains of a valse floated out +of the wide open windows, and every one, for some reason, remembered +that it was spring, a May evening. Every one was conscious of the +fragrance of roses, of lilac, and of the young leaves of the poplar. +Ryabovitch, in whom the brandy he had drunk made itself felt, under +the influence of the music stole a glance towards the window, smiled, +and began watching the movements of the women, and it seemed to him +that the smell of roses, of poplars, and lilac came not from the +garden, but from the ladies' faces and dresses. + +Von Rabbek's son invited a scraggy-looking young lady to dance, and +waltzed round the room twice with her. Lobytko, gliding over the +parquet floor, flew up to the lilac young lady and whirled her away. +Dancing began. . . . Ryabovitch stood near the door among those who +were not dancing and looked on. He had never once danced in his +whole life, and he had never once in his life put his arm round the +waist of a respectable woman. He was highly delighted that a man +should in the sight of all take a girl he did not know round the +waist and offer her his shoulder to put her hand on, but he could +not imagine himself in the position of such a man. There were times +when he envied the boldness and swagger of his companions and was +inwardly wretched; the consciousness that he was timid, that he was +round-shouldered and uninteresting, that he had a long waist and +lynx-like whiskers, had deeply mortified him, but with years he had +grown used to this feeling, and now, looking at his comrades dancing +or loudly talking, he no longer envied them, but only felt touched +and mournful. + +When the quadrille began, young Von Rabbek came up to those who +were not dancing and invited two officers to have a game at billiards. +The officers accepted and went with him out of the drawing-room. +Ryabovitch, having nothing to do and wishing to take part in the +general movement, slouched after them. From the big drawing-room +they went into the little drawing-room, then into a narrow corridor +with a glass roof, and thence into a room in which on their entrance +three sleepy-looking footmen jumped up quickly from the sofa. At +last, after passing through a long succession of rooms, young Von +Rabbek and the officers came into a small room where there was a +billiard-table. They began to play. + +Ryabovitch, who had never played any game but cards, stood near the +billiard-table and looked indifferently at the players, while they +in unbuttoned coats, with cues in their hands, stepped about, made +puns, and kept shouting out unintelligible words. + +The players took no notice of him, and only now and then one of +them, shoving him with his elbow or accidentally touching him with +the end of his cue, would turn round and say "Pardon!" Before the +first game was over he was weary of it, and began to feel he was +not wanted and in the way. . . . He felt disposed to return to the +drawing-room, and he went out. + +On his way back he met with a little adventure. When he had gone +half-way he noticed he had taken a wrong turning. He distinctly +remembered that he ought to meet three sleepy footmen on his way, +but he had passed five or six rooms, and those sleepy figures seemed +to have vanished into the earth. Noticing his mistake, he walked +back a little way and turned to the right; he found himself in a +little dark room which he had not seen on his way to the billiard-room. +After standing there a little while, he resolutely opened the first +door that met his eyes and walked into an absolutely dark room. +Straight in front could be seen the crack in the doorway through +which there was a gleam of vivid light; from the other side of the +door came the muffled sound of a melancholy mazurka. Here, too, as +in the drawing-room, the windows were wide open and there was a +smell of poplars, lilac and roses. . . . + +Ryabovitch stood still in hesitation. . . . At that moment, to his +surprise, he heard hurried footsteps and the rustling of a dress, +a breathless feminine voice whispered "At last!" And two soft, +fragrant, unmistakably feminine arms were clasped about his neck; +a warm cheek was pressed to his cheek, and simultaneously there was +the sound of a kiss. But at once the bestower of the kiss uttered +a faint shriek and skipped back from him, as it seemed to Ryabovitch, +with aversion. He, too, almost shrieked and rushed towards the gleam +of light at the door. . . . + +When he went back into the drawing-room his heart was beating and +his hands were trembling so noticeably that he made haste to hide +them behind his back. At first he was tormented by shame and dread +that the whole drawing-room knew that he had just been kissed and +embraced by a woman. He shrank into himself and looked uneasily +about him, but as he became convinced that people were dancing and +talking as calmly as ever, he gave himself up entirely to the new +sensation which he had never experienced before in his life. Something +strange was happening to him. . . . His neck, round which soft, +fragrant arms had so lately been clasped, seemed to him to be +anointed with oil; on his left cheek near his moustache where the +unknown had kissed him there was a faint chilly tingling sensation +as from peppermint drops, and the more he rubbed the place the more +distinct was the chilly sensation; all over, from head to foot, he +was full of a strange new feeling which grew stronger and stronger +. . . . He wanted to dance, to talk, to run into the garden, to laugh +aloud. . . . He quite forgot that he was round-shouldered and +uninteresting, that he had lynx-like whiskers and an "undistinguished +appearance" (that was how his appearance had been described by some +ladies whose conversation he had accidentally overheard). When Von +Rabbek's wife happened to pass by him, he gave her such a broad and +friendly smile that she stood still and looked at him inquiringly. + +"I like your house immensely!" he said, setting his spectacles +straight. + +The General's wife smiled and said that the house had belonged to +her father; then she asked whether his parents were living, whether +he had long been in the army, why he was so thin, and so on. . . . +After receiving answers to her questions, she went on, and after +his conversation with her his smiles were more friendly than ever, +and he thought he was surrounded by splendid people. . . . + +At supper Ryabovitch ate mechanically everything offered him, drank, +and without listening to anything, tried to understand what had +just happened to him. . . . The adventure was of a mysterious and +romantic character, but it was not difficult to explain it. No doubt +some girl or young married lady had arranged a tryst with some one +in the dark room; had waited a long time, and being nervous and +excited had taken Ryabovitch for her hero; this was the more probable +as Ryabovitch had stood still hesitating in the dark room, so that +he, too, had seemed like a person expecting something. . . . This +was how Ryabovitch explained to himself the kiss he had received. + +"And who is she?" he wondered, looking round at the women's faces. +"She must be young, for elderly ladies don't give rendezvous. That +she was a lady, one could tell by the rustle of her dress, her +perfume, her voice. . . ." + +His eyes rested on the lilac young lady, and he thought her very +attractive; she had beautiful shoulders and arms, a clever face, +and a delightful voice. Ryabovitch, looking at her, hoped that she +and no one else was his unknown. . . . But she laughed somehow +artificially and wrinkled up her long nose, which seemed to him to +make her look old. Then he turned his eyes upon the fair girl in a +black dress. She was younger, simpler, and more genuine, had a +charming brow, and drank very daintily out of her wineglass. +Ryabovitch now hoped that it was she. But soon he began to think +her face flat, and fixed his eyes upon the one next her. + +"It's difficult to guess," he thought, musing. "If one takes the +shoulders and arms of the lilac one only, adds the brow of the fair +one and the eyes of the one on the left of Lobytko, then . . ." + +He made a combination of these things in his mind and so formed the +image of the girl who had kissed him, the image that he wanted her +to have, but could not find at the table. . . . + +After supper, replete and exhilarated, the officers began to take +leave and say thank you. Von Rabbek and his wife began again +apologizing that they could not ask them to stay the night. + +"Very, very glad to have met you, gentlemen," said Von Rabbek, and +this time sincerely (probably because people are far more sincere +and good-humoured at speeding their parting guests than on meeting +them). "Delighted. I hope you will come on your way back! Don't +stand on ceremony! Where are you going? Do you want to go by the +upper way? No, go across the garden; it's nearer here by the lower +way." + +The officers went out into the garden. After the bright light and +the noise the garden seemed very dark and quiet. They walked in +silence all the way to the gate. They were a little drunk, pleased, +and in good spirits, but the darkness and silence made them thoughtful +for a minute. Probably the same idea occurred to each one of them +as to Ryabovitch: would there ever come a time for them when, like +Von Rabbek, they would have a large house, a family, a garden-- +when they, too, would be able to welcome people, even though +insincerely, feed them, make them drunk and contented? + +Going out of the garden gate, they all began talking at once and +laughing loudly about nothing. They were walking now along the +little path that led down to the river, and then ran along the +water's edge, winding round the bushes on the bank, the pools, and +the willows that overhung the water. The bank and the path were +scarcely visible, and the other bank was entirely plunged in darkness. +Stars were reflected here and there on the dark water; they quivered +and were broken up on the surface--and from that alone it could +be seen that the river was flowing rapidly. It was still. Drowsy +curlews cried plaintively on the further bank, and in one of the +bushes on the nearest side a nightingale was trilling loudly, taking +no notice of the crowd of officers. The officers stood round the +bush, touched it, but the nightingale went on singing. + +"What a fellow!" they exclaimed approvingly. "We stand beside him +and he takes not a bit of notice! What a rascal!" + +At the end of the way the path went uphill, and, skirting the church +enclosure, turned into the road. Here the officers, tired with +walking uphill, sat down and lighted their cigarettes. On the other +side of the river a murky red fire came into sight, and having +nothing better to do, they spent a long time in discussing whether +it was a camp fire or a light in a window, or something else. . . . +Ryabovitch, too, looked at the light, and he fancied that the +light looked and winked at him, as though it knew about the kiss. + +On reaching his quarters, Ryabovitch undressed as quickly as possible +and got into bed. Lobytko and Lieutenant Merzlyakov--a peaceable, +silent fellow, who was considered in his own circle a highly educated +officer, and was always, whenever it was possible, reading the +"Vyestnik Evropi," which he carried about with him everywhere-- +were quartered in the same hut with Ryabovitch. Lobytko undressed, +walked up and down the room for a long while with the air of a man +who has not been satisfied, and sent his orderly for beer. Merzlyakov +got into bed, put a candle by his pillow and plunged into reading +the "Vyestnik Evropi." + +"Who was she?" Ryabovitch wondered, looking at the smoky ceiling. + +His neck still felt as though he had been anointed with oil, and +there was still the chilly sensation near his mouth as though from +peppermint drops. The shoulders and arms of the young lady in lilac, +the brow and the truthful eyes of the fair girl in black, waists, +dresses, and brooches, floated through his imagination. He tried +to fix his attention on these images, but they danced about, broke +up and flickered. When these images vanished altogether from the +broad dark background which every man sees when he closes his eyes, +he began to hear hurried footsteps, the rustle of skirts, the sound +of a kiss and--an intense groundless joy took possession of him +. . . . Abandoning himself to this joy, he heard the orderly return +and announce that there was no beer. Lobytko was terribly indignant, +and began pacing up and down again. + +"Well, isn't he an idiot?" he kept saying, stopping first before +Ryabovitch and then before Merzlyakov. "What a fool and a dummy a +man must be not to get hold of any beer! Eh? Isn't he a scoundrel?" + +"Of course you can't get beer here," said Merzlyakov, not removing +his eyes from the "Vyestnik Evropi." + +"Oh! Is that your opinion?" Lobytko persisted. "Lord have mercy +upon us, if you dropped me on the moon I'd find you beer and women +directly! I'll go and find some at once. . . . You may call me an +impostor if I don't!" + +He spent a long time in dressing and pulling on his high boots, +then finished smoking his cigarette in silence and went out. + +"Rabbek, Grabbek, Labbek," he muttered, stopping in the outer room. +"I don't care to go alone, damn it all! Ryabovitch, wouldn't you +like to go for a walk? Eh?" + +Receiving no answer, he returned, slowly undressed and got into +bed. Merzlyakov sighed, put the "Vyestnik Evropi" away, and put out +the light. + +"H'm! . . ." muttered Lobytko, lighting a cigarette in the dark. + +Ryabovitch pulled the bed-clothes over his head, curled himself up +in bed, and tried to gather together the floating images in his +mind and to combine them into one whole. But nothing came of it. +He soon fell asleep, and his last thought was that some one had +caressed him and made him happy--that something extraordinary, +foolish, but joyful and delightful, had come into his life. The +thought did not leave him even in his sleep. + +When he woke up the sensations of oil on his neck and the chill of +peppermint about his lips had gone, but joy flooded his heart just +as the day before. He looked enthusiastically at the window-frames, +gilded by the light of the rising sun, and listened to the movement +of the passers-by in the street. People were talking loudly close +to the window. Lebedetsky, the commander of Ryabovitch's battery, +who had only just overtaken the brigade, was talking to his sergeant +at the top of his voice, being always accustomed to shout. + +"What else?" shouted the commander. + +"When they were shoeing yesterday, your high nobility, they drove +a nail into Pigeon's hoof. The vet. put on clay and vinegar; they +are leading him apart now. And also, your honour, Artemyev got drunk +yesterday, and the lieutenant ordered him to be put in the limber +of a spare gun-carriage." + +The sergeant reported that Karpov had forgotten the new cords for +the trumpets and the rings for the tents, and that their honours, +the officers, had spent the previous evening visiting General Von +Rabbek. In the middle of this conversation the red-bearded face of +Lebedetsky appeared in the window. He screwed up his short-sighted +eyes, looking at the sleepy faces of the officers, and said +good-morning to them. + +"Is everything all right?" he asked. + +"One of the horses has a sore neck from the new collar," answered +Lobytko, yawning. + +The commander sighed, thought a moment, and said in a loud voice: + +"I am thinking of going to see Alexandra Yevgrafovna. I must call +on her. Well, good-bye. I shall catch you up in the evening." + +A quarter of an hour later the brigade set off on its way. When it +was moving along the road by the granaries, Ryabovitch looked at +the house on the right. The blinds were down in all the windows. +Evidently the household was still asleep. The one who had kissed +Ryabovitch the day before was asleep, too. He tried to imagine her +asleep. The wide-open windows of the bedroom, the green branches +peeping in, the morning freshness, the scent of the poplars, lilac, +and roses, the bed, a chair, and on it the skirts that had rustled +the day before, the little slippers, the little watch on the table +--all this he pictured to himself clearly and distinctly, but the +features of the face, the sweet sleepy smile, just what was +characteristic and important, slipped through his imagination like +quicksilver through the fingers. When he had ridden on half a mile, +he looked back: the yellow church, the house, and the river, were +all bathed in light; the river with its bright green banks, with +the blue sky reflected in it and glints of silver in the sunshine +here and there, was very beautiful. Ryabovitch gazed for the last +time at Myestetchki, and he felt as sad as though he were parting +with something very near and dear to him. + +And before him on the road lay nothing but long familiar, uninteresting +pictures. . . . To right and to left, fields of young rye and +buckwheat with rooks hopping about in them. If one looked ahead, +one saw dust and the backs of men's heads; if one looked back, one +saw the same dust and faces. . . . Foremost of all marched four men +with sabres--this was the vanguard. Next, behind, the crowd of +singers, and behind them the trumpeters on horseback. The vanguard +and the chorus of singers, like torch-bearers in a funeral procession, +often forgot to keep the regulation distance and pushed a long way +ahead. . . . Ryabovitch was with the first cannon of the fifth +battery. He could see all the four batteries moving in front of +him. For any one not a military man this long tedious procession +of a moving brigade seems an intricate and unintelligible muddle; +one cannot understand why there are so many people round one cannon, +and why it is drawn by so many horses in such a strange network of +harness, as though it really were so terrible and heavy. To Ryabovitch +it was all perfectly comprehensible and therefore uninteresting. +He had known for ever so long why at the head of each battery there +rode a stalwart bombardier, and why he was called a bombardier; +immediately behind this bombardier could be seen the horsemen of +the first and then of the middle units. Ryabovitch knew that the +horses on which they rode, those on the left, were called one name, +while those on the right were called another--it was extremely +uninteresting. Behind the horsemen came two shaft-horses. On one +of them sat a rider with the dust of yesterday on his back and a +clumsy and funny-looking piece of wood on his leg. Ryabovitch knew +the object of this piece of wood, and did not think it funny. All +the riders waved their whips mechanically and shouted from time to +time. The cannon itself was ugly. On the fore part lay sacks of +oats covered with canvas, and the cannon itself was hung all over +with kettles, soldiers' knapsacks, bags, and looked like some small +harmless animal surrounded for some unknown reason by men and horses. +To the leeward of it marched six men, the gunners, swinging their +arms. After the cannon there came again more bombardiers, riders, +shaft-horses, and behind them another cannon, as ugly and unimpressive +as the first. After the second followed a third, a fourth; near the +fourth an officer, and so on. There were six batteries in all in +the brigade, and four cannons in each battery. The procession covered +half a mile; it ended in a string of wagons near which an extremely +attractive creature--the ass, Magar, brought by a battery commander +from Turkey--paced pensively with his long-eared head drooping. + +Ryabovitch looked indifferently before and behind, at the backs of +heads and at faces; at any other time he would have been half asleep, +but now he was entirely absorbed in his new agreeable thoughts. At +first when the brigade was setting off on the march he tried to +persuade himself that the incident of the kiss could only be +interesting as a mysterious little adventure, that it was in reality +trivial, and to think of it seriously, to say the least of it, was +stupid; but now he bade farewell to logic and gave himself up to +dreams. . . . At one moment he imagined himself in Von Rabbek's +drawing-room beside a girl who was like the young lady in lilac and +the fair girl in black; then he would close his eyes and see himself +with another, entirely unknown girl, whose features were very vague. +In his imagination he talked, caressed her, leaned on her shoulder, +pictured war, separation, then meeting again, supper with his wife, +children. . . . + +"Brakes on!" the word of command rang out every time they went +downhill. + +He, too, shouted "Brakes on!" and was afraid this shout would disturb +his reverie and bring him back to reality. . . . + +As they passed by some landowner's estate Ryabovitch looked over +the fence into the garden. A long avenue, straight as a ruler, +strewn with yellow sand and bordered with young birch-trees, met +his eyes. . . . With the eagerness of a man given up to dreaming, +he pictured to himself little feminine feet tripping along yellow +sand, and quite unexpectedly had a clear vision in his imagination +of the girl who had kissed him and whom he had succeeded in picturing +to himself the evening before at supper. This image remained in his +brain and did not desert him again. + +At midday there was a shout in the rear near the string of wagons: + +"Easy! Eyes to the left! Officers!" + +The general of the brigade drove by in a carriage with a pair of +white horses. He stopped near the second battery, and shouted +something which no one understood. Several officers, among them +Ryabovitch, galloped up to them. + +"Well?" asked the general, blinking his red eyes. "Are there any +sick?" + +Receiving an answer, the general, a little skinny man, chewed, +thought for a moment and said, addressing one of the officers: + +"One of your drivers of the third cannon has taken off his leg-guard +and hung it on the fore part of the cannon, the rascal. Reprimand +him." + +He raised his eyes to Ryabovitch and went on: + +"It seems to me your front strap is too long." + +Making a few other tedious remarks, the general looked at Lobytko +and grinned. + +"You look very melancholy today, Lieutenant Lobytko," he said. "Are +you pining for Madame Lopuhov? Eh? Gentlemen, he is pining for +Madame Lopuhov." + +The lady in question was a very stout and tall person who had long +passed her fortieth year. The general, who had a predilection for +solid ladies, whatever their ages, suspected a similar taste in his +officers. The officers smiled respectfully. The general, delighted +at having said something very amusing and biting, laughed loudly, +touched his coachman's back, and saluted. The carriage rolled on. . . . + +"All I am dreaming about now which seems to me so impossible and +unearthly is really quite an ordinary thing," thought Ryabovitch, +looking at the clouds of dust racing after the general's carriage. +"It's all very ordinary, and every one goes through it. . . . That +general, for instance, has once been in love; now he is married and +has children. Captain Vahter, too, is married and beloved, though +the nape of his neck is very red and ugly and he has no waist. . . . +Salrnanov is coarse and very Tatar, but he has had a love affair +that has ended in marriage. . . . I am the same as every one else, +and I, too, shall have the same experience as every one else, sooner +or later. . . ." + +And the thought that he was an ordinary person, and that his life +was ordinary, delighted him and gave him courage. He pictured her +and his happiness as he pleased, and put no rein on his imagination. + +When the brigade reached their halting-place in the evening, and +the officers were resting in their tents, Ryabovitch, Merzlyakov, +and Lobytko were sitting round a box having supper. Merzlyakov ate +without haste, and, as he munched deliberately, read the "Vyestnik +Evropi," which he held on his knees. Lobytko talked incessantly and +kept filling up his glass with beer, and Ryabovitch, whose head was +confused from dreaming all day long, drank and said nothing. After +three glasses he got a little drunk, felt weak, and had an irresistible +desire to impart his new sensations to his comrades. + +"A strange thing happened to me at those Von Rabbeks'," he began, +trying to put an indifferent and ironical tone into his voice. "You +know I went into the billiard-room. . . ." + +He began describing very minutely the incident of the kiss, and a +moment later relapsed into silence. . . . In the course of that +moment he had told everything, and it surprised him dreadfully to +find how short a time it took him to tell it. He had imagined that +he could have been telling the story of the kiss till next morning. +Listening to him, Lobytko, who was a great liar and consequently +believed no one, looked at him sceptically and laughed. Merzlyakov +twitched his eyebrows and, without removing his eyes from the +"Vyestnik Evropi," said: + +"That's an odd thing! How strange! . . . throws herself on a man's +neck, without addressing him by name. .. . She must be some sort +of hysterical neurotic." + +"Yes, she must," Ryabovitch agreed. + +"A similar thing once happened to me," said Lobytko, assuming a +scared expression. "I was going last year to Kovno. . . . I took a +second-class ticket. The train was crammed, and it was impossible +to sleep. I gave the guard half a rouble; he took my luggage and +led me to another compartment. . . . I lay down and covered myself +with a rug. . . . It was dark, you understand. Suddenly I felt some +one touch me on the shoulder and breathe in my face. I made a +movement with my hand and felt somebody's elbow. . . . I opened my +eyes and only imagine--a woman. Black eyes, lips red as a prime +salmon, nostrils breathing passionately--a bosom like a buffer. . . ." + +"Excuse me," Merzlyakov interrupted calmly, "I understand about the +bosom, but how could you see the lips if it was dark?" + +Lobytko began trying to put himself right and laughing at Merzlyakov's +unimaginativeness. It made Ryabovitch wince. He walked away from +the box, got into bed, and vowed never to confide again. + +Camp life began. . . . The days flowed by, one very much like +another. All those days Ryabovitch felt, thought, and behaved as +though he were in love. Every morning when his orderly handed him +water to wash with, and he sluiced his head with cold water, he +thought there was something warm and delightful in his life. + +In the evenings when his comrades began talking of love and women, +he would listen, and draw up closer; and he wore the expression of +a soldier when he hears the description of a battle in which he has +taken part. And on the evenings when the officers, out on the spree +with the setter--Lobytko--at their head, made Don Juan excursions +to the "suburb," and Ryabovitch took part in such excursions, he +always was sad, felt profoundly guilty, and inwardly begged _her_ +forgiveness. . . . In hours of leisure or on sleepless nights, when +he felt moved to recall his childhood, his father and mother-- +everything near and dear, in fact, he invariably thought of +Myestetchki, the strange horse, Von Rabbek, his wife who was like +the Empress Eugenie, the dark room, the crack of light at the +door. . . . + +On the thirty-first of August he went back from the camp, not with +the whole brigade, but with only two batteries of it. He was dreaming +and excited all the way, as though he were going back to his native +place. He had an intense longing to see again the strange horse, +the church, the insincere family of the Von Rabbeks, the dark room. +The "inner voice," which so often deceives lovers, whispered to him +for some reason that he would be sure to see her . . . and he was +tortured by the questions, How he should meet her? What he would +talk to her about? Whether she had forgotten the kiss? If the worst +came to the worst, he thought, even if he did not meet her, it would +be a pleasure to him merely to go through the dark room and recall +the past. . . . + +Towards evening there appeared on the horizon the familiar church +and white granaries. Ryabovitch's heart beat. . . . He did not hear +the officer who was riding beside him and saying something to him, +he forgot everything, and looked eagerly at the river shining in +the distance, at the roof of the house, at the dovecote round which +the pigeons were circling in the light of the setting sun. + +When they reached the church and were listening to the billeting +orders, he expected every second that a man on horseback would come +round the church enclosure and invite the officers to tea, but . . . +the billeting orders were read, the officers were in haste to go +on to the village, and the man on horseback did not appear. + +"Von Rabbek will hear at once from the peasants that we have come +and will send for us," thought Ryabovitch, as he went into the hut, +unable to understand why a comrade was lighting a candle and why +the orderlies were hurriedly setting samovars. . . . + +A painful uneasiness took possession of him. He lay down, then got +up and looked out of the window to see whether the messenger were +coming. But there was no sign of him. + +He lay down again, but half an hour later he got up, and, unable +to restrain his uneasiness, went into the street and strode towards +the church. It was dark and deserted in the square near the church +. . . . Three soldiers were standing silent in a row where the road +began to go downhill. Seeing Ryabovitch, they roused themselves and +saluted. He returned the salute and began to go down the familiar +path. + +On the further side of the river the whole sky was flooded with +crimson: the moon was rising; two peasant women, talking loudly, +were picking cabbage in the kitchen garden; behind the kitchen +garden there were some dark huts. . . . And everything on the near +side of the river was just as it had been in May: the path, the +bushes, the willows overhanging the water . . . but there was no +sound of the brave nightingale, and no scent of poplar and fresh +grass. + +Reaching the garden, Ryabovitch looked in at the gate. The garden +was dark and still. . . . He could see nothing but the white stems +of the nearest birch-trees and a little bit of the avenue; all the +rest melted together into a dark blur. Ryabovitch looked and listened +eagerly, but after waiting for a quarter of an hour without hearing +a sound or catching a glimpse of a light, he trudged back. . . . + +He went down to the river. The General's bath-house and the bath-sheets +on the rail of the little bridge showed white before him. . . . He +went on to the bridge, stood a little, and, quite unnecessarily, +touched the sheets. They felt rough and cold. He looked down at the +water. . . . The river ran rapidly and with a faintly audible gurgle +round the piles of the bath-house. The red moon was reflected near +the left bank; little ripples ran over the reflection, stretching +it out, breaking it into bits, and seemed trying to carry it away. + +"How stupid, how stupid!" thought Ryabovitch, looking at the running +water. "How unintelligent it all is!" + +Now that he expected nothing, the incident of the kiss, his impatience, +his vague hopes and disappointment, presented themselves in a clear +light. It no longer seemed to him strange that he had not seen the +General's messenger, and that he would never see the girl who had +accidentally kissed him instead of some one else; on the contrary, +it would have been strange if he had seen her. . . . + +The water was running, he knew not where or why, just as it did in +May. In May it had flowed into the great river, from the great river +into the sea; then it had risen in vapour, turned into rain, and +perhaps the very same water was running now before Ryabovitch's +eyes again. . . . What for? Why? + +And the whole world, the whole of life, seemed to Ryabovitch an +unintelligible, aimless jest. . . . And turning his eyes from the +water and looking at the sky, he remembered again how fate in the +person of an unknown woman had by chance caressed him, he remembered +his summer dreams and fancies, and his life struck him as extraordinarily +meagre, poverty-stricken, and colourless. . . . + +When he went back to his hut he did not find one of his comrades. +The orderly informed him that they had all gone to "General von +Rabbek's, who had sent a messenger on horseback to invite them. . . ." + +For an instant there was a flash of joy in Ryabovitch's heart, but +he quenched it at once, got into bed, and in his wrath with his +fate, as though to spite it, did not go to the General's. + + +'ANNA ON THE NECK' + +I + +AFTER the wedding they had not even light refreshments; the happy +pair simply drank a glass of champagne, changed into their travelling +things, and drove to the station. Instead of a gay wedding ball and +supper, instead of music and dancing, they went on a journey to +pray at a shrine a hundred and fifty miles away. Many people commended +this, saying that Modest Alexeitch was a man high up in the service +and no longer young, and that a noisy wedding might not have seemed +quite suitable; and music is apt to sound dreary when a government +official of fifty-two marries a girl who is only just eighteen. +People said, too, that Modest Alexeitch, being a man of principle, +had arranged this visit to the monastery expressly in order to make +his young bride realize that even in marriage he put religion and +morality above everything. + +The happy pair were seen off at the station. The crowd of relations +and colleagues in the service stood, with glasses in their hands, +waiting for the train to start to shout "Hurrah!" and the bride's +father, Pyotr Leontyitch, wearing a top-hat and the uniform of a +teacher, already drunk and very pale, kept craning towards the +window, glass in hand and saying in an imploring voice: + +"Anyuta! Anya, Anya! one word!" + +Anna bent out of the window to him, and he whispered something to +her, enveloping her in a stale smell of alcohol, blew into her ear +--she could make out nothing--and made the sign of the cross +over her face, her bosom, and her hands; meanwhile he was breathing +in gasps and tears were shining in his eyes. And the schoolboys, +Anna's brothers, Petya and Andrusha, pulled at his coat from behind, +whispering in confusion: + +"Father, hush! . . . Father, that's enough. . . ." + +When the train started, Anna saw her father run a little way after +the train, staggering and spilling his wine, and what a kind, guilty, +pitiful face he had: + +"Hurra--ah!" he shouted. + +The happy pair were left alone. Modest Alexeitch looked about the +compartment, arranged their things on the shelves, and sat down, +smiling, opposite his young wife. He was an official of medium +height, rather stout and puffy, who looked exceedingly well nourished, +with long whiskers and no moustache. His clean-shaven, round, sharply +defined chin looked like the heel of a foot. The most characteristic +point in his face was the absence of moustache, the bare, freshly +shaven place, which gradually passed into the fat cheeks, quivering +like jelly. His deportment was dignified, his movements were +deliberate, his manner was soft. + +"I cannot help remembering now one circumstance," he said, smiling. +"When, five years ago, Kosorotov received the order of St. Anna of +the second grade, and went to thank His Excellency, His Excellency +expressed himself as follows: 'So now you have three Annas: one in +your buttonhole and two on your neck.' And it must be explained +that at that time Kosorotov's wife, a quarrelsome and frivolous +person, had just returned to him, and that her name was Anna. I +trust that when I receive the Anna of the second grade His Excellency +will not have occasion to say the same thing to me." + +He smiled with his little eyes. And she, too, smiled, troubled at +the thought that at any moment this man might kiss her with his +thick damp lips, and that she had no right to prevent his doing so. +The soft movements of his fat person frightened her; she felt both +fear and disgust. He got up, without haste took off the order from +his neck, took off his coat and waistcoat, and put on his dressing-gown. + +"That's better," he said, sitting down beside Anna. + +Anna remembered what agony the wedding had been, when it had seemed +to her that the priest, and the guests, and every one in church had +been looking at her sorrowfully and asking why, why was she, such +a sweet, nice girl, marrying such an elderly, uninteresting gentleman. +Only that morning she was delighted that everything had been +satisfactorily arranged, but at the time of the wedding, and now +in the railway carriage, she felt cheated, guilty, and ridiculous. +Here she had married a rich man and yet she had no money, her +wedding-dress had been bought on credit, and when her father and +brothers had been saying good-bye, she could see from their faces +that they had not a farthing. Would they have any supper that day? +And tomorrow? And for some reason it seemed to her that her father +and the boys were sitting tonight hungry without her, and feeling +the same misery as they had the day after their mother's funeral. + +"Oh, how unhappy I am!" she thought. "Why am I so unhappy?" + +With the awkwardness of a man with settled habits, unaccustomed to +deal with women, Modest Alexeitch touched her on the waist and +patted her on the shoulder, while she went on thinking about money, +about her mother and her mother's death. When her mother died, her +father, Pyotr Leontyitch, a teacher of drawing and writing in the +high school, had taken to drink, impoverishment had followed, the +boys had not had boots or goloshes, their father had been hauled +up before the magistrate, the warrant officer had come and made an +inventory of the furniture. . . . What a disgrace! Anna had had to +look after her drunken father, darn her brothers' stockings, go to +market, and when she was complimented on her youth, her beauty, and +her elegant manners, it seemed to her that every one was looking +at her cheap hat and the holes in her boots that were inked over. +And at night there had been tears and a haunting dread that her +father would soon, very soon, be dismissed from the school for his +weakness, and that he would not survive it, but would die, too, +like their mother. But ladies of their acquaintance had taken the +matter in hand and looked about for a good match for Anna. This +Modest Alexevitch, who was neither young nor good-looking but had +money, was soon found. He had a hundred thousand in the bank and +the family estate, which he had let on lease. He was a man of +principle and stood well with His Excellency; it would be nothing +to him, so they told Anna, to get a note from His Excellency to the +directors of the high school, or even to the Education Commissioner, +to prevent Pyotr Leontyitch from being dismissed. + +While she was recalling these details, she suddenly heard strains +of music which floated in at the window, together with the sound +of voices. The train was stopping at a station. In the crowd beyond +the platform an accordion and a cheap squeaky fiddle were being +briskly played, and the sound of a military band came from beyond +the villas and the tall birches and poplars that lay bathed in the +moonlight; there must have been a dance in the place. Summer visitors +and townspeople, who used to come out here by train in fine weather +for a breath of fresh air, were parading up and down on the platform. +Among them was the wealthy owner of all the summer villas--a tall, +stout, dark man called Artynov. He had prominent eyes and looked +like an Armenian. He wore a strange costume; his shirt was unbuttoned, +showing his chest; he wore high boots with spurs, and a black cloak +hung from his shoulders and dragged on the ground like a train. Two +boar-hounds followed him with their sharp noses to the ground. + +Tears were still shining in Anna's eyes, but she was not thinking +now of her mother, nor of money, nor of her marriage; but shaking +hands with schoolboys and officers she knew, she laughed gaily and +said quickly: + +"How do you do? How are you?" + +She went out on to the platform between the carriages into the +moonlight, and stood so that they could all see her in her new +splendid dress and hat. + +"Why are we stopping here?" she asked. + +"This is a junction. They are waiting for the mail train to pass." + +Seeing that Artynov was looking at her, she screwed up her eyes +coquettishly and began talking aloud in French; and because her +voice sounded so pleasant, and because she heard music and the moon +was reflected in the pond, and because Artynov, the notorious Don +Juan and spoiled child of fortune, was looking at her eagerly and +with curiosity, and because every one was in good spirits--she +suddenly felt joyful, and when the train started and the officers +of her acquaintance saluted her, she was humming the polka the +strains of which reached her from the military band playing beyond +the trees; and she returned to her compartment feeling as though +it had been proved to her at the station that she would certainly +be happy in spite of everything. + +The happy pair spent two days at the monastery, then went back to +town. They lived in a rent-free flat. When Modest Alexevitch had +gone to the office, Anna played the piano, or shed tears of depression, +or lay down on a couch and read novels or looked through fashion +papers. At dinner Modest Alexevitch ate a great deal and talked +about politics, about appointments, transfers, and promotions in +the service, about the necessity of hard work, and said that, family +life not being a pleasure but a duty, if you took care of the kopecks +the roubles would take care of themselves, and that he put religion +and morality before everything else in the world. And holding his +knife in his fist as though it were a sword, he would say: + +"Every one ought to have his duties!" + +And Anna listened to him, was frightened, and could not eat, and +she usually got up from the table hungry. After dinner her husband +lay down for a nap and snored loudly, while Anna went to see her +own people. Her father and the boys looked at her in a peculiar +way, as though just before she came in they had been blaming her +for having married for money a tedious, wearisome man she did not +love; her rustling skirts, her bracelets, and her general air of a +married lady, offended them and made them uncomfortable. In her +presence they felt a little embarrassed and did not know what to +talk to her about; but yet they still loved her as before, and were +not used to having dinner without her. She sat down with them to +cabbage soup, porridge, and fried potatoes, smelling of mutton +dripping. Pyotr Leontyitch filled his glass from the decanter with +a trembling hand and drank it off hurriedly, greedily, with repulsion, +then poured out a second glass and then a third. Petya and Andrusha, +thin, pale boys with big eyes, would take the decanter and say +desperately: + +"You mustn't, father. . . . Enough, father. . . ." + +And Anna, too, was troubled and entreated him to drink no more; and +he would suddenly fly into a rage and beat the table with his fists: + +"I won't allow any one to dictate to me!" he would shout. "Wretched +boys! wretched girl! I'll turn you all out!" + +But there was a note of weakness, of good-nature in his voice, and +no one was afraid of him. After dinner he usually dressed in his +best. Pale, with a cut on his chin from shaving, craning his thin +neck, he would stand for half an hour before the glass, prinking, +combing his hair, twisting his black moustache, sprinkling himself +with scent, tying his cravat in a bow; then he would put on his +gloves and his top-hat, and go off to give his private lessons. Or +if it was a holiday he would stay at home and paint, or play the +harmonium, which wheezed and growled; he would try to wrest from +it pure harmonious sounds and would sing to it; or would storm at +the boys: + +"Wretches! Good-for-nothing boys! You have spoiled the instrument!" + +In the evening Anna's husband played cards with his colleagues, who +lived under the same roof in the government quarters. The wives of +these gentlemen would come in--ugly, tastelessly dressed women, +as coarse as cooks--and gossip would begin in the flat as tasteless +and unattractive as the ladies themselves. Sometimes Modest Alexevitch +would take Anna to the theatre. In the intervals he would never let +her stir a step from his side, but walked about arm in arm with her +through the corridors and the foyer. When he bowed to some one, he +immediately whispered to Anna: "A civil councillor . . . visits at +His Excellency's"; or, "A man of means . . . has a house of his +own." When they passed the buffet Anna had a great longing for +something sweet; she was fond of chocolate and apple cakes, but she +had no money, and she did not like to ask her husband. He would +take a pear, pinch it with his fingers, and ask uncertainly: + +"How much?" + +"Twenty-five kopecks!" + +"I say!" he would reply, and put it down; but as it was awkward to +leave the buffet without buying anything, he would order some +seltzer-water and drink the whole bottle himself, and tears would +come into his eyes. And Anna hated him at such times. + +And suddenly flushing crimson, he would say to her rapidly: + +"Bow to that old lady!" + +"But I don't know her." + +"No matter. That's the wife of the director of the local treasury! +Bow, I tell you," he would grumble insistently. "Your head won't +drop off." + +Anna bowed and her head certainly did not drop off, but it was +agonizing. She did everything her husband wanted her to, and was +furious with herself for having let him deceive her like the veriest +idiot. She had only married him for his money, and yet she had less +money now than before her marriage. In old days her father would +sometimes give her twenty kopecks, but now she had not a farthing. + +To take money by stealth or ask for it, she could not; she was +afraid of her husband, she trembled before him. She felt as though +she had been afraid of him for years. In her childhood the director +of the high school had always seemed the most impressive and +terrifying force in the world, sweeping down like a thunderstorm +or a steam-engine ready to crush her; another similar force of which +the whole family talked, and of which they were for some reason +afraid, was His Excellency; then there were a dozen others, less +formidable, and among them the teachers at the high school, with +shaven upper lips, stern, implacable; and now finally, there was +Modest Alexeitch, a man of principle, who even resembled the director +in the face. And in Anna's imagination all these forces blended +together into one, and, in the form of a terrible, huge white bear, +menaced the weak and erring such as her father. And she was afraid +to say anything in opposition to her husband, and gave a forced +smile, and tried to make a show of pleasure when she was coarsely +caressed and defiled by embraces that excited her terror. Only once +Pyotr Leontyitch had the temerity to ask for a loan of fifty roubles +in order to pay some very irksome debt, but what an agony it had +been! + +"Very good; I'll give it to you," said Modest Alexeitch after a +moment's thought; "but I warn you I won't help you again till you +give up drinking. Such a failing is disgraceful in a man in the +government service! I must remind you of the well-known fact that +many capable people have been ruined by that passion, though they +might possibly, with temperance, have risen in time to a very high +position." + +And long-winded phrases followed: "inasmuch as . . .", "following +upon which proposition . . .", "in view of the aforesaid contention +. . ."; and Pyotr Leontyitch was in agonies of humiliation and felt +an intense craving for alcohol. + +And when the boys came to visit Anna, generally in broken boots and +threadbare trousers, they, too, had to listen to sermons. + +"Every man ought to have his duties!" Modest Alexeitch would say +to them. + +And he did not give them money. But he did give Anna bracelets, +rings, and brooches, saying that these things would come in useful +for a rainy day. And he often unlocked her drawer and made an +inspection to see whether they were all safe. + +II + +Meanwhile winter came on. Long before Christmas there was an +announcement in the local papers that the usual winter ball would +take place on the twenty-ninth of December in the Hall of Nobility. +Every evening after cards Modest Alexeitch was excitedly whispering +with his colleagues' wives and glancing at Anna, and then paced up +and down the room for a long while, thinking. At last, late one +evening, he stood still, facing Anna, and said: + +"You ought to get yourself a ball dress. Do you understand? Only +please consult Marya Grigoryevna and Natalya Kuzminishna." + +And he gave her a hundred roubles. She took the money, but she did +not consult any one when she ordered the ball dress; she spoke to +no one but her father, and tried to imagine how her mother would +have dressed for a ball. Her mother had always dressed in the latest +fashion and had always taken trouble over Anna, dressing her elegantly +like a doll, and had taught her to speak French and dance the mazurka +superbly (she had been a governess for five years before her +marriage). Like her mother, Anna could make a new dress out of an +old one, clean gloves with benzine, hire jewels; and, like her +mother, she knew how to screw up her eyes, lisp, assume graceful +attitudes, fly into raptures when necessary, and throw a mournful +and enigmatic look into her eyes. And from her father she had +inherited the dark colour of her hair and eyes, her highly-strung +nerves, and the habit of always making herself look her best. + +When, half an hour before setting off for the ball, Modest Alexeitch +went into her room without his coat on, to put his order round his +neck before her pier-glass, dazzled by her beauty and the splendour +of her fresh, ethereal dress, he combed his whiskers complacently +and said: + +"So that's what my wife can look like . . . so that's what you can +look like! Anyuta!" he went on, dropping into a tone of solemnity, +"I have made your fortune, and now I beg you to do something for +mine. I beg you to get introduced to the wife of His Excellency! +For God's sake, do! Through her I may get the post of senior reporting +clerk!" + +They went to the ball. They reached the Hall of Nobility, the +entrance with the hall porter. They came to the vestibule with the +hat-stands, the fur coats; footmen scurrying about, and ladies with +low necks putting up their fans to screen themselves from the +draughts. There was a smell of gas and of soldiers. When Anna, +walking upstairs on her husband's arm, heard the music and saw +herself full length in the looking-glass in the full glow of the +lights, there was a rush of joy in her heart, and she felt the same +presentiment of happiness as in the moonlight at the station. She +walked in proudly, confidently, for the first time feeling herself +not a girl but a lady, and unconsciously imitating her mother in +her walk and in her manner. And for the first time in her life she +felt rich and free. Even her husband's presence did not oppress +her, for as she crossed the threshold of the hall she had guessed +instinctively that the proximity of an old husband did not detract +from her in the least, but, on the contrary, gave her that shade +of piquant mystery that is so attractive to men. The orchestra was +already playing and the dances had begun. After their flat Anna was +overwhelmed by the lights, the bright colours, the music, the noise, +and looking round the room, thought, "Oh, how lovely!" She at once +distinguished in the crowd all her acquaintances, every one she had +met before at parties or on picnics--all the officers, the teachers, +the lawyers, the officials, the landowners, His Excellency, Artynov, +and the ladies of the highest standing, dressed up and very +_decollettees_, handsome and ugly, who had already taken up their +positions in the stalls and pavilions of the charity bazaar, to +begin selling things for the benefit of the poor. A huge officer +in epaulettes--she had been introduced to him in Staro-Kievsky +Street when she was a schoolgirl, but now she could not remember +his name--seemed to spring from out of the ground, begging her +for a waltz, and she flew away from her husband, feeling as though +she were floating away in a sailing-boat in a violent storm, while +her husband was left far away on the shore. She danced passionately, +with fervour, a waltz, then a polka and a quadrille, being snatched +by one partner as soon as she was left by another, dizzy with music +and the noise, mixing Russian with French, lisping, laughing, and +with no thought of her husband or anything else. She excited great +admiration among the men--that was evident, and indeed it could +not have been otherwise; she was breathless with excitement, felt +thirsty, and convulsively clutched her fan. Pyotr Leontyitch, her +father, in a crumpled dress-coat that smelt of benzine, came up to +her, offering her a plate of pink ice. + +"You are enchanting this evening," he said, looking at her rapturously, +"and I have never so much regretted that you were in such a hurry +to get married. . . . What was it for? I know you did it for our +sake, but . . ." With a shaking hand he drew out a roll of notes +and said: "I got the money for my lessons today, and can pay your +husband what I owe him." + +She put the plate back into his hand, and was pounced upon by some +one and borne off to a distance. She caught a glimpse over her +partner's shoulder of her father gliding over the floor, putting +his arm round a lady and whirling down the ball-room with her. + +"How sweet he is when he is sober!" she thought. + +She danced the mazurka with the same huge officer; he moved gravely, +as heavily as a dead carcase in a uniform, twitched his shoulders +and his chest, stamped his feet very languidly--he felt fearfully +disinclined to dance. She fluttered round him, provoking him by her +beauty, her bare neck; her eyes glowed defiantly, her movements +were passionate, while he became more and more indifferent, and +held out his hands to her as graciously as a king. + +"Bravo, bravo!" said people watching them. + +But little by little the huge officer, too, broke out; he grew +lively, excited, and, overcome by her fascination, was carried away +and danced lightly, youthfully, while she merely moved her shoulders +and looked slyly at him as though she were now the queen and he +were her slave; and at that moment it seemed to her that the whole +room was looking at them, and that everybody was thrilled and envied +them. The huge officer had hardly had time to thank her for the +dance, when the crowd suddenly parted and the men drew themselves +up in a strange way, with their hands at their sides. + +His Excellency, with two stars on his dress-coat, was walking up +to her. Yes, His Excellency was walking straight towards her, for +he was staring directly at her with a sugary smile, while he licked +his lips as he always did when he saw a pretty woman. + +"Delighted, delighted . . ." he began. "I shall order your husband +to be clapped in a lock-up for keeping such a treasure hidden from +us till now. I've come to you with a message from my wife," he went +on, offering her his arm. "You must help us. . . . M-m-yes. . . . +We ought to give you the prize for beauty as they do in America +. . . . M-m-yes. . . . The Americans. . . . My wife is expecting you +impatiently." + +He led her to a stall and presented her to a middle-aged lady, the +lower part of whose face was disproportionately large, so that she +looked as though she were holding a big stone in her mouth. + +"You must help us," she said through her nose in a sing-song voice. +"All the pretty women are working for our charity bazaar, and you +are the only one enjoying yourself. Why won't you help us?" + +She went away, and Anna took her place by the cups and the silver +samovar. She was soon doing a lively trade. Anna asked no less than +a rouble for a cup of tea, and made the huge officer drink three +cups. Artynov, the rich man with prominent eyes, who suffered from +asthma, came up, too; he was not dressed in the strange costume in +which Anna had seen him in the summer at the station, but wore a +dress-coat like every one else. Keeping his eyes fixed on Anna, he +drank a glass of champagne and paid a hundred roubles for it, then +drank some tea and gave another hundred--all this without saying +a word, as he was short of breath through asthma. . . . Anna invited +purchasers and got money out of them, firmly convinced by now that +her smiles and glances could not fail to afford these people great +pleasure. She realized now that she was created exclusively for +this noisy, brilliant, laughing life, with its music, its dancers, +its adorers, and her old terror of a force that was sweeping down +upon her and menacing to crush her seemed to her ridiculous: she +was afraid of no one now, and only regretted that her mother could +not be there to rejoice at her success. + +Pyotr Leontyitch, pale by now but still steady on his legs, came +up to the stall and asked for a glass of brandy. Anna turned crimson, +expecting him to say something inappropriate (she was already ashamed +of having such a poor and ordinary father); but he emptied his +glass, took ten roubles out of his roll of notes, flung it down, +and walked away with dignity without uttering a word. A little later +she saw him dancing in the grand chain, and by now he was staggering +and kept shouting something, to the great confusion of his partner; +and Anna remembered how at the ball three years before he had +staggered and shouted in the same way, and it had ended in the +police-sergeant's taking him home to bed, and next day the director +had threatened to dismiss him from his post. How inappropriate that +memory was! + +When the samovars were put out in the stalls and the exhausted +ladies handed over their takings to the middle-aged lady with the +stone in her mouth, Artynov took Anna on his arm to the hall where +supper was served to all who had assisted at the bazaar. There were +some twenty people at supper, not more, but it was very noisy. His +Excellency proposed a toast: + +"In this magnificent dining-room it will be appropriate to drink +to the success of the cheap dining-rooms, which are the object of +today's bazaar." + +The brigadier-general proposed the toast: "To the power by which +even the artillery is vanquished," and all the company clinked +glasses with the ladies. It was very, very gay. + +When Anna was escorted home it was daylight and the cooks were going +to market. Joyful, intoxicated, full of new sensations, exhausted, +she undressed, dropped into bed, and at once fell asleep. . . . + +It was past one in the afternoon when the servant waked her and +announced that M. Artynov had called. She dressed quickly and went +down into the drawing-room. Soon after Artynov, His Excellency +called to thank her for her assistance in the bazaar. With a sugary +smile, chewing his lips, he kissed her hand, and asking her permission +to come again, took his leave, while she remained standing in the +middle of the drawing-room, amazed, enchanted, unable to believe +that this change in her life, this marvellous change, had taken +place so quickly; and at that moment Modest Alexeitch walked in +. . . and he, too, stood before her now with the same ingratiating, +sugary, cringingly respectful expression which she was accustomed +to see on his face in the presence of the great and powerful; and +with rapture, with indignation, with contempt, convinced that no +harm would come to her from it, she said, articulating distinctly +each word: + +"Be off, you blockhead!" + +From this time forward Anna never had one day free, as she was +always taking part in picnics, expeditions, performances. She +returned home every day after midnight, and went to bed on the floor +in the drawing-room, and afterwards used to tell every one, touchingly, +how she slept under flowers. She needed a very great deal of money, +but she was no longer afraid of Modest Alexeitch, and spent his +money as though it were her own; and she did not ask, did not demand +it, simply sent him in the bills. "Give bearer two hundred roubles," +or "Pay one hundred roubles at once." + +At Easter Modest Alexeitch received the Anna of the second grade. +When he went to offer his thanks, His Excellency put aside the paper +he was reading and settled himself more comfortably in his chair. + +"So now you have three Annas," he said, scrutinizing his white hands +and pink nails--"one on your buttonhole and two on your neck." + +Modest Alexeitch put two fingers to his lips as a precaution against +laughing too loud and said: + +"Now I have only to look forward to the arrival of a little Vladimir. +I make bold to beg your Excellency to stand godfather." + +He was alluding to Vladimir of the fourth grade, and was already +imagining how he would tell everywhere the story of this pun, so +happy in its readiness and audacity, and he wanted to say something +equally happy, but His Excellency was buried again in his newspaper, +and merely gave him a nod. + +And Anna went on driving about with three horses, going out hunting +with Artynov, playing in one-act dramas, going out to supper, and +was more and more rarely with her own family; they dined now alone. +Pyotr Leontyitch was drinking more heavily than ever; there was no +money, and the harmonium had been sold long ago for debt. The boys +did not let him go out alone in the street now, but looked after +him for fear he might fall down; and whenever they met Anna driving +in Staro-Kievsky Street with a pair of horses and Artynov on the +box instead of a coachman, Pyotr Leontyitch took off his top-hat, +and was about to shout to her, but Petya and Andrusha took him by +the arm, and said imploringly: + +"You mustn't, father. Hush, father!" + + +THE TEACHER OF LITERATURE + +I + +THERE was the thud of horses' hoofs on the wooden floor; they brought +out of the stable the black horse, Count Nulin; then the white, +Giant; then his sister Maika. They were all magnificent, expensive +horses. Old Shelestov saddled Giant and said, addressing his daughter +Masha: + +"Well, Marie Godefroi, come, get on! Hopla!" + +Masha Shelestov was the youngest of the family; she was eighteen, +but her family could not get used to thinking that she was not a +little girl, and so they still called her Manya and Manyusa; and +after there had been a circus in the town which she had eagerly +visited, every one began to call her Marie Godefroi. + +"Hop-la!" she cried, mounting Giant. Her sister Varya got on Maika, +Nikitin on Count Nulin, the officers on their horses, and the long +picturesque cavalcade, with the officers in white tunics and the +ladies in their riding habits, moved at a walking pace out of the +yard. + +Nikitin noticed that when they were mounting the horses and afterwards +riding out into the street, Masha for some reason paid attention +to no one but himself. She looked anxiously at him and at Count +Nulin and said: + +"You must hold him all the time on the curb, Sergey Vassilitch. +Don't let him shy. He's pretending." + +And either because her Giant was very friendly with Count Nulin, +or perhaps by chance, she rode all the time beside Nikitin, as she +had done the day before, and the day before that. And he looked at +her graceful little figure sitting on the proud white beast, at her +delicate profile, at the chimney-pot hat, which did not suit her +at all and made her look older than her age--looked at her with +joy, with tenderness, with rapture; listened to her, taking in +little of what she said, and thought: + +"I promise on my honour, I swear to God, I won't be afraid and I'll +speak to her today." + +It was seven o'clock in the evening--the time when the scent of +white acacia and lilac is so strong that the air and the very trees +seem heavy with the fragrance. The band was already playing in the +town gardens. The horses made a resounding thud on the pavement, +on all sides there were sounds of laughter, talk, and the banging +of gates. The soldiers they met saluted the officers, the schoolboys +bowed to Nikitin, and all the people who were hurrying to the gardens +to hear the band were pleased at the sight of the party. And how +warm it was! How soft-looking were the clouds scattered carelessly +about the sky, how kindly and comforting the shadows of the poplars +and the acacias, which stretched across the street and reached as +far as the balconies and second stories of the houses on the other +side. + +They rode on out of the town and set off at a trot along the highroad. +Here there was no scent of lilac and acacia, no music of the band, +but there was the fragrance of the fields, there was the green of +young rye and wheat, the marmots were squeaking, the rooks were +cawing. Wherever one looked it was green, with only here and there +black patches of bare ground, and far away to the left in the +cemetery a white streak of apple-blossom. + +They passed the slaughter-houses, then the brewery, and overtook a +military band hastening to the suburban gardens. + +"Polyansky has a very fine horse, I don't deny that," Masha said +to Nikitin, with a glance towards the officer who was riding beside +Varya. "But it has blemishes. That white patch on its left leg ought +not to be there, and, look, it tosses its head. You can't train it +not to now; it will toss its head till the end of its days." + +Masha was as passionate a lover of horses as her father. She felt +a pang when she saw other people with fine horses, and was pleased +when she saw defects in them. Nikitin knew nothing about horses; +it made absolutely no difference to him whether he held his horse +on the bridle or on the curb, whether he trotted or galloped; he +only felt that his position was strained and unnatural, and that +consequently the officers who knew how to sit in their saddles must +please Masha more than he could. And he was jealous of the officers. + +As they rode by the suburban gardens some one suggested their going +in and getting some seltzer-water. They went in. There were no trees +but oaks in the gardens; they had only just come into leaf, so that +through the young foliage the whole garden could still be seen with +its platform, little tables, and swings, and the crows' nests were +visible, looking like big hats. The party dismounted near a table +and asked for seltzer-water. People they knew, walking about the +garden, came up to them. Among them the army doctor in high boots, +and the conductor of the band, waiting for the musicians. The doctor +must have taken Nikitin for a student, for he asked: "Have you come +for the summer holidays?" + +"No, I am here permanently," answered Nikitin. "I am a teacher at +the school." + +"You don't say so?" said the doctor, with surprise. "So young and +already a teacher?" + +"Young, indeed! My goodness, I'm twenty-six! + +"You have a beard and moustache, but yet one would never guess you +were more than twenty-two or twenty-three. How young-looking you +are!" + +"What a beast!" thought Nikitin. "He, too, takes me for a +whipper-snapper!" + +He disliked it extremely when people referred to his youth, especially +in the presence of women or the schoolboys. Ever since he had come +to the town as a master in the school he had detested his own +youthful appearance. The schoolboys were not afraid of him, old +people called him "young man," ladies preferred dancing with him +to listening to his long arguments, and he would have given a great +deal to be ten years older. + +From the garden they went on to the Shelestovs' farm. There they +stopped at the gate and asked the bailiff's wife, Praskovya, to +bring some new milk. Nobody drank the milk; they all looked at one +another, laughed, and galloped back. As they rode back the band was +playing in the suburban garden; the sun was setting behind the +cemetery, and half the sky was crimson from the sunset. + +Masha again rode beside Nikitin. He wanted to tell her how passionately +he loved her, but he was afraid he would be overheard by the officers +and Varya, and he was silent. Masha was silent, too, and he felt +why she was silent and why she was riding beside him, and was so +happy that the earth, the sky, the lights of the town, the black +outline of the brewery--all blended for him into something very +pleasant and comforting, and it seemed to him as though Count Nulin +were stepping on air and would climb up into the crimson sky. + +They arrived home. The samovar was already boiling on the table, +old Shelestov was sitting with his friends, officials in the Circuit +Court, and as usual he was criticizing something. + +"It's loutishness!" he said. "Loutishness and nothing more. Yes!" + +Since Nikitin had been in love with Masha, everything at the +Shelestovs' pleased him: the house, the garden, and the evening +tea, and the wickerwork chairs, and the old nurse, and even the +word "loutishness," which the old man was fond of using. The only +thing he did not like was the number of cats and dogs and the +Egyptian pigeons, who moaned disconsolately in a big cage in the +verandah. There were so many house-dogs and yard-dogs that he had +only learnt to recognize two of them in the course of his acquaintance +with the Shelestovs: Mushka and Som. Mushka was a little mangy dog +with a shaggy face, spiteful and spoiled. She hated Nikitin: when +she saw him she put her head on one side, showed her teeth, and +began: "Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga . . . rrr . . . !" Then she would get +under his chair, and when he would try to drive her away she would +go off into piercing yaps, and the family would say: "Don't be +frightened. She doesn't bite. She is a good dog." + +Som was a tall black dog with long legs and a tail as hard as a +stick. At dinner and tea he usually moved about under the table, +and thumped on people's boots and on the legs of the table with his +tail. He was a good-natured, stupid dog, but Nikitin could not +endure him because he had the habit of putting his head on people's +knees at dinner and messing their trousers with saliva. Nikitin had +more than once tried to hit him on his head with a knife-handle, +to flip him on the nose, had abused him, had complained of him, but +nothing saved his trousers. + +After their ride the tea, jam, rusks, and butter seemed very nice. +They all drank their first glass in silence and with great relish; +over the second they began an argument. It was always Varya who +started the arguments at tea; she was good-looking, handsomer than +Masha, and was considered the cleverest and most cultured person +in the house, and she behaved with dignity and severity, as an +eldest daughter should who has taken the place of her dead mother +in the house. As the mistress of the house, she felt herself entitled +to wear a dressing-gown in the presence of her guests, and to call +the officers by their surnames; she looked on Masha as a little +girl, and talked to her as though she were a schoolmistress. She +used to speak of herself as an old maid--so she was certain she +would marry. + +Every conversation, even about the weather, she invariably turned +into an argument. She had a passion for catching at words, pouncing +on contradictions, quibbling over phrases. You would begin talking +to her, and she would stare at you and suddenly interrupt: "Excuse +me, excuse me, Petrov, the other day you said the very opposite!" + +Or she would smile ironically and say: "I notice, though, you begin +to advocate the principles of the secret police. I congratulate +you." + +If you jested or made a pun, you would hear her voice at once: +"That's stale," "That's pointless." If an officer ventured on a +joke, she would make a contemptuous grimace and say, "An army joke!" + +And she rolled the _r_ so impressively that Mushka invariably +answered from under a chair, "Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga . . . !" + +On this occasion at tea the argument began with Nikitin's mentioning +the school examinations. + +"Excuse me, Sergey Vassilitch," Varya interrupted him. "You say +it's difficult for the boys. And whose fault is that, let me ask +you? For instance, you set the boys in the eighth class an essay +on 'Pushkin as a Psychologist.' To begin with, you shouldn't set +such a difficult subject; and, secondly, Pushkin was not a psychologist. +Shtchedrin now, or Dostoevsky let us say, is a different matter, +but Pushkin is a great poet and nothing more." + +"Shtchedrin is one thing, and Pushkin is another," Nikitin answered +sulkily. + +"I know you don't think much of Shtchedrin at the high school, but +that's not the point. Tell me, in what sense is Pushkin a psychologist?" + +"Why, do you mean to say he was not a psychologist? If you like, +I'll give you examples." + +And Nikitin recited several passages from "Onyegin" and then from +"Boris Godunov." + +"I see no psychology in that." Varya sighed. "The psychologist is +the man who describes the recesses of the human soul, and that's +fine poetry and nothing more." + +"I know the sort of psychology you want," said Nikitin, offended. +"You want some one to saw my finger with a blunt saw while I howl +at the top of my voice--that's what you mean by psychology." + +"That's poor! But still you haven't shown me in what sense Pushkin +is a psychologist?" + +When Nikitin had to argue against anything that seemed to him narrow, +conventional, or something of that kind, he usually leaped up from +his seat, clutched at his head with both hands, and began with a +moan, running from one end of the room to another. And it was the +same now: he jumped up, clutched his head in his hands, and with a +moan walked round the table, then he sat down a little way off. + +The officers took his part. Captain Polyansky began assuring Varya +that Pushkin really was a psychologist, and to prove it quoted two +lines from Lermontov; Lieutenant Gernet said that if Pushkin had +not been a psychologist they would not have erected a monument to +him in Moscow. + +"That's loutishness!" was heard from the other end of the table. +"I said as much to the governor: 'It's loutishness, your Excellency,' +I said." + +"I won't argue any more," cried Nikitin. "It's unending. . . . +Enough! Ach, get away, you nasty dog!" he cried to Som, who laid +his head and paw on his knee. + +"Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga!" came from under the table. + +"Admit that you are wrong!" cried Varya. "Own up!" + +But some young ladies came in, and the argument dropped of itself. +They all went into the drawing-room. Varya sat down at the piano +and began playing dances. They danced first a waltz, then a polka, +then a quadrille with a grand chain which Captain Polyansky led +through all the rooms, then a waltz again. + +During the dancing the old men sat in the drawing-room, smoking and +looking at the young people. Among them was Shebaldin, the director +of the municipal bank, who was famed for his love of literature and +dramatic art. He had founded the local Musical and Dramatic Society, +and took part in the performances himself, confining himself, for +some reason, to playing comic footmen or to reading in a sing-song +voice "The Woman who was a Sinner." His nickname in the town was +"the Mummy," as he was tall, very lean and scraggy, and always had +a solemn air and a fixed, lustreless eye. He was so devoted to the +dramatic art that he even shaved his moustache and beard, and this +made him still more like a mummy. + +After the grand chain, he shuffled up to Nikitin sideways, coughed, +and said: + +"I had the pleasure of being present during the argument at tea. I +fully share your opinion. We are of one mind, and it would be a +great pleasure to me to talk to you. Have you read Lessing on the +dramatic art of Hamburg?" + +"No, I haven't." + +Shebaldin was horrified, and waved his hands as though he had burnt +his fingers, and saying nothing more, staggered back from Nikitin. +Shebaldin's appearance, his question, and his surprise, struck +Nikitin as funny, but he thought none the less: + +"It really is awkward. I am a teacher of literature, and to this +day I've not read Lessing. I must read him." + +Before supper the whole company, old and young, sat down to play +"fate." They took two packs of cards: one pack was dealt round to +the company, the other was laid on the table face downwards. + +"The one who has this card in his hand," old Shelestov began solemnly, +lifting the top card of the second pack, "is fated to go into the +nursery and kiss nurse." + +The pleasure of kissing the nurse fell to the lot of Shebaldin. +They all crowded round him, took him to the nursery, and laughing +and clapping their hands, made him kiss the nurse. There was a great +uproar and shouting. + +"Not so ardently!" cried Shelestov with tears of laughter. "Not so +ardently!" + +It was Nikitin's "fate" to hear the confessions of all. He sat on +a chair in the middle of the drawing-room. A shawl was brought and +put over his head. The first who came to confess to him was Varya. + +"I know your sins," Nikitin began, looking in the darkness at her +stern profile. "Tell me, madam, how do you explain your walking +with Polyansky every day? Oh, it's not for nothing she walks with +an hussar!" + +"That's poor," said Varya, and walked away. + +Then under the shawl he saw the shine of big motionless eyes, caught +the lines of a dear profile in the dark, together with a familiar, +precious fragrance which reminded Nikitin of Masha's room. + +"Marie Godefroi," he said, and did not know his own voice, it was +so soft and tender, "what are your sins?" + +Masha screwed up her eyes and put out the tip of her tongue at him, +then she laughed and went away. And a minute later she was standing +in the middle of the room, clapping her hands and crying: + +"Supper, supper, supper!" + +And they all streamed into the dining-room. At supper Varya had +another argument, and this time with her father. Polyansky ate +stolidly, drank red wine, and described to Nikitin how once in a +winter campaign he had stood all night up to his knees in a bog; +the enemy was so near that they were not allowed to speak or smoke, +the night was cold and dark, a piercing wind was blowing. Nikitin +listened and stole side-glances at Masha. She was gazing at him +immovably, without blinking, as though she was pondering something +or was lost in a reverie. . . . It was pleasure and agony to him +both at once. + +"Why does she look at me like that?" was the question that fretted +him. "It's awkward. People may notice it. Oh, how young, how naive +she is!" + +The party broke up at midnight. When Nikitin went out at the gate, +a window opened on the first-floor, and Masha showed herself at it. + +"Sergey Vassilitch!" she called. + +"What is it?" + +"I tell you what . . ." said Masha, evidently thinking of something +to say. "I tell you what. . . Polyansky said he would come in a day +or two with his camera and take us all. We must meet here." + +"Very well." + +Masha vanished, the window was slammed, and some one immediately +began playing the piano in the house. + +"Well, it is a house!" thought Nikitin while he crossed the street. +"A house in which there is no moaning except from Egyptian pigeons, +and they only do it because they have no other means of expressing +their joy!" + +But the Shelestovs were not the only festive household. Nikitin had +not gone two hundred paces before he heard the strains of a piano +from another house. A little further he met a peasant playing the +balalaika at the gate. In the gardens the band struck up a potpourri +of Russian songs. + +Nikitin lived nearly half a mile from the Shelestoys' in a flat of +eight rooms at the rent of three hundred roubles a year, which he +shared with his colleague Ippolit Ippolititch, a teacher of geography +and history. When Nikitin went in this Ippolit Ippolititch, a +snub-nosed, middle-aged man with a reddish beard, with a coarse, +good-natured, unintellectual face like a workman's, was sitting at +the table correcting his pupils' maps. He considered that the most +important and necessary part of the study of geography was the +drawing of maps, and of the study of history the learning of dates: +he would sit for nights together correcting in blue pencil the maps +drawn by the boys and girls he taught, or making chronological +tables. + +"What a lovely day it has been!" said Nikitin, going in to him. "I +wonder at you--how can you sit indoors?" + +Ippolit Ippolititch was not a talkative person; he either remained +silent or talked of things which everybody knew already. Now what +he answered was: + +"Yes, very fine weather. It's May now; we soon shall have real +summer. And summer's a very different thing from winter. In the +winter you have to heat the stoves, but in summer you can keep warm +without. In summer you have your window open at night and still are +warm, and in winter you are cold even with the double frames in." + +Nikitin had not sat at the table for more than one minute before +he was bored. + +"Good-night!" he said, getting up and yawning. "I wanted to tell +you something romantic concerning myself, but you are--geography! +If one talks to you of love, you will ask one at once, 'What was +the date of the Battle of Kalka?' Confound you, with your battles +and your capes in Siberia!" + +"What are you cross about?" + +"Why, it is vexatious!" + +And vexed that he had not spoken to Masha, and that he had no one +to talk to of his love, he went to his study and lay down upon the +sofa. It was dark and still in the study. Lying gazing into the +darkness, Nikitin for some reason began thinking how in two or three +years he would go to Petersburg, how Masha would see him off at the +station and would cry; in Petersburg he would get a long letter +from her in which she would entreat him to come home as quickly as +possible. And he would write to her. . . . He would begin his letter +like that: "My dear little rat!" + +"Yes, my dear little rat!" he said, and he laughed. + +He was lying in an uncomfortable position. He put his arms under +his head and put his left leg over the back of the sofa. He felt +more comfortable. Meanwhile a pale light was more and more perceptible +at the windows, sleepy cocks crowed in the yard. Nikitin went on +thinking how he would come back from Petersburg, how Masha would +meet him at the station, and with a shriek of delight would fling +herself on his neck; or, better still, he would cheat her and come +home by stealth late at night: the cook would open the door, then +he would go on tiptoe to the bedroom, undress noiselessly, and jump +into bed! And she would wake up and be overjoyed. + +It was beginning to get quite light. By now there were no windows, +no study. On the steps of the brewery by which they had ridden that +day Masha was sitting, saying something. Then she took Nikitin by +the arm and went with him to the suburban garden. There he saw the +oaks and, the crows' nests like hats. One of the nests rocked; out +of it peeped Shebaldin, shouting loudly: "You have not read Lessing!" + +Nikitin shuddered all over and opened his eyes. Ippolit Ippolititch +was standing before the sofa, and throwing back his head, was putting +on his cravat. + +"Get up; it's time for school," he said. "You shouldn't sleep in +your clothes; it spoils your clothes. You should sleep in your bed, +undressed." + +And as usual he began slowly and emphatically saying what everybody +knew. + +Nikitin's first lesson was on Russian language in the second class. +When at nine o'clock punctually he went into the classroom, he saw +written on the blackboard two large letters--_M. S._ That, no +doubt, meant Masha Shelestov. + +"They've scented it out already, the rascals . . ." thought Nikitin. +"How is it they know everything?" + +The second lesson was in the fifth class. And there two letters, +_M. S._, were written on the blackboard; and when he went out of +the classroom at the end of the lesson, he heard the shout behind +him as though from a theatre gallery: + +"Hurrah for Masha Shelestov!" + +His head was heavy from sleeping in his clothes, his limbs were +weighted down with inertia. The boys, who were expecting every day +to break up before the examinations, did nothing, were restless, +and so bored that they got into mischief. Nikitin, too, was restless, +did not notice their pranks, and was continually going to the window. +He could see the street brilliantly lighted up with the sun; above +the houses the blue limpid sky, the birds, and far, far away, beyond +the gardens and the houses, vast indefinite distance, the forests +in the blue haze, the smoke from a passing train. . . . + +Here two officers in white tunics, playing with their whips, passed +in the street in the shade of the acacias. Here a lot of Jews, with +grey beards, and caps on, drove past in a waggonette. . . . The +governess walked by with the director's granddaughter. Som ran by +in the company of two other dogs. . . . And then Varya, wearing a +simple grey dress and red stockings, carrying the "Vyestnik Evropi" +in her hand, passed by. She must have been to the town library. . . . + +And it would be a long time before lessons were over at three +o'clock! And after school he could not go home nor to the Shelestovs', +but must go to give a lesson at Wolf's. This Wolf, a wealthy Jew +who had turned Lutheran, did not send his children to the high +school, but had them taught at home by the high-school masters, and +paid five roubles a lesson. + +He was bored, bored, bored. + +At three o'clock he went to Wolf's and spent there, as it seemed +to him, an eternity. He left there at five o'clock, and before seven +he had to be at the high school again to a meeting of the masters +--to draw up the plan for the _viva voce_ examination of the fourth +and sixth classes. + +When late in the evening he left the high school and went to the +Shelestovs', his heart was beating and his face was flushed. A month +before, even a week before, he had, every time that he made up his +mind to speak to her, prepared a whole speech, with an introduction +and a conclusion. Now he had not one word ready; everything was in +a muddle in his head, and all he knew was that today he would +_certainly_ declare himself, and that it was utterly impossible to +wait any longer. + +"I will ask her to come to the garden," he thought; "we'll walk +about a little and I'll speak." + +There was not a soul in the hall; he went into the dining-room and +then into the drawing-room. . . . There was no one there either. +He could hear Varya arguing with some one upstairs and the clink +of the dressmaker's scissors in the nursery. + +There was a little room in the house which had three names: the +little room, the passage room, and the dark room. There was a big +cupboard in it where they kept medicines, gunpowder, and their +hunting gear. Leading from this room to the first floor was a narrow +wooden staircase where cats were always asleep. There were two doors +in it--one leading to the nursery, one to the drawing-room. When +Nikitin went into this room to go upstairs, the door from the nursery +opened and shut with such a bang that it made the stairs and the +cupboard tremble; Masha, in a dark dress, ran in with a piece of +blue material in her hand, and, not noticing Nikitin, darted towards +the stairs. + +"Stay . . ." said Nikitin, stopping her. "Good-evening, Godefroi +. . . . Allow me. . . ." + +He gasped, he did not know what to say; with one hand he held her +hand and with the other the blue material. And she was half frightened, +half surprised, and looked at him with big eyes. + +"Allow me . . ." Nikitin went on, afraid she would go away. "There's +something I must say to you. . . . Only . . . it's inconvenient +here. I cannot, I am incapable. . . . Understand, Godefroi, I can't +--that's all . . . ." + +The blue material slipped on to the floor, and Nikitin took Masha +by the other hand. She turned pale, moved her lips, then stepped +back from Nikitin and found herself in the corner between the wall +and the cupboard. + +"On my honour, I assure you . . ." he said softly. "Masha, on my +honour. . . ." + +She threw back her head and he kissed her lips, and that the kiss +might last longer he put his fingers to her cheeks; and it somehow +happened that he found himself in the corner between the cupboard +and the wall, and she put her arms round his neck and pressed her +head against his chin. + +Then they both ran into the garden. The Shelestoys had a garden of +nine acres. There were about twenty old maples and lime-trees in +it; there was one fir-tree, and all the rest were fruit-trees: +cherries, apples, pears, horse-chestnuts, silvery olive-trees. . . . +There were heaps of flowers, too. + +Nikitin and Masha ran along the avenues in silence, laughed, asked +each other from time to time disconnected questions which they did +not answer. A crescent moon was shining over the garden, and drowsy +tulips and irises were stretching up from the dark grass in its +faint light, as though entreating for words of love for them, too. + +When Nikitin and Masha went back to the house, the officers and the +young ladies were already assembled and dancing the mazurka. Again +Polyansky led the grand chain through all the rooms, again after +dancing they played "fate." Before supper, when the visitors had +gone into the dining-room, Masha, left alone with Nikitin, pressed +close to him and said: + +"You must speak to papa and Varya yourself; I am ashamed." + +After supper he talked to the old father. After listening to him, +Shelestov thought a little and said: + +"I am very grateful for the honour you do me and my daughter, but +let me speak to you as a friend. I will speak to you, not as a +father, but as one gentleman to another. Tell me, why do you want +to be married so young? Only peasants are married so young, and +that, of course, is loutishness. But why should you? Where's the +satisfaction of putting on the fetters at your age?" + +"I am not young!" said Nikitin, offended. "I am in my twenty-seventh +year." + +"Papa, the farrier has come!" cried Varya from the other room. + +And the conversation broke off. Varya, Masha, and Polyansky saw +Nikitin home. When they reached his gate, Varya said: + +"Why is it your mysterious Metropolit Metropolititch never shows +himself anywhere? He might come and see us." + +The mysterious Ippolit Ippolititch was sitting on his bed, taking +off his trousers, when Nikitin went in to him. + +"Don't go to bed, my dear fellow," said Nikitin breathlessly. "Stop +a minute; don't go to bed!" + +Ippolit Ippolititch put on his trousers hurriedly and asked in a +flutter: + +"What is it?" + +"I am going to be married." + +Nikitin sat down beside his companion, and looking at him wonderingly, +as though surprised at himself, said: + +"Only fancy, I am going to be married! To Masha Shelestov! I made +an offer today." + +"Well? She seems a good sort of girl. Only she is very young." + +"Yes, she is young," sighed Nikitin, and shrugged his shoulders +with a careworn air. "Very, very young!" + +"She was my pupil at the high school. I know her. She wasn't bad +at geography, but she was no good at history. And she was inattentive +in class, too." + +Nikitin for some reason felt suddenly sorry for his companion, and +longed to say something kind and comforting to him. + +"My dear fellow, why don't you get married?" he asked. "Why don't +you marry Varya, for instance? She is a splendid, first-rate girl! +It's true she is very fond of arguing, but a heart . . . what a +heart! She was just asking about you. Marry her, my dear boy! Eh?" + +He knew perfectly well that Varya would not marry this dull, +snub-nosed man, but still persuaded him to marry her--why? + +"Marriage is a serious step," said Ippolit Ippolititch after a +moment's thought. "One has to look at it all round and weigh things +thoroughly; it's not to be done rashly. Prudence is always a good +thing, and especially in marriage, when a man, ceasing to be a +bachelor, begins a new life." + +And he talked of what every one has known for ages. Nikitin did not +stay to listen, said goodnight, and went to his own room. He undressed +quickly and quickly got into bed, in order to be able to think the +sooner of his happiness, of Masha, of the future; he smiled, then +suddenly recalled that he had not read Lessing. + +"I must read him," he thought. "Though, after all, why should I? +Bother him!" + +And exhausted by his happiness, he fell asleep at once and went on +smiling till the morning. + +He dreamed of the thud of horses' hoofs on a wooden floor; he dreamed +of the black horse Count Nulin, then of the white Giant and its +sister Maika, being led out of the stable. + +II + +"It was very crowded and noisy in the church, and once some one +cried out, and the head priest, who was marrying Masha and me, +looked through his spectacles at the crowd, and said severely: +'Don't move about the church, and don't make a noise, but stand +quietly and pray. You should have the fear of God in your hearts.' + +"My best men were two of my colleagues, and Masha's best men were +Captain Polyansky and Lieutenant Gernet. The bishop's choir sang +superbly. The sputtering of the candles, the brilliant light, the +gorgeous dresses, the officers, the numbers of gay, happy faces, +and a special ethereal look in Masha, everything together--the +surroundings and the words of the wedding prayers--moved me to +tears and filled me with triumph. I thought how my life had blossomed, +how poetically it was shaping itself! Two years ago I was still a +student, I was living in cheap furnished rooms, without money, +without relations, and, as I fancied then, with nothing to look +forward to. Now I am a teacher in the high school in one of the +best provincial towns, with a secure income, loved, spoiled. It is +for my sake, I thought, this crowd is collected, for my sake three +candelabra have been lighted, the deacon is booming, the choir is +doing its best; and it's for my sake that this young creature, whom +I soon shall call my wife, is so young, so elegant, and so joyful. +I recalled our first meetings, our rides into the country, my +declaration of love and the weather, which, as though expressly, +was so exquisitely fine all the summer; and the happiness which at +one time in my old rooms seemed to me possible only in novels and +stories, I was now experiencing in reality--I was now, as it were, +holding it in my hands. + +"After the ceremony they all crowded in disorder round Masha and +me, expressed their genuine pleasure, congratulated us and wished +us joy. The brigadier-general, an old man of seventy, confined +himself to congratulating Masha, and said to her in a squeaky, aged +voice, so loud that it could be heard all over the church: + +"'I hope that even after you are married you may remain the rose +you are now, my dear.' + +"The officers, the director, and all the teachers smiled from +politeness, and I was conscious of an agreeable artificial smile +on my face, too. Dear Ippolit Ippolititch, the teacher of history +and geography, who always says what every one has heard before, +pressed my hand warmly and said with feeling: + +"'Hitherto you have been unmarried and have lived alone, and now +you are married and no longer single.' + +"From the church we went to a two-storied house which I am receiving +as part of the dowry. Besides that house Masha is bringing me twenty +thousand roubles, as well as a piece of waste land with a shanty +on it, where I am told there are numbers of hens and ducks which +are not looked after and are turning wild. When I got home from the +church, I stretched myself at full length on the low sofa in my new +study and began to smoke; I felt snug, cosy, and comfortable, as I +never had in my life before. And meanwhile the wedding party were +shouting 'Hurrah!' while a wretched band in the hall played flourishes +and all sorts of trash. Varya, Masha's sister, ran into the study +with a wineglass in her hand, and with a queer, strained expression, +as though her mouth were full of water; apparently she had meant +to go on further, but she suddenly burst out laughing and sobbing, +and the wineglass crashed on the floor. We took her by the arms and +led her away. + +"'Nobody can understand!' she muttered afterwards, lying on the +old nurse's bed in a back room. 'Nobody, nobody! My God, nobody can +understand!' + +"But every one understood very well that she was four years older +than her sister Masha, and still unmarried, and that she was crying, +not from envy, but from the melancholy consciousness that her time +was passing, and perhaps had passed. When they danced the quadrille, +she was back in the drawing-room with a tear-stained and heavily +powdered face, and I saw Captain Polyansky holding a plate of ice +before her while she ate it with a spoon. + +"It is past five o'clock in the morning. I took up my diary to +describe my complete and perfect happiness, and thought I would +write a good six pages, and read it tomorrow to Masha; but, strange +to say, everything is muddled in my head and as misty as a dream, +and I can remember vividly nothing but that episode with Varya, and +I want to write, 'Poor Varya!' I could go on sitting here and writing +'Poor Varya!' By the way, the trees have begun rustling; it will +rain. The crows are cawing, and my Masha, who has just gone to +sleep, has for some reason a sorrowful face." + +For a long while afterwards Nikitin did not write his diary. At the +beginning of August he had the school examinations, and after the +fifteenth the classes began. As a rule he set off for school before +nine in the morning, and before ten o'clock he was looking at his +watch and pining for his Masha and his new house. In the lower forms +he would set some boy to dictate, and while the boys were writing, +would sit in the window with his eyes shut, dreaming; whether he +dreamed of the future or recalled the past, everything seemed to +him equally delightful, like a fairy tale. In the senior classes +they were reading aloud Gogol or Pushkin's prose works, and that +made him sleepy; people, trees, fields, horses, rose before his +imagination, and he would say with a sigh, as though fascinated by +the author: + +"How lovely!" + +At the midday recess Masha used to send him lunch in a snow-white +napkin, and he would eat it slowly, with pauses, to prolong the +enjoyment of it; and Ippolit Ippolititch, whose lunch as a rule +consisted of nothing but bread, looked at him with respect and envy, +and gave expression to some familiar fact, such as: + +"Men cannot live without food." + +After school Nikitin went straight to give his private lessons, and +when at last by six o'clock he got home, he felt excited and anxious, +as though he had been away for a year. He would run upstairs +breathless, find Masha, throw his arms round her, and kiss her and +swear that he loved her, that he could not live without her, declare +that he had missed her fearfully, and ask her in trepidation how +she was and why she looked so depressed. Then they would dine +together. After dinner he would lie on the sofa in his study and +smoke, while she sat beside him and talked in a low voice. + +His happiest days now were Sundays and holidays, when he was at +home from morning till evening. On those days he took part in the +naive but extraordinarily pleasant life which reminded him of a +pastoral idyl. He was never weary of watching how his sensible and +practical Masha was arranging her nest, and anxious to show that +he was of some use in the house, he would do something useless-- +for instance, bring the chaise out of the stable and look at it +from every side. Masha had installed a regular dairy with three +cows, and in her cellar she had many jugs of milk and pots of sour +cream, and she kept it all for butter. Sometimes, by way of a joke, +Nikitin would ask her for a glass of milk, and she would be quite +upset because it was against her rules; but he would laugh and throw +his arms round her, saying: + +"There, there; I was joking, my darling! I was joking!" + +Or he would laugh at her strictness when, finding in the cupboard +some stale bit of cheese or sausage as hard as a stone, she would +say seriously: + +"They will eat that in the kitchen." + +He would observe that such a scrap was only fit for a mousetrap, +and she would reply warmly that men knew nothing about housekeeping, +and that it was just the same to the servants if you were to send +down a hundredweight of savouries to the kitchen. He would agree, +and embrace her enthusiastically. Everything that was just in what +she said seemed to him extraordinary and amazing; and what did not +fit in with his convictions seemed to him naive and touching. + +Sometimes he was in a philosophical mood, and he would begin to +discuss some abstract subject while she listened and looked at his +face with curiosity. + +"I am immensely happy with you, my joy," he used to say, playing +with her fingers or plaiting and unplaiting her hair. "But I don't +look upon this happiness of mine as something that has come to me +by chance, as though it had dropped from heaven. This happiness is +a perfectly natural, consistent, logical consequence. I believe +that man is the creator of his own happiness, and now I am enjoying +just what I have myself created. Yes, I speak without false modesty: +I have created this happiness myself and I have a right to it. You +know my past. My unhappy childhood, without father or mother; my +depressing youth, poverty--all this was a struggle, all this was +the path by which I made my way to happiness. . . ." + +In October the school sustained a heavy loss: Ippolit Ippolititch +was taken ill with erysipelas on the head and died. For two days +before his death he was unconscious and delirious, but even in his +delirium he said nothing that was not perfectly well known to every +one. + +"The Volga flows into the Caspian Sea. . . . Horses eat oats and +hay. . . ." + +There were no lessons at the high school on the day of his funeral. +His colleagues and pupils were the coffin-bearers, and the school +choir sang all the way to the grave the anthem "Holy God." Three +priests, two deacons, all his pupils and the staff of the boys' +high school, and the bishop's choir in their best kaftans, took +part in the procession. And passers-by who met the solemn procession, +crossed themselves and said: + +"God grant us all such a death." + +Returning home from the cemetery much moved, Nikitin got out his +diary from the table and wrote: + +"We have just consigned to the tomb Ippolit Ippolititch Ryzhitsky. +Peace to your ashes, modest worker! Masha, Varya, and all the women +at the funeral, wept from genuine feeling, perhaps because they +knew this uninteresting, humble man had never been loved by a woman. +I wanted to say a warm word at my colleague's grave, but I was +warned that this might displease the director, as he did not like +our poor friend. I believe that this is the first day since my +marriage that my heart has been heavy." + +There was no other event of note in the scholastic year. + +The winter was mild, with wet snow and no frost; on Epiphany Eve, +for instance, the wind howled all night as though it were autumn, +and water trickled off the roofs; and in the morning, at the ceremony +of the blessing of the water, the police allowed no one to go on +the river, because they said the ice was swelling up and looked +dark. But in spite of bad weather Nikitin's life was as happy as +in summer. And, indeed, he acquired another source of pleasure; he +learned to play _vint_. Only one thing troubled him, moved him to +anger, and seemed to prevent him from being perfectly happy: the +cats and dogs which formed part of his wife's dowry. The rooms, +especially in the morning, always smelt like a menagerie, and nothing +could destroy the odour; the cats frequently fought with the dogs. +The spiteful beast Mushka was fed a dozen times a day; she still +refused to recognize Nikitin and growled at him: "Rrr . . . +nga-nga-nga!" + +One night in Lent he was returning home from the club where he had +been playing cards. It was dark, raining, and muddy. Nikitin had +an unpleasant feeling at the bottom of his heart and could not +account for it. He did not know whether it was because he had lost +twelve roubles at cards, or whether because one of the players, +when they were settling up, had said that of course Nikitin had +pots of money, with obvious reference to his wife's portion. He did +not regret the twelve roubles, and there was nothing offensive in +what had been said; but, still, there was the unpleasant feeling. +He did not even feel a desire to go home. + +"Foo, how horrid!" he said, standing still at a lamp-post. + +It occurred to him that he did not regret the twelve roubles because +he got them for nothing. If he had been a working man he would have +known the value of every farthing, and would not have been so +careless whether he lost or won. And his good-fortune had all, he +reflected, come to him by chance, for nothing, and really was as +superfluous for him as medicine for the healthy. If, like the vast +majority of people, he had been harassed by anxiety for his daily +bread, had been struggling for existence, if his back and chest had +ached from work, then supper, a warm snug home, and domestic +happiness, would have been the necessity, the compensation, the +crown of his life; as it was, all this had a strange, indefinite +significance for him. + +"Foo, how horrid!" he repeated, knowing perfectly well that these +reflections were in themselves a bad sign. + +When he got home Masha was in bed: she was breathing evenly and +smiling, and was evidently sleeping with great enjoyment. Near her +the white cat lay curled up, purring. While Nikitin lit the candle +and lighted his cigarette, Masha woke up and greedily drank a glass +of water. + +"I ate too many sweets," she said, and laughed. "Have you been +home?" she asked after a pause. + +"No." + +Nikitin knew already that Captain Polyansky, on whom Varya had been +building great hopes of late, was being transferred to one of the +western provinces, and was already making his farewell visits in +the town, and so it was depressing at his father-in-law's. + +"Varya looked in this evening," said Masha, sitting up. "She did +not say anything, but one could see from her face how wretched she +is, poor darling! I can't bear Polyansky. He is fat and bloated, +and when he walks or dances his cheeks shake. . . . He is not a man +I would choose. But, still, I did think he was a decent person." + +"I think he is a decent person now," said Nikitin. + +"Then why has he treated Varya so badly?" + +"Why badly?" asked Nikitin, beginning to feel irritation against +the white cat, who was stretching and arching its back. "As far as +I know, he has made no proposal and has given her no promises." + +"Then why was he so often at the house? If he didn't mean to marry +her, he oughtn't to have come." + +Nikitin put out the candle and got into bed. But he felt disinclined +to lie down and to sleep. He felt as though his head were immense +and empty as a barn, and that new, peculiar thoughts were wandering +about in it like tall shadows. He thought that, apart from the soft +light of the ikon lamp, that beamed upon their quiet domestic +happiness, that apart from this little world in which he and this +cat lived so peacefully and happily, there was another world. . . . +And he had a passionate, poignant longing to be in that other +world, to work himself at some factory or big workshop, to address +big audiences, to write, to publish, to raise a stir, to exhaust +himself, to suffer. . . . He wanted something that would engross +him till he forgot himself, ceased to care for the personal happiness +which yielded him only sensations so monotonous. And suddenly there +rose vividly before his imagination the figure of Shebaldin with +his clean-shaven face, saying to him with horror: "You haven't even +read Lessing! You are quite behind the times! How you have gone to +seed!" + +Masha woke up and again drank some water. He glanced at her neck, +at her plump shoulders and throat, and remembered the word the +brigadier-general had used in church--"rose." + +"Rose," he muttered, and laughed. + +His laugh was answered by a sleepy growl from Mushka under the bed: +"Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga . . . !" + +A heavy anger sank like a cold weight on his heart, and he felt +tempted to say something rude to Masha, and even to jump up and hit +her; his heart began throbbing. + +"So then," he asked, restraining himself, "since I went to your +house, I was bound in duty to marry you?" + +"Of course. You know that very well." + +"That's nice." And a minute later he repeated: "That's nice." + +To relieve the throbbing of his heart, and to avoid saying too much, +Nikitin went to his study and lay down on the sofa, without a pillow; +then he lay on the floor on the carpet. + +"What nonsense it is!" he said to reassure himself. "You are a +teacher, you are working in the noblest of callings. . . . What +need have you of any other world? What rubbish!" + +But almost immediately he told himself with conviction that he was +not a real teacher, but simply a government employe, as commonplace +and mediocre as the Czech who taught Greek. He had never had a +vocation for teaching, he knew nothing of the theory of teaching, +and never had been interested in the subject; he did not know how +to treat children; he did not understand the significance of what +he taught, and perhaps did not teach the right things. Poor Ippolit +Ippolititch had been frankly stupid, and all the boys, as well as +his colleagues, knew what he was and what to expect from him; but +he, Nikitin, like the Czech, knew how to conceal his stupidity and +cleverly deceived every one by pretending that, thank God, his +teaching was a success. These new ideas frightened Nikitin; he +rejected them, called them stupid, and believed that all this was +due to his nerves, that he would laugh at himself. + +And he did, in fact, by the morning laugh at himself and call himself +an old woman; but it was clear to him that his peace of mind was +lost, perhaps, for ever, and that in that little two-story house +happiness was henceforth impossible for him. He realized that the +illusion had evaporated, and that a new life of unrest and clear +sight was beginning which was incompatible with peace and personal +happiness. + +Next day, which was Sunday, he was at the school chapel, and there +met his colleagues and the director. It seemed to him that they +were entirely preoccupied with concealing their ignorance and +discontent with life, and he, too, to conceal his uneasiness, smiled +affably and talked of trivialities. Then he went to the station and +saw the mail train come in and go out, and it was agreeable to him +to be alone and not to have to talk to any one. + +At home he found Varya and his father-in-law, who had come to dinner. +Varya's eyes were red with crying, and she complained of a headache, +while Shelestov ate a great deal, saying that young men nowadays +were unreliable, and that there was very little gentlemanly feeling +among them. + +"It's loutishness!" he said. "I shall tell him so to his face: 'It's +loutishness, sir,' I shall say." + +Nikitin smiled affably and helped Masha to look after their guests, +but after dinner he went to his study and shut the door. + +The March sun was shining brightly in at the windows and shedding +its warm rays on the table. It was only the twentieth of the month, +but already the cabmen were driving with wheels, and the starlings +were noisy in the garden. It was just the weather in which Masha +would come in, put one arm round his neck, tell him the horses were +saddled or the chaise was at the door, and ask him what she should +put on to keep warm. Spring was beginning as exquisitely as last +spring, and it promised the same joys. . . . But Nikitin was thinking +that it would be nice to take a holiday and go to Moscow, and stay +at his old lodgings there. In the next room they were drinking +coffee and talking of Captain Polyansky, while he tried not to +listen and wrote in his diary: "Where am I, my God? I am surrounded +by vulgarity and vulgarity. Wearisome, insignificant people, pots +of sour cream, jugs of milk, cockroaches, stupid women. . . . There +is nothing more terrible, mortifying, and distressing than vulgarity. +I must escape from here, I must escape today, or I shall go out of +my mind!" + + +NOT WANTED + +BETWEEN six and seven o'clock on a July evening, a crowd of summer +visitors--mostly fathers of families--burdened with parcels, +portfolios, and ladies' hat-boxes, was trailing along from the +little station of Helkovo, in the direction of the summer villas. +They all looked exhausted, hungry, and ill-humoured, as though the +sun were not shining and the grass were not green for them. + +Trudging along among the others was Pavel Matveyitch Zaikin, a +member of the Circuit Court, a tall, stooping man, in a cheap cotton +dust-coat and with a cockade on his faded cap. He was perspiring, +red in the face, and gloomy. . . . + +"Do you come out to your holiday home every day?" said a summer +visitor, in ginger-coloured trousers, addressing him. + +"No, not every day," Zaikin answered sullenly. "My wife and son are +staying here all the while, and I come down two or three times a +week. I haven't time to come every day; besides, it is expensive." + +"You're right there; it is expensive," sighed he of the ginger +trousers. "In town you can't walk to the station, you have to take +a cab; and then, the ticket costs forty-two kopecks; you buy a paper +for the journey; one is tempted to drink a glass of vodka. It's all +petty expenditure not worth considering, but, mind you, in the +course of the summer it will run up to some two hundred roubles. +Of course, to be in the lap of Nature is worth any money--I don't +dispute it . . . idyllic and all the rest of it; but of course, +with the salary an official gets, as you know yourself, every +farthing has to be considered. If you waste a halfpenny you lie +awake all night. . . . Yes. . . I receive, my dear sir--I haven't +the honour of knowing your name--I receive a salary of very nearly +two thousand roubles a year. I am a civil councillor, I smoke +second-rate tobacco, and I haven't a rouble to spare to buy Vichy +water, prescribed me by the doctor for gall-stones." + +"It's altogether abominable," said Zaikin after a brief silence. +"I maintain, sir, that summer holidays are the invention of the +devil and of woman. The devil was actuated in the present instance +by malice, woman by excessive frivolity. Mercy on us, it is not +life at all; it is hard labour, it is hell! It's hot and stifling, +you can hardly breathe, and you wander about like a lost soul and +can find no refuge. In town there is no furniture, no servants. . . +everything has been carried off to the villa: you eat what you +can get; you go without your tea because there is no one to heat +the samovar; you can't wash yourself; and when you come down here +into this 'lap of Nature' you have to walk, if you please, through +the dust and heat. . . . Phew! Are you married?" + +"Yes. . . three children," sighs Ginger Trousers. + +"It's abominable altogether. . . . It's a wonder we are still alive." + +At last the summer visitors reached their destination. Zaikin said +good-bye to Ginger Trousers and went into his villa. He found a +death-like silence in the house. He could hear nothing but the +buzzing of the gnats, and the prayer for help of a fly destined for +the dinner of a spider. The windows were hung with muslin curtains, +through which the faded flowers of the geraniums showed red. On the +unpainted wooden walls near the oleographs flies were slumbering. +There was not a soul in the passage, the kitchen, or the dining-room. +In the room which was called indifferently the parlour or the +drawing-room, Zaikin found his son Petya, a little boy of six. Petya +was sitting at the table, and breathing loudly with his lower lip +stuck out, was engaged in cutting out the figure of a knave of +diamonds from a card. + +"Oh, that's you, father!" he said, without turning round. "Good-evening." + +"Good-evening. . . . And where is mother?" + +"Mother? She is gone with Olga Kirillovna to a rehearsal of the +play. The day after tomorrow they will have a performance. And they +will take me, too. . . . And will you go?" + +"H'm! . . . When is she coming back?" + +"She said she would be back in the evening." + +"And where is Natalya?" + +"Mamma took Natalya with her to help her dress for the performance, +and Akulina has gone to the wood to get mushrooms. Father, why is +it that when gnats bite you their stomachs get red?" + +"I don't know. . . . Because they suck blood. So there is no one +in the house, then?" + +"No one; I am all alone in the house." + +Zaikin sat down in an easy-chair, and for a moment gazed blankly +at the window. + +"Who is going to get our dinner?" he asked. + +"They haven't cooked any dinner today, father. Mamma thought you +were not coming today, and did not order any dinner. She is going +to have dinner with Olga Kirillovna at the rehearsal." + +"Oh, thank you very much; and you, what have you to eat?" + +"I've had some milk. They bought me six kopecks' worth of milk. +And, father, why do gnats suck blood?" + +Zaikin suddenly felt as though something heavy were rolling down +on his liver and beginning to gnaw it. He felt so vexed, so aggrieved, +and so bitter, that he was choking and tremulous; he wanted to jump +up, to bang something on the floor, and to burst into loud abuse; +but then he remembered that his doctor had absolutely forbidden him +all excitement, so he got up, and making an effort to control +himself, began whistling a tune from "Les Huguenots." + +"Father, can you act in plays?" he heard Petya's voice. + +"Oh, don't worry me with stupid questions!" said Zaikin, getting +angry. "He sticks to one like a leaf in the bath! Here you are, six +years old, and just as silly as you were three years ago. . . . +Stupid, neglected child! Why are you spoiling those cards, for +instance? How dare you spoil them?" + +"These cards aren't yours," said Petya, turning round. "Natalya +gave them me." + +"You are telling fibs, you are telling fibs, you horrid boy!" said +Zaikin, growing more and more irritated. "You are always telling +fibs! You want a whipping, you horrid little pig! I will pull your +ears!" + +Petya leapt up, and craning his neck, stared fixedly at his father's +red and wrathful face. His big eyes first began blinking, then were +dimmed with moisture, and the boy's face began working. + +"But why are you scolding?" squealed Petya. "Why do you attack me, +you stupid? I am not interfering with anybody; I am not naughty; I +do what I am told, and yet . . . you are cross! Why are you scolding +me?" + +The boy spoke with conviction, and wept so bitterly that Zaikin +felt conscience-stricken. + +"Yes, really, why am I falling foul of him?" he thought. "Come, +come," he said, touching the boy on the shoulder. "I am sorry, Petya +. . . forgive me. You are my good boy, my nice boy, I love you." + +Petya wiped his eyes with his sleeve, sat down, with a sigh, in the +same place and began cutting out the queen. Zaikin went off to his +own room. He stretched himself on the sofa, and putting his hands +behind his head, sank into thought. The boy's tears had softened +his anger, and by degrees the oppression on his liver grew less. +He felt nothing but exhaustion and hunger. + +"Father," he heard on the other side of the door, "shall I show you +my collection of insects?" + +"Yes, show me." + +Petya came into the study and handed his father a long green box. +Before raising it to his ear Zaikin could hear a despairing buzz +and the scratching of claws on the sides of the box. Opening the +lid, he saw a number of butterflies, beetles, grasshoppers, and +flies fastened to the bottom of the box with pins. All except two +or three butterflies were still alive and moving. + +"Why, the grasshopper is still alive!" said Petya in surprise. "I +caught him yesterday morning, and he is still alive!" + +"Who taught you to pin them in this way?" + +"Olga Kirillovna." + +"Olga Kirillovna ought to be pinned down like that herself!" said +Zaikin with repulsion. "Take them away! It's shameful to torture +animals." + +"My God! How horribly he is being brought up!" he thought, as Petya +went out. + +Pavel Matveyitch forgot his exhaustion and hunger, and thought of +nothing but his boy's future. Meanwhile, outside the light was +gradually fading. . . . He could hear the summer visitors trooping +back from the evening bathe. Some one was stopping near the open +dining-room window and shouting: "Do you want any mushrooms?" And +getting no answer, shuffled on with bare feet. . . . But at last, +when the dusk was so thick that the outlines of the geraniums behind +the muslin curtain were lost, and whiffs of the freshness of evening +were coming in at the window, the door of the passage was thrown +open noisily, and there came a sound of rapid footsteps, talk, and +laughter. . . . + +"Mamma!" shrieked Petya. + +Zaikin peeped out of his study and saw his wife, Nadyezhda Stepanovna, +healthy and rosy as ever; with her he saw Olga Kirillovna, a spare +woman with fair hair and heavy freckles, and two unknown men: one +a lanky young man with curly red hair and a big Adam's apple; the +other, a short stubby man with a shaven face like an actor's and a +bluish crooked chin. + +"Natalya, set the samovar," cried Nadyezhda Stepanovna, with a loud +rustle of her skirts. "I hear Pavel Matveyitch is come. Pavel, where +are you? Good-evening, Pavel!" she said, running into the study +breathlessly. "So you've come. I am so glad. . . . Two of our +amateurs have come with me. . . . Come, I'll introduce you. . . . +Here, the taller one is Koromyslov . . . he sings splendidly; and +the other, the little one . . . is called Smerkalov: he is a real +actor . . . he recites magnificently. Oh, how tired I am! We have +just had a rehearsal. . . . It goes splendidly. We are acting 'The +Lodger with the Trombone' and 'Waiting for Him.' . . . The performance +is the day after tomorrow. . . ." + +"Why did you bring them?" asked Zaikin. + +"I couldn't help it, Poppet; after tea we must rehearse our parts +and sing something. . . . I am to sing a duet with Koromyslov. . . . +Oh, yes, I was almost forgetting! Darling, send Natalya to get +some sardines, vodka, cheese, and something else. They will most +likely stay to supper. . . . Oh, how tired I am!" + +"H'm! I've no money." + +"You must, Poppet! It would be awkward! Don't make me blush." + +Half an hour later Natalya was sent for vodka and savouries; Zaikin, +after drinking tea and eating a whole French loaf, went to his +bedroom and lay down on the bed, while Nadyezhda Stepanovna and her +visitors, with much noise and laughter, set to work to rehearse +their parts. For a long time Pavel Matveyitch heard Koromyslov's +nasal reciting and Smerkalov's theatrical exclamations. . . . The +rehearsal was followed by a long conversation, interrupted by the +shrill laughter of Olga Kirillovna. Smerkalov, as a real actor, +explained the parts with aplomb and heat. . . . + +Then followed the duet, and after the duet there was the clatter +of crockery. . . . Through his drowsiness Zaikin heard them persuading +Smerkalov to read "The Woman who was a Sinner," and heard him, after +affecting to refuse, begin to recite. He hissed, beat himself on +the breast, wept, laughed in a husky bass. . . . Zaikin scowled and +hid his head under the quilt. + +"It's a long way for you to go, and it's dark," he heard Nadyezhda +Stepanovna's voice an hour later. "Why shouldn't you stay the night +here? Koromyslov can sleep here in the drawing-room on the sofa, +and you, Smerkalov, in Petya's bed. . . . I can put Petya in my +husband's study. . . . Do stay, really!" + +At last when the clock was striking two, all was hushed, the bedroom +door opened, and Nadyezhda Stepanovna appeared. + +"Pavel, are you asleep?" she whispered. + +"No; why?" + +"Go into your study, darling, and lie on the sofa. I am going to +put Olga Kirillovna here, in your bed. Do go, dear! I would put her +to sleep in the study, but she is afraid to sleep alone. . . . Do +get up!" + +Zaikin got up, threw on his dressing-gown, and taking his pillow, +crept wearily to the study. . . . Feeling his way to his sofa, he +lighted a match, and saw Petya lying on the sofa. The boy was not +asleep, and, looking at the match with wide-open eyes: + +"Father, why is it gnats don't go to sleep at night?" he asked. + +"Because . . . because . . . you and I are not wanted. . . . We +have nowhere to sleep even." + +"Father, and why is it Olga Kirillovna has freckles on her face?" + +"Oh, shut up! I am tired of you." + +After a moment's thought, Zaikin dressed and went out into the +street for a breath of air. . . . He looked at the grey morning +sky, at the motionless clouds, heard the lazy call of the drowsy +corncrake, and began dreaming of the next day, when he would go to +town, and coming back from the court would tumble into bed. . . . +Suddenly the figure of a man appeared round the corner. + +"A watchman, no doubt," thought Zaikin. But going nearer and looking +more closely he recognized in the figure the summer visitor in the +ginger trousers. + +"You're not asleep?" he asked. + +"No, I can't sleep," sighed Ginger Trousers. "I am enjoying Nature +. . . . A welcome visitor, my wife's mother, arrived by the night +train, you know. She brought with her our nieces . . . splendid +girls! I was delighted to see them, although . . . it's very damp! +And you, too, are enjoying Nature?" + +"Yes," grunted Zaikin, "I am enjoying it, too. . . . Do you know +whether there is any sort of tavern or restaurant in the neighbourhood?" + +Ginger Trousers raised his eyes to heaven and meditated profoundly. + + +TYPHUS + +A YOUNG lieutenant called Klimov was travelling from Petersburg to +Moscow in a smoking carriage of the mail train. Opposite him was +sitting an elderly man with a shaven face like a sea captain's, by +all appearances a well-to-do Finn or Swede. He pulled at his pipe +the whole journey and kept talking about the same subject: + +"Ha, you are an officer! I have a brother an officer too, only he +is a naval officer. . . . He is a naval officer, and he is stationed +at Kronstadt. Why are you going to Moscow?" + +"I am serving there." + +"Ha! And are you a family man?" + +"No, I live with my sister and aunt." + +"My brother's an officer, only he is a naval officer; he has a wife +and three children. Ha!" + +The Finn seemed continually surprised at something, and gave a broad +idiotic grin when he exclaimed "Ha!" and continually puffed at his +stinking pipe. Klimov, who for some reason did not feel well, and +found it burdensome to answer questions, hated him with all his +heart. He dreamed of how nice it would be to snatch the wheezing +pipe out of his hand and fling it under the seat, and drive the +Finn himself into another compartment. + +"Detestable people these Finns and . . . Greeks," he thought. +"Absolutely superfluous, useless, detestable people. They simply +fill up space on the earthly globe. What are they for?" + +And the thought of Finns and Greeks produced a feeling akin to +sickness all over his body. For the sake of comparison he tried to +think of the French, of the Italians, but his efforts to think of +these people evoked in his mind, for some reason, nothing but images +of organ-grinders, naked women, and the foreign oleographs which +hung over the chest of drawers at home, at his aunt's. + +Altogether the officer felt in an abnormal state. He could not +arrange his arms and legs comfortably on the seat, though he had +the whole seat to himself. His mouth felt dry and sticky; there was +a heavy fog in his brain; his thoughts seemed to be straying, not +only within his head, but outside his skull, among the seats and +the people that were shrouded in the darkness of night. Through the +mist in his brain, as through a dream, he heard the murmur of voices, +the rumble of wheels, the slamming of doors. The sounds of the +bells, the whistles, the guards, the running to and fro of passengers +on the platforms, seemed more frequent than usual. The time flew +by rapidly, imperceptibly, and so it seemed as though the train +were stopping at stations every minute, and metallic voices crying +continually: + +"Is the mail ready?" + +"Yes!" was repeatedly coming from outside. + +It seemed as though the man in charge of the heating came in too +often to look at the thermometer, that the noise of trains going +in the opposite direction and the rumble of the wheels over the +bridges was incessant. The noise, the whistles, the Finn, the tobacco +smoke--all this mingling with the menace and flickering of the +misty images in his brain, the shape and character of which a man +in health can never recall, weighed upon Klimov like an unbearable +nightmare. In horrible misery he lifted his heavy head, looked at +the lamp in the rays of which shadows and misty blurs seemed to be +dancing. He wanted to ask for water, but his parched tongue would +hardly move, and he scarcely had strength to answer the Finn's +questions. He tried to lie down more comfortably and go to sleep, +but he could not succeed. The Finn several times fell asleep, woke +up again, lighted his pipe, addressed him with his "Ha!" and went +to sleep again; and still the lieutenant's legs could not get into +a comfortable position, and still the menacing images stood facing +him. + +At Spirovo he went out into the station for a drink of water. He +saw people sitting at the table and hurriedly eating. + +"And how can they eat!" he thought, trying not to sniff the air, +that smelt of roast meat, and not to look at the munching mouths +--they both seemed to him sickeningly disgusting. + +A good-looking lady was conversing loudly with a military man in a +red cap, and showing magnificent white teeth as she smiled; and the +smile, and the teeth, and the lady herself made on Klimov the same +revolting impression as the ham and the rissoles. He could not +understand how it was the military man in the red cap was not ill +at ease, sitting beside her and looking at her healthy, smiling +face. + +When after drinking some water he went back to his carriage, the +Finn was sitting smoking; his pipe was wheezing and squelching like +a golosh with holes in it in wet weather. + +"Ha!" he said, surprised; "what station is this?" + +"I don't know," answered Klimov, lying down and shutting his mouth +that he might not breathe the acrid tobacco smoke. + +"And when shall we reach Tver?" + +"I don't know. Excuse me, I . . . I can't answer. I am ill. I caught +cold today." + +The Finn knocked his pipe against the window-frame and began talking +of his brother, the naval officer. Klimov no longer heard him; he +was thinking miserably of his soft, comfortable bed, of a bottle +of cold water, of his sister Katya, who was so good at making one +comfortable, soothing, giving one water. He even smiled when the +vision of his orderly Pavel, taking off his heavy stifling boots +and putting water on the little table, flitted through his imagination. +He fancied that if he could only get into his bed, have a drink of +water, his nightmare would give place to sound healthy sleep. + +"Is the mail ready?" a hollow voice reached him from the distance. + +"Yes," answered a bass voice almost at the window. + +It was already the second or third station from Spirovo. + +The time was flying rapidly in leaps and bounds, and it seemed as +though the bells, whistles, and stoppings would never end. In despair +Klimov buried his face in the corner of the seat, clutched his head +in his hands, and began again thinking of his sister Katya and his +orderly Pavel, but his sister and his orderly were mixed up with +the misty images in his brain, whirled round, and disappeared. His +burning breath, reflected from the back of the seat, seemed to scald +his face; his legs were uncomfortable; there was a draught from the +window on his back; but, however wretched he was, he did not want +to change his position. . . . A heavy nightmarish lethargy gradually +gained possession of him and fettered his limbs. + +When he brought himself to raise his head, it was already light in +the carriage. The passengers were putting on their fur coats and +moving about. The train was stopping. Porters in white aprons and +with discs on their breasts were bustling among the passengers and +snatching up their boxes. Klimov put on his great-coat, mechanically +followed the other passengers out of the carriage, and it seemed +to him that not he, but some one else was moving, and he felt that +his fever, his thirst, and the menacing images which had not let +him sleep all night, came out of the carriage with him. Mechanically +he took his luggage and engaged a sledge-driver. The man asked him +for a rouble and a quarter to drive to Povarsky Street, but he did +not haggle, and without protest got submissively into the sledge. +He still understood the difference of numbers, but money had ceased +to have any value to him. + +At home Klimov was met by his aunt and his sister Katya, a girl of +eighteen. When Katya greeted him she had a pencil and exercise book +in her hand, and he remembered that she was preparing for an +examination as a teacher. Gasping with fever, he walked aimlessly +through all the rooms without answering their questions or greetings, +and when he reached his bed he sank down on the pillow. The Finn, +the red cap, the lady with the white teeth, the smell of roast meat, +the flickering blurs, filled his consciousness, and by now he did +not know where he was and did not hear the agitated voices. + +When he recovered consciousness he found himself in bed, undressed, +saw a bottle of water and Pavel, but it was no cooler, nor softer, +nor more comfortable for that. His arms and legs, as before, refused +to lie comfortably; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and +he heard the wheezing of the Finn's pipe. . . . A stalwart, +black-bearded doctor was busy doing something beside the bed, +brushing against Pavel with his broad back. + +"It's all right, it's all right, young man," he muttered. "Excellent, +excellent . . . goo-od, goo-od . . . !" + +The doctor called Klimov "young man," said "goo-od" instead of +"good" and "so-o" instead of "so." + +"So-o . . . so-o . . . so-o," he murmured. "Goo-od, goo-od . . . ! +Excellent, young man. You mustn't lose heart!" + +The doctor's rapid, careless talk, his well-fed countenance, and +condescending "young man," irritated Klimov. + +"Why do you call me 'young man'?" he moaned. "What familiarity! +Damn it all!" + +And he was frightened by his own voice. The voice was so dried up, +so weak and peevish, that he would not have known it. + +"Excellent, excellent!" muttered the doctor, not in the least +offended. . . . "You mustn't get angry, so-o, so-o, so-s. . . ." + +And the time flew by at home with the same startling swiftness as +in the railway carriage. The daylight was continually being replaced +by the dusk of evening. The doctor seemed never to leave his bedside, +and he heard at every moment his "so-o, so-o, so-o." A continual +succession of people was incessantly crossing the bedroom. Among +them were: Pavel, the Finn, Captain Yaroshevitch, Lance-Corporal +Maximenko, the red cap, the lady with the white teeth, the doctor. +They were all talking and waving their arms, smoking and eating. +Once by daylight Klimov saw the chaplain of the regiment, Father +Alexandr, who was standing before the bed, wearing a stole and with +a prayer-book in his hand. He was muttering something with a grave +face such as Klimov had never seen in him before. The lieutenant +remembered that Father Alexandr used in a friendly way to call all +the Catholic officers "Poles," and wanting to amuse him, he cried: + +"Father, Yaroshevitch the Pole has climbed up a pole!" + +But Father Alexandr, a light-hearted man who loved a joke, did not +smile, but became graver than ever, and made the sign of the cross +over Klimov. At night-time by turn two shadows came noiselessly in +and out; they were his aunt and sister. His sister's shadow knelt +down and prayed; she bowed down to the ikon, and her grey shadow +on the wall bowed down too, so that two shadows were praying. The +whole time there was a smell of roast meat and the Finn's pipe, but +once Klimov smelt the strong smell of incense. He felt so sick he +could not lie still, and began shouting: + +"The incense! Take away the incense!" + +There was no answer. He could only hear the subdued singing of the +priest somewhere and some one running upstairs. + +When Klimov came to himself there was not a soul in his bedroom. +The morning sun was streaming in at the window through the lower +blind, and a quivering sunbeam, bright and keen as the sword's edge, +was flashing on the glass bottle. He heard the rattle of wheels-- +so there was no snow now in the street. The lieutenant looked at +the ray, at the familiar furniture, at the door, and the first thing +he did was to laugh. His chest and stomach heaved with delicious, +happy, tickling laughter. His whole body from head to foot was +overcome by a sensation of infinite happiness and joy in life, such +as the first man must have felt when he was created and first saw +the world. Klimov felt a passionate desire for movement, people, +talk. His body lay a motionless block; only his hands stirred, but +that he hardly noticed, and his whole attention was concentrated +on trifles. He rejoiced in his breathing, in his laughter, rejoiced +in the existence of the water-bottle, the ceiling, the sunshine, +the tape on the curtains. God's world, even in the narrow space of +his bedroom, seemed beautiful, varied, grand. When the doctor made +his appearance, the lieutenant was thinking what a delicious thing +medicine was, how charming and pleasant the doctor was, and how +nice and interesting people were in general. + +"So-o, so, so. . . Excellent, excellent! . . . Now we are well +again. . . . Goo-od, goo-od!" the doctor pattered. + +The lieutenant listened and laughed joyously; he remembered the +Finn, the lady with the white teeth, the train, and he longed to +smoke, to eat. + +"Doctor," he said, "tell them to give me a crust of rye bread and +salt, and . . . and sardines." + +The doctor refused; Pavel did not obey the order, and did not go +for the bread. The lieutenant could not bear this and began crying +like a naughty child. + +"Baby!" laughed the doctor. "Mammy, bye-bye!" + +Klimov laughed, too, and when the doctor went away he fell into a +sound sleep. He woke up with the same joyfulness and sensation of +happiness. His aunt was sitting near the bed. + +"Well, aunt," he said joyfully. "What has been the matter?" + +"Spotted typhus." + +"Really. But now I am well, quite well! Where is Katya?" + +"She is not at home. I suppose she has gone somewhere from her +examination." + +The old lady said this and looked at her stocking; her lips began +quivering, she turned away, and suddenly broke into sobs. Forgetting +the doctor's prohibition in her despair, she said: + +"Ah, Katya, Katya! Our angel is gone! Is gone!" + +She dropped her stocking and bent down to it, and as she did so her +cap fell off her head. Looking at her grey head and understanding +nothing, Klimov was frightened for Katya, and asked: + +"Where is she, aunt?" + +The old woman, who had forgotten Klimov and was thinking only of +her sorrow, said: + +"She caught typhus from you, and is dead. She was buried the day +before yesterday." + +This terrible, unexpected news was fully grasped by Klimov's +consciousness; but terrible and startling as it was, it could not +overcome the animal joy that filled the convalescent. He cried and +laughed, and soon began scolding because they would not let him +eat. + +Only a week later when, leaning on Pavel, he went in his dressing-gown +to the window, looked at the overcast spring sky and listened to +the unpleasant clang of the old iron rails which were being carted +by, his heart ached, he burst into tears, and leaned his forehead +against the window-frame. + +"How miserable I am!" he muttered. "My God, how miserable!" + +And joy gave way to the boredom of everyday life and the feeling +of his irrevocable loss. + + +A MISFORTUNE + +SOFYA PETROVNA, the wife of Lubyantsev the notary, a handsome young +woman of five-and-twenty, was walking slowly along a track that had +been cleared in the wood, with Ilyin, a lawyer who was spending the +summer in the neighbourhood. It was five o'clock in the evening. +Feathery-white masses of cloud stood overhead; patches of bright +blue sky peeped out between them. The clouds stood motionless, as +though they had caught in the tops of the tall old pine-trees. It +was still and sultry. + +Farther on, the track was crossed by a low railway embankment on +which a sentinel with a gun was for some reason pacing up and down. +Just beyond the embankment there was a large white church with six +domes and a rusty roof. + +"I did not expect to meet you here," said Sofya Petrovna, looking +at the ground and prodding at the last year's leaves with the tip +of her parasol, "and now I am glad we have met. I want to speak to +you seriously and once for all. I beg you, Ivan Mihalovitch, if you +really love and respect me, please make an end of this pursuit of +me! You follow me about like a shadow, you are continually looking +at me not in a nice way, making love to me, writing me strange +letters, and . . . and I don't know where it's all going to end! +Why, what can come of it?" + +Ilyin said nothing. Sofya Petrovna walked on a few steps and +continued: + +"And this complete transformation in you all came about in the +course of two or three weeks, after five years' friendship. I don't +know you, Ivan Mihalovitch!" + +Sofya Petrovna stole a glance at her companion. Screwing up his +eyes, he was looking intently at the fluffy clouds. His face looked +angry, ill-humoured, and preoccupied, like that of a man in pain +forced to listen to nonsense. + +"I wonder you don't see it yourself," Madame Lubyantsev went on, +shrugging her shoulders. "You ought to realize that it's not a very +nice part you are playing. I am married; I love and respect my +husband. . . . I have a daughter . . . . Can you think all that +means nothing? Besides, as an old friend you know my attitude to +family life and my views as to the sanctity of marriage." + +Ilyin cleared his throat angrily and heaved a sigh. + +"Sanctity of marriage . . ." he muttered. "Oh, Lord!" + +"Yes, yes. . . . I love my husband, I respect him; and in any case +I value the peace of my home. I would rather let myself be killed +than be a cause of unhappiness to Andrey and his daughter. . . . +And I beg you, Ivan Mihalovitch, for God's sake, leave me in peace! +Let us be as good, true friends as we used to be, and give up these +sighs and groans, which really don't suit you. It's settled and +over! Not a word more about it. Let us talk of something else." + +Sofya Petrovna again stole a glance at Ilyin's face. Ilyin was +looking up; he was pale, and was angrily biting his quivering lips. +She could not understand why he was angry and why he was indignant, +but his pallor touched her. + +"Don't be angry; let us be friends," she said affectionately. +"Agreed? Here's my hand." + +Ilyin took her plump little hand in both of his, squeezed it, and +slowly raised it to his lips. + +"I am not a schoolboy," he muttered. "I am not in the least tempted +by friendship with the woman I love." + +"Enough, enough! It's settled and done with. We have reached the +seat; let us sit down." + +Sofya Petrovna's soul was filled with a sweet sense of relief: the +most difficult and delicate thing had been said, the painful question +was settled and done with. Now she could breathe freely and look +Ilyin straight in the face. She looked at him, and the egoistic +feeling of the superiority of the woman over the man who loves her, +agreeably flattered her. It pleased her to see this huge, strong +man, with his manly, angry face and his big black beard--clever, +cultivated, and, people said, talented--sit down obediently beside +her and bow his head dejectedly. For two or three minutes they sat +without speaking. + +"Nothing is settled or done with," began Ilyin. "You repeat copy-book +maxims to me. 'I love and respect my husband . . . the sanctity of +marriage. . . .' I know all that without your help, and I could +tell you more, too. I tell you truthfully and honestly that I +consider the way I am behaving as criminal and immoral. What more +can one say than that? But what's the good of saying what everybody +knows? Instead of feeding nightingales with paltry words, you had +much better tell me what I am to do." + +"I've told you already--go away." + +"As you know perfectly well, I have gone away five times, and every +time I turned back on the way. I can show you my through tickets +--I've kept them all. I have not will enough to run away from you! +I am struggling. I am struggling horribly; but what the devil am I +good for if I have no backbone, if I am weak, cowardly! I can't +struggle with Nature! Do you understand? I cannot! I run away from +here, and she holds on to me and pulls me back. Contemptible, +loathsome weakness!" + +Ilyin flushed crimson, got up, and walked up and down by the seat. + +"I feel as cross as a dog," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I +hate and despise myself! My God! like some depraved schoolboy, I +am making love to another man's wife, writing idiotic letters, +degrading myself . . . ugh!" + +Ilyin clutched at his head, grunted, and sat down. "And then your +insincerity!" he went on bitterly. "If you do dislike my disgusting +behaviour, why have you come here? What drew you here? In my letters +I only ask you for a direct, definite answer--yes or no; but +instead of a direct answer, you contrive every day these 'chance' +meetings with me and regale me with copy-book maxims!" + +Madame Lubyantsev was frightened and flushed. She suddenly felt the +awkwardness which a decent woman feels when she is accidentally +discovered undressed. + +"You seem to suspect I am playing with you," she muttered. "I have +always given you a direct answer, and . . . only today I've begged +you . . ." + +"Ough! as though one begged in such cases! If you were to say +straight out 'Get away,' I should have been gone long ago; but +you've never said that. You've never once given me a direct answer. +Strange indecision! Yes, indeed; either you are playing with me, +or else . . ." + +Ilyin leaned his head on his fists without finishing. Sofya Petrovna +began going over in her own mind the way she had behaved from +beginning to end. She remembered that not only in her actions, but +even in her secret thoughts, she had always been opposed to Ilyin's +love-making; but yet she felt there was a grain of truth in the +lawyer's words. But not knowing exactly what the truth was, she +could not find answers to make to Ilyin's complaint, however hard +she thought. It was awkward to be silent, and, shrugging her +shoulders, she said: + +So I am to blame, it appears." + +"I don't blame you for your insincerity," sighed Ilyin. "I did not +mean that when I spoke of it. . . . Your insincerity is natural and +in the order of things. If people agreed together and suddenly +became sincere, everything would go to the devil." + +Sofya Petrovna was in no mood for philosophical reflections, but +she was glad of a chance to change the conversation, and asked: + +"But why?" + +"Because only savage women and animals are sincere. Once civilization +has introduced a demand for such comforts as, for instance, feminine +virtue, sincerity is out of place. . . ." + +Ilyin jabbed his stick angrily into the sand. Madame Lubyantsev +listened to him and liked his conversation, though a great deal of +it she did not understand. What gratified her most was that she, +an ordinary woman, was talked to by a talented man on "intellectual" +subjects; it afforded her great pleasure, too, to watch the working +of his mobile, young face, which was still pale and angry. She +failed to understand a great deal that he said, but what was clear +to her in his words was the attractive boldness with which the +modern man without hesitation or doubt decides great questions and +draws conclusive deductions. + +She suddenly realized that she was admiring him, and was alarmed. + +"Forgive me, but I don't understand," she said hurriedly. "What +makes you talk of insincerity? I repeat my request again: be my +good, true friend; let me alone! I beg you most earnestly!" + +"Very good; I'll try again," sighed Ilyin. "Glad to do my best. . . . +Only I doubt whether anything will come of my efforts. Either +I shall put a bullet through my brains or take to drink in an idiotic +way. I shall come to a bad end! There's a limit to everything-- +to struggles with Nature, too. Tell me, how can one struggle against +madness? If you drink wine, how are you to struggle against +intoxication? What am I to do if your image has grown into my soul, +and day and night stands persistently before my eyes, like that +pine there at this moment? Come, tell me, what hard and difficult +thing can I do to get free from this abominable, miserable condition, +in which all my thoughts, desires, and dreams are no longer my own, +but belong to some demon who has taken possession of me? I love +you, love you so much that I am completely thrown out of gear; I've +given up my work and all who are dear to me; I've forgotten my God! +I've never been in love like this in my life." + +Sofya Petrovna, who had not expected such a turn to their conversation, +drew away from Ilyin and looked into his face in dismay. Tears came +into his eyes, his lips were quivering, and there was an imploring, +hungry expression in his face. + +"I love you!" he muttered, bringing his eyes near her big, frightened +eyes. "You are so beautiful! I am in agony now, but I swear I would +sit here all my life, suffering and looking in your eyes. But . . . +be silent, I implore you!" + +Sofya Petrovna, feeling utterly disconcerted, tried to think as +quickly as possible of something to say to stop him. "I'll go away," +she decided, but before she had time to make a movement to get up, +Ilyin was on his knees before her. . . . He was clasping her knees, +gazing into her face and speaking passionately, hotly, eloquently. +In her terror and confusion she did not hear his words; for some +reason now, at this dangerous moment, while her knees were being +agreeably squeezed and felt as though they were in a warm bath, she +was trying, with a sort of angry spite, to interpret her own +sensations. She was angry that instead of brimming over with +protesting virtue, she was entirely overwhelmed with weakness, +apathy, and emptiness, like a drunken man utterly reckless; only +at the bottom of her soul a remote bit of herself was malignantly +taunting her: "Why don't you go? Is this as it should be? Yes?" + +Seeking for some explanation, she could not understand how it was +she did not pull away the hand to which Ilyin was clinging like a +leech, and why, like Ilyin, she hastily glanced to right and to +left to see whether any one was looking. The clouds and the pines +stood motionless, looking at them severely, like old ushers seeing +mischief, but bribed not to tell the school authorities. The sentry +stood like a post on the embankment and seemed to be looking at the +seat. + +"Let him look," thought Sofya Petrovna. + +"But . . . but listen," she said at last, with despair in her voice. +"What can come of this? What will be the end of this?" + +"I don't know, I don't know," he whispered, waving off the disagreeable +questions. + +They heard the hoarse, discordant whistle of the train. This cold, +irrelevant sound from the everyday world of prose made Sofya Petrovna +rouse herself. + +"I can't stay . . . it's time I was at home," she said, getting up +quickly. "The train is coming in. . . Andrey is coming by it! He +will want his dinner." + +Sofya Petrovna turned towards the embankment with a burning face. +The engine slowly crawled by, then came the carriages. It was not +the local train, as she had supposed, but a goods train. The trucks +filed by against the background of the white church in a long string +like the days of a man's life, and it seemed as though it would +never end. + +But at last the train passed, and the last carriage with the guard +and a light in it had disappeared behind the trees. Sofya Petrovna +turned round sharply, and without looking at Ilyin, walked rapidly +back along the track. She had regained her self-possession. Crimson +with shame, humiliated not by Ilyin--no, but by her own cowardice, +by the shamelessness with which she, a chaste and high-principled +woman, had allowed a man, not her husband, to hug her knees--she +had only one thought now: to get home as quickly as possible to her +villa, to her family. The lawyer could hardly keep pace with her. +Turning from the clearing into a narrow path, she turned round and +glanced at him so quickly that she saw nothing but the sand on his +knees, and waved to him to drop behind. + +Reaching home, Sofya Petrovna stood in the middle of her room for +five minutes without moving, and looked first at the window and +then at her writing-table. + +"You low creature!" she said, upbraiding herself. "You low creature!" + +To spite herself, she recalled in precise detail, keeping nothing +back--she recalled that though all this time she had been opposed +to Ilyin's lovemaking, something had impelled her to seek an interview +with him; and what was more, when he was at her feet she had enjoyed +it enormously. She recalled it all without sparing herself, and +now, breathless with shame, she would have liked to slap herself +in the face. + +"Poor Andrey!" she said to herself, trying as she thought of her +husband to put into her face as tender an expression as she could. +"Varya, my poor little girl, doesn't know what a mother she has! +Forgive me, my dear ones! I love you so much . . . so much!" + +And anxious to prove to herself that she was still a good wife and +mother, and that corruption had not yet touched that "sanctity of +marriage" of which she had spoken to Ilyin, Sofya Petrovna ran to +the kitchen and abused the cook for not having yet laid the table +for Andrey Ilyitch. She tried to picture her husband's hungry and +exhausted appearance, commiserated him aloud, and laid the table +for him with her own hands, which she had never done before. Then +she found her daughter Varya, picked her up in her arms and hugged +her warmly; the child seemed to her cold and heavy, but she was +unwilling to acknowledge this to herself, and she began explaining +to the child how good, kind, and honourable her papa was. + +But when Andrey Ilyitch arrived soon afterwards she hardly greeted +him. The rush of false feeling had already passed off without proving +anything to her, only irritating and exasperating her by its falsity. +She was sitting by the window, feeling miserable and cross. It is +only by being in trouble that people can understand how far from +easy it is to be the master of one's feelings and thoughts. Sofya +Petrovna said afterwards that there was a tangle within her which +it was as difficult to unravel as to count a flock of sparrows +rapidly flying by. From the fact that she was not overjoyed to see +her husband, that she did not like his manner at dinner, she concluded +all of a sudden that she was beginning to hate her husband. + +Andrey Ilyitch, languid with hunger and exhaustion, fell upon the +sausage while waiting for the soup to be brought in, and ate it +greedily, munching noisily and moving his temples. + +"My goodness!" thought Sofya Petrovna. "I love and respect him, but +. . . why does he munch so repulsively?" + +The disorder in her thoughts was no less than the disorder in her +feelings. Like all persons inexperienced in combating unpleasant +ideas, Madame Lubyantsev did her utmost not to think of her trouble, +and the harder she tried the more vividly Ilyin, the sand on his +knees, the fluffy clouds, the train, stood out in her imagination. + +"And why did I go there this afternoon like a fool?" she thought, +tormenting herself. "And am I really so weak that I cannot depend +upon myself?" + +Fear magnifies danger. By the time Andrey Ilyitch was finishing the +last course, she had firmly made up her mind to tell her husband +everything and to flee from danger! + +"I've something serious to say to you, Andrey," she began after +dinner while her husband was taking off his coat and boots to lie +down for a nap. + +"Well?" + +"Let us leave this place!" + +"H'm! . . . Where shall we go? It's too soon to go back to town." + +"No; for a tour or something of that sort. + +"For a tour . . ." repeated the notary, stretching. "I dream of +that myself, but where are we to get the money, and to whom am I +to leave the office?" + +And thinking a little he added: + +"Of course, you must be bored. Go by yourself if you like." + +Sofya Petrovna agreed, but at once reflected that Ilyin would be +delighted with the opportunity, and would go with her in the same +train, in the same compartment. . . . She thought and looked at her +husband, now satisfied but still languid. For some reason her eyes +rested on his feet--miniature, almost feminine feet, clad in +striped socks; there was a thread standing out at the tip of each +sock. + +Behind the blind a bumble-bee was beating itself against the +window-pane and buzzing. Sofya Petrovna looked at the threads on +the socks, listened to the bee, and pictured how she would set off +. . . . _vis-a-vis_ Ilyin would sit, day and night, never taking his +eyes off her, wrathful at his own weakness and pale with spiritual +agony. He would call himself an immoral schoolboy, would abuse her, +tear his hair, but when darkness came on and the passengers were +asleep or got out at a station, he would seize the opportunity to +kneel before her and embrace her knees as he had at the seat in the +wood. . . . + +She caught herself indulging in this day-dream. + +"Listen. I won't go alone," she said. "You must come with me." + +"Nonsense, Sofotchka!" sighed Lubyantsev. "One must be sensible and +not want the impossible." + +"You will come when you know all about it," thought Sofya Petrovna. + +Making up her mind to go at all costs, she felt that she was out +of danger. Little by little her ideas grew clearer; her spirits +rose and she allowed herself to think about it all, feeling that +however much she thought, however much she dreamed, she would go +away. While her husband was asleep, the evening gradually came on. +She sat in the drawing-room and played the piano. The greater +liveliness out of doors, the sound of music, but above all the +thought that she was a sensible person, that she had surmounted her +difficulties, completely restored her spirits. Other women, her +appeased conscience told her, would probably have been carried off +their feet in her position, and would have lost their balance, while +she had almost died of shame, had been miserable, and was now running +out of the danger which perhaps did not exist! She was so touched +by her own virtue and determination that she even looked at herself +two or three times in the looking-glass. + +When it got dark, visitors arrived. The men sat down in the dining-room +to play cards; the ladies remained in the drawing-room and the +verandah. The last to arrive was Ilyin. He was gloomy, morose, and +looked ill. He sat down in the corner of the sofa and did not move +the whole evening. Usually good-humoured and talkative, this time +he remained silent, frowned, and rubbed his eyebrows. When he had +to answer some question, he gave a forced smile with his upper lip +only, and answered jerkily and irritably. Four or five times he +made some jest, but his jests sounded harsh and cutting. It seemed +to Sofya Petrovna that he was on the verge of hysterics. Only now, +sitting at the piano, she recognized fully for the first time that +this unhappy man was in deadly earnest, that his soul was sick, and +that he could find no rest. For her sake he was wasting the best +days of his youth and his career, spending the last of his money +on a summer villa, abandoning his mother and sisters, and, worst +of all, wearing himself out in an agonizing struggle with himself. +From mere common humanity he ought to be treated seriously. + +She recognized all this clearly till it made her heart ache, and +if at that moment she had gone up to him and said to him, "No," +there would have been a force in her voice hard to disobey. But she +did not go up to him and did not speak--indeed, never thought of +doing so. The pettiness and egoism of youth had never been more +patent in her than that evening. She realized that Ilyin was unhappy, +and that he was sitting on the sofa as though he were on hot coals; +she felt sorry for him, but at the same time the presence of a man +who loved her to distraction, filled her soul with triumph and a +sense of her own power. She felt her youth, her beauty, and her +unassailable virtue, and, since she had decided to go away, gave +herself full licence for that evening. She flirted, laughed +incessantly, sang with peculiar feeling and gusto. Everything +delighted and amused her. She was amused at the memory of what had +happened at the seat in the wood, of the sentinel who had looked +on. She was amused by her guests, by Ilyin's cutting jests, by the +pin in his cravat, which she had never noticed before. There was a +red snake with diamond eyes on the pin; this snake struck her as +so amusing that she could have kissed it on the spot. + +Sofya Petrovna sang nervously, with defiant recklessness as though +half intoxicated, and she chose sad, mournful songs which dealt +with wasted hopes, the past, old age, as though in mockery of +another's grief. "'And old age comes nearer and nearer' . . ." she +sang. And what was old age to her? + +"It seems as though there is something going wrong with me," she +thought from time to time through her laughter and singing. + +The party broke up at twelve o'clock. Ilyin was the last to leave. +Sofya Petrovna was still reckless enough to accompany him to the +bottom step of the verandah. She wanted to tell him that she was +going away with her husband, and to watch the effect this news would +produce on him. + +The moon was hidden behind the clouds, but it was light enough for +Sofya Petrovna to see how the wind played with the skirts of his +overcoat and with the awning of the verandah. She could see, too, +how white Ilyin was, and how he twisted his upper lip in the effort +to smile. + +"Sonia, Sonitchka . . . my darling woman!" he muttered, preventing +her from speaking. "My dear! my sweet!" + +In a rush of tenderness, with tears in his voice, he showered +caressing words upon her, that grew tenderer and tenderer, and even +called her "thou," as though she were his wife or mistress. Quite +unexpectedly he put one arm round her waist and with the other hand +took hold of her elbow. + +"My precious! my delight!" he whispered, kissing the nape of her +neck; "be sincere; come to me at once!" + +She slipped out of his arms and raised her head to give vent to her +indignation and anger, but the indignation did not come off, and +all her vaunted virtue and chastity was only sufficient to enable +her to utter the phrase used by all ordinary women on such occasions: + +"You must be mad." + +"Come, let us go," Ilyin continued. "I felt just now, as well as +at the seat in the wood, that you are as helpless as I am, Sonia +. . . . You are in the same plight! You love me and are fruitlessly +trying to appease your conscience. . . ." + +Seeing that she was moving away, he caught her by her lace cuff and +said rapidly: + +"If not today, then tomorrow you will have to give in! Why, then, +this waste of time? My precious, darling Sonia, the sentence is +passed; why put off the execution? Why deceive yourself?" + +Sofya Petrovna tore herself from him and darted in at the door. +Returning to the drawing-room, she mechanically shut the piano, +looked for a long time at the music-stand, and sat down. She could +not stand up nor think. All that was left of her excitement and +recklessness was a fearful weakness, apathy, and dreariness. Her +conscience whispered to her that she had behaved badly, foolishly, +that evening, like some madcap girl--that she had just been +embraced on the verandah, and still had an uneasy feeling in her +waist and her elbow. There was not a soul in the drawing-room; there +was only one candle burning. Madame Lubyantsev sat on the round +stool before the piano, motionless, as though expecting something. +And as though taking advantage of the darkness and her extreme +lassitude, an oppressive, overpowering desire began to assail her. +Like a boa-constrictor it gripped her limbs and her soul, and grew +stronger every second, and no longer menaced her as it had done, +but stood clear before her in all its nakedness. + +She sat for half an hour without stirring, not restraining herself +from thinking of Ilyin, then she got up languidly and dragged herself +to her bedroom. Andrey Ilyitch was already in bed. She sat down by +the open window and gave herself up to desire. There was no "tangle" +now in her head; all her thoughts and feelings were bent with one +accord upon a single aim. She tried to struggle against it, but +instantly gave it up. . . . She understood now how strong and +relentless was the foe. Strength and fortitude were needed to combat +him, and her birth, her education, and her life had given her nothing +to fall back upon. + +"Immoral wretch! Low creature!" she nagged at herself for her +weakness. "So that's what you're like!" + +Her outraged sense of propriety was moved to such indignation by +this weakness that she lavished upon herself every term of abuse +she knew, and told herself many offensive and humiliating truths. +So, for instance, she told herself that she never had been moral, +that she had not come to grief before simply because she had had +no opportunity, that her inward conflict during that day had all +been a farce. . . . + +"And even if I have struggled," she thought, "what sort of struggle +was it? Even the woman who sells herself struggles before she brings +herself to it, and yet she sells herself. A fine struggle! Like +milk, I've turned in a day! In one day!" + +She convicted herself of being tempted, not by feeling, not by Ilyin +personally, but by sensations which awaited her . . . an idle lady, +having her fling in the summer holidays, like so many! + +"'Like an unfledged bird when the mother has been slain,'" sang +a husky tenor outside the window. + +"If I am to go, it's time," thought Sofya Petrovna. Her heart +suddenly began beating violently. + +"Andrey!" she almost shrieked. "Listen! we . . . we are going? Yes?" + +"Yes, I've told you already: you go alone." + +"But listen," she began. "If you don't go with me, you are in danger +of losing me. I believe I am . . . in love already." + +"With whom?" asked Andrey Ilyitch. + +"It can't make any difference to you who it is!" cried Sofya Petrovna. + +Andrey Ilyitch sat up with his feet out of bed and looked wonderingly +at his wife's dark figure. + +"It's a fancy!" he yawned. + +He did not believe her, but yet he was frightened. After thinking +a little and asking his wife several unimportant questions, he +delivered himself of his opinions on the family, on infidelity . . . +spoke listlessly for about ten minutes and got into bed again. +His moralizing produced no effect. There are a great many opinions +in the world, and a good half of them are held by people who have +never been in trouble! + +In spite of the late hour, summer visitors were still walking +outside. Sofya Petrovna put on a light cape, stood a little, thought +a little. . . . She still had resolution enough to say to her +sleeping husband: + +"Are you asleep? I am going for a walk. . . . Will you come with +me?" + +That was her last hope. Receiving no answer, she went out. . . . +It was fresh and windy. She was conscious neither of the wind nor +the darkness, but went on and on. . . . An overmastering force drove +her on, and it seemed as though, if she had stopped, it would have +pushed her in the back. + +"Immoral creature!" she muttered mechanically. "Low wretch!" + +She was breathless, hot with shame, did not feel her legs under +her, but what drove her on was stronger than shame, reason, or fear. + + +A TRIFLE FROM LIFE + +A WELL-FED, red-cheeked young man called Nikolay Ilyitch Belyaev, +of thirty-two, who was an owner of house property in Petersburg, +and a devotee of the race-course, went one evening to see Olga +Ivanovna Irnin, with whom he was living, or, to use his own expression, +was dragging out a long, wearisome romance. And, indeed, the first +interesting and enthusiastic pages of this romance had long been +perused; now the pages dragged on, and still dragged on, without +presenting anything new or of interest. + +Not finding Olga Ivanovna at home, my hero lay down on the lounge +chair and proceeded to wait for her in the drawing-room. + +"Good-evening, Nikolay Ilyitch!" he heard a child's voice. "Mother +will be here directly. She has gone with Sonia to the dressmaker's." + +Olga Ivanovna's son, Alyosha--a boy of eight who looked graceful +and very well cared for, who was dressed like a picture, in a black +velvet jacket and long black stockings--was lying on the sofa in +the same room. He was lying on a satin cushion and, evidently +imitating an acrobat he had lately seen at the circus, stuck up in +the air first one leg and then the other. When his elegant legs +were exhausted, he brought his arms into play or jumped up impulsively +and went on all fours, trying to stand with his legs in the air. +All this he was doing with the utmost gravity, gasping and groaning +painfully as though he regretted that God had given him such a +restless body. + +"Ah, good-evening, my boy," said Belyaev. "It's you! I did not +notice you. Is your mother well?" + +Alyosha, taking hold of the tip of his left toe with his right hand +and falling into the most unnatural attitude, turned over, jumped +up, and peeped at Belyaev from behind the big fluffy lampshade. + +"What shall I say?" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "In reality +mother's never well. You see, she is a woman, and women, Nikolay +Ilyitch, have always something the matter with them." + +Belyaev, having nothing better to do, began watching Alyosha's face. +He had never before during the whole of his intimacy with Olga +Ivanovna paid any attention to the boy, and had completely ignored +his existence; the boy had been before his eyes, but he had not +cared to think why he was there and what part he was playing. + +In the twilight of the evening, Alyosha's face, with his white +forehead and black, unblinking eyes, unexpectedly reminded Belyaev +of Olga Ivanovna as she had been during the first pages of their +romance. And he felt disposed to be friendly to the boy. + +"Come here, insect," he said; "let me have a closer look at you." + +The boy jumped off the sofa and skipped up to Belyaev. + +"Well," began Nikolay Ilyitch, putting a hand on the boy's thin +shoulder. "How are you getting on?" + +"How shall I say! We used to get on a great deal better." + +"Why?" + +"It's very simple. Sonia and I used only to learn music and reading, +and now they give us French poetry to learn. Have you been shaved +lately?" + +"Yes." + +"Yes, I see you have. Your beard is shorter. Let me touch it. . . . +Does that hurt?" + +"No." + +"Why is it that if you pull one hair it hurts, but if you pull a +lot at once it doesn't hurt a bit? Ha, ha! And, you know, it's a +pity you don't have whiskers. Here ought to be shaved . . . but +here at the sides the hair ought to be left. . . ." + +The boy nestled up to Belyaev and began playing with his watch-chain. + +"When I go to the high-school," he said, "mother is going to buy +me a watch. I shall ask her to buy me a watch-chain like this. . . . +Wh-at a lo-ket! Father's got a locket like that, only yours has +little bars on it and his has letters. . . . There's mother's +portrait in the middle of his. Father has a different sort of chain +now, not made with rings, but like ribbon. . . ." + +"How do you know? Do you see your father?" + +"I? M'm . . . no . . . I . . ." + +Alyosha blushed, and in great confusion, feeling caught in a lie, +began zealously scratching the locket with his nail. . . . Belyaev +looked steadily into his face and asked: + +"Do you see your father?" + +"N-no!" + +"Come, speak frankly, on your honour. . . . I see from your face +you are telling a fib. Once you've let a thing slip out it's no +good wriggling about it. Tell me, do you see him? Come, as a friend." + +Alyosha hesitated. + +"You won't tell mother?" he said. + +"As though I should!" + +"On your honour?" + +"On my honour." + +"Do you swear?" + +"Ah, you provoking boy! What do you take me for?" + +Alyosha looked round him, then with wide-open eyes, whispered to +him: + +"Only, for goodness' sake, don't tell mother. . . . Don't tell any +one at all, for it is a secret. I hope to goodness mother won't +find out, or we should all catch it--Sonia, and I, and Pelagea +. . . . Well, listen. . . Sonia and I see father every Tuesday and +Friday. When Pelagea takes us for a walk before dinner we go to the +Apfel Restaurant, and there is father waiting for us. . . . He is +always sitting in a room apart, where you know there's a marble +table and an ash-tray in the shape of a goose without a back. . . ." + +"What do you do there?" + +"Nothing! First we say how-do-you-do, then we all sit round the +table, and father treats us with coffee and pies. You know Sonia +eats the meat-pies, but I can't endure meat-pies! I like the pies +made of cabbage and eggs. We eat such a lot that we have to try +hard to eat as much as we can at dinner, for fear mother should +notice." + +"What do you talk about?" + +"With father? About anything. He kisses us, he hugs us, tells us +all sorts of amusing jokes. Do you know, he says when we are grown +up he is going to take us to live with him. Sonia does not want to +go, but I agree. Of course, I should miss mother; but, then, I +should write her letters! It's a queer idea, but we could come and +visit her on holidays--couldn't we? Father says, too, that he +will buy me a horse. He's an awfully kind man! I can't understand +why mother does not ask him to come and live with us, and why she +forbids us to see him. You know he loves mother very much. He is +always asking us how she is and what she is doing. When she was ill +he clutched his head like this, and . . . and kept running about. +He always tells us to be obedient and respectful to her. Listen. +Is it true that we are unfortunate?" + +"H'm! . . . Why?" + +"That's what father says. 'You are unhappy children,' he says. It's +strange to hear him, really. 'You are unhappy,' he says, 'I am +unhappy, and mother's unhappy. You must pray to God,' he says; 'for +yourselves and for her.'" + +Alyosha let his eyes rest on a stuffed bird and sank into thought. + +"So . . ." growled Belyaev. "So that's how you are going on. You +arrange meetings at restaurants. And mother does not know?" + +"No-o. . . . How should she know? Pelagea would not tell her for +anything, you know. The day before yesterday he gave us some pears. +As sweet as jam! I ate two." + +"H'm! . . . Well, and I say . . Listen. Did father say anything +about me?" + +"About you? What shall I say?" + +Alyosha looked searchingly into Belyaev's face and shrugged his +shoulders. + +"He didn't say anything particular." + +"For instance, what did he say?" + +"You won't be offended?" + +"What next? Why, does he abuse me?" + +"He doesn't abuse you, but you know he is angry with you. He says +mother's unhappy owing to you . . . and that you have ruined mother. +You know he is so queer! I explain to him that you are kind, that +you never scold mother; but he only shakes his head." + +"So he says I have ruined her?" + +"Yes; you mustn't be offended, Nikolay Ilyitch." + +Belyaev got up, stood still a moment, and walked up and down the +drawing-room. + +"That's strange and . . . ridiculous!" he muttered, shrugging his +shoulders and smiling sarcastically. "He's entirely to blame, and +I have ruined her, eh? An innocent lamb, I must say. So he told you +I ruined your mother?" + +"Yes, but . . . you said you would not be offended, you know." + +"I am not offended, and . . . and it's not your business. Why, it's +. . . why, it's positively ridiculous! I have been thrust into it +like a chicken in the broth, and now it seems I'm to blame!" + +A ring was heard. The boy sprang up from his place and ran out. A +minute later a lady came into the room with a little girl; this was +Olga Ivanovna, Alyosha's mother. Alyosha followed them in, skipping +and jumping, humming aloud and waving his hands. Belyaev nodded, +and went on walking up and down. + +"Of course, whose fault is it if not mine?" he muttered with a +snort. "He is right! He is an injured husband." + +"What are you talking about?" asked Olga Ivanovna. + +"What about? . . . Why, just listen to the tales your lawful spouse +is spreading now! It appears that I am a scoundrel and a villain, +that I have ruined you and the children. All of you are unhappy, +and I am the only happy one! Wonderfully, wonderfully happy!" + +"I don't understand, Nikolay. What's the matter?" + +"Why, listen to this young gentleman!" said Belyaev, pointing to +Alyosha. + +Alyosha flushed crimson, then turned pale, and his whole face began +working with terror. + +"Nikolay Ilyitch," he said in a loud whisper. "Sh-sh!" + +Olga Ivanovna looked in surprise at Alyosha, then at Belyaev, then +at Alyosha again. + +"Just ask him," Belyaev went on. "Your Pelagea, like a regular fool, +takes them about to restaurants and arranges meetings with their +papa. But that's not the point: the point is that their dear papa +is a victim, while I'm a wretch who has broken up both your lives. . ." + +"Nikolay Ilyitch," moaned Alyosha. "Why, you promised on your word +of honour!" + +"Oh, get away!" said Belyaev, waving him off. "This is more important +than any word of honour. It's the hypocrisy revolts me, the lying! +. . ." + +"I don't understand it," said Olga Ivanovna, and tears glistened +in her eyes. "Tell me, Alyosha," she turned to her son. "Do you see +your father?" + +Alyosha did not hear her; he was looking with horror at Belyaev. + +"It's impossible," said his mother; "I will go and question Pelagea." + +Olga Ivanovna went out. + +"I say, you promised on your word of honour!" said Alyosha, trembling +all over. + +Belyaev dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and went on walking +up and down. He was absorbed in his grievance and was oblivious of +the boy's presence, as he always had been. He, a grownup, serious +person, had no thought to spare for boys. And Alyosha sat down in +the corner and told Sonia with horror how he had been deceived. He +was trembling, stammering, and crying. It was the first time in his +life that he had been brought into such coarse contact with lying; +till then he had not known that there are in the world, besides +sweet pears, pies, and expensive watches, a great many things for +which the language of children has no expression. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Party and Other Stories, +by Anton Chekhov + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PARTY *** + +***** This file should be named 13413.txt or 13413.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/1/13413/ + +Produced by James Rusk + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Party and Other Stories + +Author: Anton Chekhov + +Release Date: September 9, 2004 [EBook #13413] +Last Updated: May 26, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PARTY *** + + + + + + +Etext produced by James Rusk + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE TALES OF CHEKHOV + </h1> + <h4> + Volume 4 + </h4> + <h3> + THE PARTY AND OTHER STORIES + </h3> + <h2> + By Anton Tchekhov + </h2> + <h4> + Translated By Constance Garnett + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE PARTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> TERROR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> A WOMAN’S KINGDOM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> A PROBLEM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE KISS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> ‘ANNA ON THE NECK’ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE TEACHER OF LITERATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> NOT WANTED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> TYPHUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> A MISFORTUNE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> A TRIFLE FROM LIFE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PARTY + </h2> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>FTER the festive + dinner with its eight courses and its endless conversation, Olga + Mihalovna, whose husband’s name-day was being celebrated, went out into + the garden. The duty of smiling and talking incessantly, the clatter of + the crockery, the stupidity of the servants, the long intervals between + the courses, and the stays she had put on to conceal her condition from + the visitors, wearied her to exhaustion. She longed to get away from the + house, to sit in the shade and rest her heart with thoughts of the baby + which was to be born to her in another two months. She was used to these + thoughts coming to her as she turned to the left out of the big avenue + into the narrow path. Here in the thick shade of the plums and + cherry-trees the dry branches used to scratch her neck and shoulders; a + spider’s web would settle on her face, and there would rise up in her mind + the image of a little creature of undetermined sex and undefined features, + and it began to seem as though it were not the spider’s web that tickled + her face and neck caressingly, but that little creature. When, at the end + of the path, a thin wicker hurdle came into sight, and behind it podgy + beehives with tiled roofs; when in the motionless, stagnant air there came + a smell of hay and honey, and a soft buzzing of bees was audible, then the + little creature would take complete possession of Olga Mihalovna. She used + to sit down on a bench near the shanty woven of branches, and fall to + thinking. + </p> + <p> + This time, too, she went on as far as the seat, sat down, and began + thinking; but instead of the little creature there rose up in her + imagination the figures of the grown-up people whom she had just left. She + felt dreadfully uneasy that she, the hostess, had deserted her guests, and + she remembered how her husband, Pyotr Dmitritch, and her uncle, Nikolay + Nikolaitch, had argued at dinner about trial by jury, about the press, and + about the higher education of women. Her husband, as usual, argued in + order to show off his Conservative ideas before his visitors—and + still more in order to disagree with her uncle, whom he disliked. Her + uncle contradicted him and wrangled over every word he uttered, so as to + show the company that he, Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch, still retained his + youthful freshness of spirit and free-thinking in spite of his fifty-nine + years. And towards the end of dinner even Olga Mihalovna herself could not + resist taking part and unskilfully attempting to defend university + education for women—not that that education stood in need of her + defence, but simply because she wanted to annoy her husband, who to her + mind was unfair. The guests were wearied by this discussion, but they all + thought it necessary to take part in it, and talked a great deal, although + none of them took any interest in trial by jury or the higher education of + women. . . . + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna was sitting on the nearest side of the hurdle near the + shanty. The sun was hidden behind the clouds. The trees and the air were + overcast as before rain, but in spite of that it was hot and stifling. The + hay cut under the trees on the previous day was lying ungathered, looking + melancholy, with here and there a patch of colour from the faded flowers, + and from it came a heavy, sickly scent. It was still. The other side of + the hurdle there was a monotonous hum of bees. . . . + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she heard footsteps and voices; some one was coming along the + path towards the beehouse. + </p> + <p> + “How stifling it is!” said a feminine voice. “What do you think— is + it going to rain, or not?” + </p> + <p> + “It is going to rain, my charmer, but not before night,” a very familiar + male voice answered languidly. “There will be a good rain.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna calculated that if she made haste to hide in the shanty + they would pass by without seeing her, and she would not have to talk and + to force herself to smile. She picked up her skirts, bent down and crept + into the shanty. At once she felt upon her face, her neck, her arms, the + hot air as heavy as steam. If it had not been for the stuffiness and the + close smell of rye bread, fennel, and brushwood, which prevented her from + breathing freely, it would have been delightful to hide from her visitors + here under the thatched roof in the dusk, and to think about the little + creature. It was cosy and quiet. + </p> + <p> + “What a pretty spot!” said a feminine voice. “Let us sit here, Pyotr + Dmitritch.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna began peeping through a crack between two branches. She saw + her husband, Pyotr Dmitritch, and Lubotchka Sheller, a girl of seventeen + who had not long left boarding-school. Pyotr Dmitritch, with his hat on + the back of his head, languid and indolent from having drunk so much at + dinner, slouched by the hurdle and raked the hay into a heap with his + foot; Lubotchka, pink with the heat and pretty as ever, stood with her + hands behind her, watching the lazy movements of his big handsome person. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna knew that her husband was attractive to women, and did not + like to see him with them. There was nothing out of the way in Pyotr + Dmitritch’s lazily raking together the hay in order to sit down on it with + Lubotchka and chatter to her of trivialities; there was nothing out of the + way, either, in pretty Lubotchka’s looking at him with her soft eyes; but + yet Olga Mihalovna felt vexed with her husband and frightened and pleased + that she could listen to them. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, enchantress,” said Pyotr Dmitritch, sinking down on the hay and + stretching. “That’s right. Come, tell me something.” + </p> + <p> + “What next! If I begin telling you anything you will go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Me go to sleep? Allah forbid! Can I go to sleep while eyes like yours are + watching me?” + </p> + <p> + In her husband’s words, and in the fact that he was lolling with his hat + on the back of his head in the presence of a lady, there was nothing out + of the way either. He was spoilt by women, knew that they found him + attractive, and had adopted with them a special tone which every one said + suited him. With Lubotchka he behaved as with all women. But, all the + same, Olga Mihalovna was jealous. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, please,” said Lubotchka, after a brief silence—“is it true + that you are to be tried for something?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Yes, I am . . . numbered among the transgressors, my charmer.” + </p> + <p> + “But what for?” + </p> + <p> + “For nothing, but just . . . it’s chiefly a question of politics,” yawned + Pyotr Dmitritch—“the antagonisms of Left and Right. I, an + obscurantist and reactionary, ventured in an official paper to make use of + an expression offensive in the eyes of such immaculate Gladstones as + Vladimir Pavlovitch Vladimirov and our local justice of the peace—Kuzma + Grigoritch Vostryakov.” + </p> + <p> + Pytor Dmitritch yawned again and went on: + </p> + <p> + “And it is the way with us that you may express disapproval of the sun or + the moon, or anything you like, but God preserve you from touching the + Liberals! Heaven forbid! A Liberal is like the poisonous dry fungus which + covers you with a cloud of dust if you accidentally touch it with your + finger.” + </p> + <p> + “What happened to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing particular. The whole flare-up started from the merest trifle. A + teacher, a detestable person of clerical associations, hands to Vostryakov + a petition against a tavern-keeper, charging him with insulting language + and behaviour in a public place. Everything showed that both the teacher + and the tavern-keeper were drunk as cobblers, and that they behaved + equally badly. If there had been insulting behaviour, the insult had + anyway been mutual. Vostryakov ought to have fined them both for a breach + of the peace and have turned them out of the court—that is all. But + that’s not our way of doing things. With us what stands first is not the + person—not the fact itself, but the trade-mark and label. However + great a rascal a teacher may be, he is always in the right because he is a + teacher; a tavern-keeper is always in the wrong because he is a + tavern-keeper and a money-grubber. Vostryakov placed the tavern-keeper + under arrest. The man appealed to the Circuit Court; the Circuit Court + triumphantly upheld Vostryakov’s decision. Well, I stuck to my own + opinion. . . . Got a little hot. . . . That was all.” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch spoke calmly with careless irony. In reality the trial + that was hanging over him worried him extremely. Olga Mihalovna remembered + how on his return from the unfortunate session he had tried to conceal + from his household how troubled he was, and how dissatisfied with himself. + As an intelligent man he could not help feeling that he had gone too far + in expressing his disagreement; and how much lying had been needful to + conceal that feeling from himself and from others! How many unnecessary + conversations there had been! How much grumbling and insincere laughter at + what was not laughable! When he learned that he was to be brought up + before the Court, he seemed at once harassed and depressed; he began to + sleep badly, stood oftener than ever at the windows, drumming on the panes + with his fingers. And he was ashamed to let his wife see that he was + worried, and it vexed her. + </p> + <p> + “They say you have been in the province of Poltava?” Lubotchka questioned + him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Pyotr Dmitritch. “I came back the day before yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect it is very nice there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is very nice, very nice indeed; in fact, I arrived just in time + for the haymaking, I must tell you, and in the Ukraine the haymaking is + the most poetical moment of the year. Here we have a big house, a big + garden, a lot of servants, and a lot going on, so that you don’t see the + haymaking; here it all passes unnoticed. There, at the farm, I have a + meadow of forty-five acres as flat as my hand. You can see the men mowing + from any window you stand at. They are mowing in the meadow, they are + mowing in the garden. There are no visitors, no fuss nor hurry either, so + that you can’t help seeing, feeling, hearing nothing but the haymaking. + There is a smell of hay indoors and outdoors. There’s the sound of the + scythes from sunrise to sunset. Altogether Little Russia is a charming + country. Would you believe it, when I was drinking water from the rustic + wells and filthy vodka in some Jew’s tavern, when on quiet evenings the + strains of the Little Russian fiddle and the tambourines reached me, I was + tempted by a fascinating idea—to settle down on my place and live + there as long as I chose, far away from Circuit Courts, intellectual + conversations, philosophizing women, long dinners. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch was not lying. He was unhappy and really longed to rest. + And he had visited his Poltava property simply to avoid seeing his study, + his servants, his acquaintances, and everything that could remind him of + his wounded vanity and his mistakes. + </p> + <p> + Lubotchka suddenly jumped up and waved her hands about in horror. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! A bee, a bee!” she shrieked. “It will sting!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense; it won’t sting,” said Pyotr Dmitritch. “What a coward you are!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” cried Lubotchka; and looking round at the bees, she walked + rapidly back. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch walked away after her, looking at her with a softened and + melancholy face. He was probably thinking, as he looked at her, of his + farm, of solitude, and—who knows?—perhaps he was even thinking + how snug and cosy life would be at the farm if his wife had been this girl—young, + pure, fresh, not corrupted by higher education, not with child. . . . + </p> + <p> + When the sound of their footsteps had died away, Olga Mihalovna came out + of the shanty and turned towards the house. She wanted to cry. She was by + now acutely jealous. She could understand that her husband was worried, + dissatisfied with himself and ashamed, and when people are ashamed they + hold aloof, above all from those nearest to them, and are unreserved with + strangers; she could understand, also, that she had nothing to fear from + Lubotchka or from those women who were now drinking coffee indoors. But + everything in general was terrible, incomprehensible, and it already + seemed to Olga Mihalovna that Pyotr Dmitritch only half belonged to her. + </p> + <p> + “He has no right to do it!” she muttered, trying to formulate her jealousy + and her vexation with her husband. “He has no right at all. I will tell + him so plainly!” + </p> + <p> + She made up her mind to find her husband at once and tell him all about + it: it was disgusting, absolutely disgusting, that he was attractive to + other women and sought their admiration as though it were some heavenly + manna; it was unjust and dishonourable that he should give to others what + belonged by right to his wife, that he should hide his soul and his + conscience from his wife to reveal them to the first pretty face he came + across. What harm had his wife done him? How was she to blame? Long ago + she had been sickened by his lying: he was for ever posing, flirting, + saying what he did not think, and trying to seem different from what he + was and what he ought to be. Why this falsity? Was it seemly in a decent + man? If he lied he was demeaning himself and those to whom he lied, and + slighting what he lied about. Could he not understand that if he swaggered + and posed at the judicial table, or held forth at dinner on the + prerogatives of Government, that he, simply to provoke her uncle, was + showing thereby that he had not a ha’p’orth of respect for the Court, or + himself, or any of the people who were listening and looking at him? + </p> + <p> + Coming out into the big avenue, Olga Mihalovna assumed an expression of + face as though she had just gone away to look after some domestic matter. + In the verandah the gentlemen were drinking liqueur and eating + strawberries: one of them, the Examining Magistrate—a stout elderly + man, <i>blagueur</i> and wit—must have been telling some rather free + anecdote, for, seeing their hostess, he suddenly clapped his hands over + his fat lips, rolled his eyes, and sat down. Olga Mihalovna did not like + the local officials. She did not care for their clumsy, ceremonious wives, + their scandal-mongering, their frequent visits, their flattery of her + husband, whom they all hated. Now, when they were drinking, were replete + with food and showed no signs of going away, she felt their presence an + agonizing weariness; but not to appear impolite, she smiled cordially to + the Magistrate, and shook her finger at him. She walked across the + dining-room and drawing-room smiling, and looking as though she had gone + to give some order and make some arrangement. “God grant no one stops me,” + she thought, but she forced herself to stop in the drawing-room to listen + from politeness to a young man who was sitting at the piano playing: after + standing for a minute, she cried, “Bravo, bravo, M. Georges!” and clapping + her hands twice, she went on. + </p> + <p> + She found her husband in his study. He was sitting at the table, thinking + of something. His face looked stern, thoughtful, and guilty. This was not + the same Pyotr Dmitritch who had been arguing at dinner and whom his + guests knew, but a different man—wearied, feeling guilty and + dissatisfied with himself, whom nobody knew but his wife. He must have + come to the study to get cigarettes. Before him lay an open cigarette-case + full of cigarettes, and one of his hands was in the table drawer; he had + paused and sunk into thought as he was taking the cigarettes. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna felt sorry for him. It was as clear as day that this man + was harassed, could find no rest, and was perhaps struggling with himself. + Olga Mihalovna went up to the table in silence: wanting to show that she + had forgotten the argument at dinner and was not cross, she shut the + cigarette-case and put it in her husband’s coat pocket. + </p> + <p> + “What should I say to him?” she wondered; “I shall say that lying is like + a forest—the further one goes into it the more difficult it is to + get out of it. I will say to him, ‘You have been carried away by the false + part you are playing; you have insulted people who were attached to you + and have done you no harm. Go and apologize to them, laugh at yourself, + and you will feel better. And if you want peace and solitude, let us go + away together.’” + </p> + <p> + Meeting his wife’s gaze, Pyotr Dmitritch’s face immediately assumed the + expression it had worn at dinner and in the garden—indifferent and + slightly ironical. He yawned and got up. + </p> + <p> + “It’s past five,” he said, looking at his watch. “If our visitors are + merciful and leave us at eleven, even then we have another six hours of + it. It’s a cheerful prospect, there’s no denying!” + </p> + <p> + And whistling something, he walked slowly out of the study with his usual + dignified gait. She could hear him with dignified firmness cross the + dining-room, then the drawing-room, laugh with dignified assurance, and + say to the young man who was playing, “Bravo! bravo!” Soon his footsteps + died away: he must have gone out into the garden. And now not jealousy, + not vexation, but real hatred of his footsteps, his insincere laugh and + voice, took possession of Olga Mihalovna. She went to the window and + looked out into the garden. Pyotr Dmitritch was already walking along the + avenue. Putting one hand in his pocket and snapping the fingers of the + other, he walked with confident swinging steps, throwing his head back a + little, and looking as though he were very well satisfied with himself, + with his dinner, with his digestion, and with nature. . . . + </p> + <p> + Two little schoolboys, the children of Madame Tchizhevsky, who had only + just arrived, made their appearance in the avenue, accompanied by their + tutor, a student wearing a white tunic and very narrow trousers. When they + reached Pyotr Dmitritch, the boys and the student stopped, and probably + congratulated him on his name-day. With a graceful swing of his shoulders, + he patted the children on their cheeks, and carelessly offered the student + his hand without looking at him. The student must have praised the weather + and compared it with the climate of Petersburg, for Pyotr Dmitritch said + in a loud voice, in a tone as though he were not speaking to a guest, but + to an usher of the court or a witness: + </p> + <p> + “What! It’s cold in Petersburg? And here, my good sir, we have a + salubrious atmosphere and the fruits of the earth in abundance. Eh? What?” + </p> + <p> + And thrusting one hand in his pocket and snapping the fingers of the + other, he walked on. Till he had disappeared behind the nut bushes, Olga + Mihalovna watched the back of his head in perplexity. How had this man of + thirty-four come by the dignified deportment of a general? How had he come + by that impressive, elegant manner? Where had he got that vibration of + authority in his voice? Where had he got these “what’s,” “to be sure’s,” + and “my good sir’s”? + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna remembered how in the first months of her marriage she had + felt dreary at home alone and had driven into the town to the Circuit + Court, at which Pyotr Dmitritch had sometimes presided in place of her + godfather, Count Alexey Petrovitch. In the presidential chair, wearing his + uniform and a chain on his breast, he was completely changed. Stately + gestures, a voice of thunder, “what,” “to be sure,” careless tones. . . . + Everything, all that was ordinary and human, all that was individual and + personal to himself that Olga Mihalovna was accustomed to seeing in him at + home, vanished in grandeur, and in the presidential chair there sat not + Pyotr Dmitritch, but another man whom every one called Mr. President. This + consciousness of power prevented him from sitting still in his place, and + he seized every opportunity to ring his bell, to glance sternly at the + public, to shout. . . . Where had he got his short-sight and his deafness + when he suddenly began to see and hear with difficulty, and, frowning + majestically, insisted on people speaking louder and coming closer to the + table? From the height of his grandeur he could hardly distinguish faces + or sounds, so that it seemed that if Olga Mihalovna herself had gone up to + him he would have shouted even to her, “Your name?” Peasant witnesses he + addressed familiarly, he shouted at the public so that his voice could be + heard even in the street, and behaved incredibly with the lawyers. If a + lawyer had to speak to him, Pyotr Dmitritch, turning a little away from + him, looked with half-closed eyes at the ceiling, meaning to signify + thereby that the lawyer was utterly superfluous and that he was neither + recognizing him nor listening to him; if a badly-dressed lawyer spoke, + Pyotr Dmitritch pricked up his ears and looked the man up and down with a + sarcastic, annihilating stare as though to say: “Queer sort of lawyers + nowadays!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” he would interrupt. + </p> + <p> + If a would-be eloquent lawyer mispronounced a foreign word, saying, for + instance, “factitious” instead of “fictitious,” Pyotr Dmitritch brightened + up at once and asked, “What? How? Factitious? What does that mean?” and + then observed impressively: “Don’t make use of words you do not + understand.” And the lawyer, finishing his speech, would walk away from + the table, red and perspiring, while Pyotr Dmitritch; with a + self-satisfied smile, would lean back in his chair triumphant. In his + manner with the lawyers he imitated Count Alexey Petrovitch a little, but + when the latter said, for instance, “Counsel for the defence, you keep + quiet for a little!” it sounded paternally good-natured and natural, while + the same words in Pyotr Dmitritch’s mouth were rude and artificial. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here were sounds + of applause. The young man had finished playing. Olga Mihalovna remembered + her guests and hurried into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “I have so enjoyed your playing,” she said, going up to the piano. “I have + so enjoyed it. You have a wonderful talent! But don’t you think our + piano’s out of tune?” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the two schoolboys walked into the room, accompanied by the + student. + </p> + <p> + “My goodness! Mitya and Kolya,” Olga Mihalovna drawled joyfully, going to + meet them: “How big they have grown! One would not know you! But where is + your mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you on the name-day,” the student began in a free-and-easy + tone, “and I wish you all happiness. Ekaterina Andreyevna sends her + congratulations and begs you to excuse her. She is not very well.” + </p> + <p> + “How unkind of her! I have been expecting her all day. Is it long since + you left Petersburg?” Olga Mihalovna asked the student. “What kind of + weather have you there now?” And without waiting for an answer, she looked + cordially at the schoolboys and repeated: + </p> + <p> + “How tall they have grown! It is not long since they used to come with + their nurse, and they are at school already! The old grow older while the + young grow up. . . . Have you had dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please don’t trouble!” said the student. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you have not had dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “For goodness’ sake, don’t trouble!” + </p> + <p> + “But I suppose you are hungry?” Olga Mihalovna said it in a harsh, rude + voice, with impatience and vexation—it escaped her unawares, but at + once she coughed, smiled, and flushed crimson. “How tall they have grown!” + she said softly. + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t trouble!” the student said once more. + </p> + <p> + The student begged her not to trouble; the boys said nothing; obviously + all three of them were hungry. Olga Mihalovna took them into the + dining-room and told Vassily to lay the table. + </p> + <p> + “How unkind of your mamma!” she said as she made them sit down. “She has + quite forgotten me. Unkind, unkind, unkind . . . you must tell her so. + What are you studying?” she asked the student. + </p> + <p> + “Medicine.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have a weakness for doctors, only fancy. I am very sorry my + husband is not a doctor. What courage any one must have to perform an + operation or dissect a corpse, for instance! Horrible! Aren’t you + frightened? I believe I should die of terror! Of course, you drink vodka?” + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “After your journey you must have something to drink. Though I am a woman, + even I drink sometimes. And Mitya and Kolya will drink Malaga. It’s not a + strong wine; you need not be afraid of it. What fine fellows they are, + really! They’ll be thinking of getting married next.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna talked without ceasing; she knew by experience that when + she had guests to entertain it was far easier and more comfortable to talk + than to listen. When you talk there is no need to strain your attention to + think of answers to questions, and to change your expression of face. But + unawares she asked the student a serious question; the student began a + lengthy speech and she was forced to listen. The student knew that she had + once been at the University, and so tried to seem a serious person as he + talked to her. + </p> + <p> + “What subject are you studying?” she asked, forgetting that she had + already put that question to him. + </p> + <p> + “Medicine.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna now remembered that she had been away from the ladies for a + long while. + </p> + <p> + “Yes? Then I suppose you are going to be a doctor?” she said, getting up. + “That’s splendid. I am sorry I did not go in for medicine myself. So you + will finish your dinner here, gentlemen, and then come into the garden. I + will introduce you to the young ladies.” + </p> + <p> + She went out and glanced at her watch: it was five minutes to six. And she + wondered that the time had gone so slowly, and thought with horror that + there were six more hours before midnight, when the party would break up. + How could she get through those six hours? What phrases could she utter? + How should she behave to her husband? + </p> + <p> + There was not a soul in the drawing-room or on the verandah. All the + guests were sauntering about the garden. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to suggest a walk in the birchwood before tea, or else a row + in the boats,” thought Olga Mihalovna, hurrying to the croquet ground, + from which came the sounds of voices and laughter. + </p> + <p> + “And sit the old people down to <i>vint</i>. . . .” She met Grigory the + footman coming from the croquet ground with empty bottles. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the ladies?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Among the raspberry-bushes. The master’s there, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good heavens!” some one on the croquet lawn shouted with + exasperation. “I have told you a thousand times over! To know the + Bulgarians you must see them! You can’t judge from the papers!” + </p> + <p> + Either because of the outburst or for some other reason, Olga Mihalovna + was suddenly aware of a terrible weakness all over, especially in her legs + and in her shoulders. She felt she could not bear to speak, to listen, or + to move. + </p> + <p> + “Grigory,” she said faintly and with an effort, “when you have to serve + tea or anything, please don’t appeal to me, don’t ask me anything, don’t + speak of anything. . . . Do it all yourself, and . . . and don’t make a + noise with your feet, I entreat you. . . . I can’t, because . . .” + </p> + <p> + Without finishing, she walked on towards the croquet lawn, but on the way + she thought of the ladies, and turned towards the raspberry-bushes. The + sky, the air, and the trees looked gloomy again and threatened rain; it + was hot and stifling. An immense flock of crows, foreseeing a storm, flew + cawing over the garden. The paths were more overgrown, darker, and + narrower as they got nearer the kitchen garden. In one of them, buried in + a thick tangle of wild pear, crab-apple, sorrel, young oaks, and hopbine, + clouds of tiny black flies swarmed round Olga Mihalovna. She covered her + face with her hands and began forcing herself to think of the little + creature . . . . There floated through her imagination the figures of + Grigory, Mitya, Kolya, the faces of the peasants who had come in the + morning to present their congratulations. + </p> + <p> + She heard footsteps, and she opened her eyes. Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch was + coming rapidly towards her. + </p> + <p> + “It’s you, dear? I am very glad . . .” he began, breathless. “A couple of + words. . . .” He mopped with his handkerchief his red shaven chin, then + suddenly stepped back a pace, flung up his hands and opened his eyes wide. + “My dear girl, how long is this going on?” he said rapidly, spluttering. + “I ask you: is there no limit to it? I say nothing of the demoralizing + effect of his martinet views on all around him, of the way he insults all + that is sacred and best in me and in every honest thinking man—I + will say nothing about that, but he might at least behave decently! Why, + he shouts, he bellows, gives himself airs, poses as a sort of Bonaparte, + does not let one say a word. . . . I don’t know what the devil’s the + matter with him! These lordly gestures, this condescending tone; and + laughing like a general! Who is he, allow me to ask you? I ask you, who is + he? The husband of his wife, with a few paltry acres and the rank of a + titular who has had the luck to marry an heiress! An upstart and a <i>junker</i>, + like so many others! A type out of Shtchedrin! Upon my word, it’s either + that he’s suffering from megalomania, or that old rat in his dotage, Count + Alexey Petrovitch, is right when he says that children and young people + are a long time growing up nowadays, and go on playing they are cabmen and + generals till they are forty!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true, that’s true,” Olga Mihalovna assented. “Let me pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Now just consider: what is it leading to?” her uncle went on, barring her + way. “How will this playing at being a general and a Conservative end? + Already he has got into trouble! Yes, to stand his trial! I am very glad + of it! That’s what his noise and shouting has brought him to—to + stand in the prisoner’s dock. And it’s not as though it were the Circuit + Court or something: it’s the Central Court! Nothing worse could be + imagined, I think! And then he has quarrelled with every one! He is + celebrating his name-day, and look, Vostryakov’s not here, nor Yahontov, + nor Vladimirov, nor Shevud, nor the Count. . . . There is no one, I + imagine, more Conservative than Count Alexey Petrovitch, yet even he has + not come. And he never will come again. He won’t come, you will see!” + </p> + <p> + “My God! but what has it to do with me?” asked Olga Mihalovna. + </p> + <p> + “What has it to do with you? Why, you are his wife! You are clever, you + have had a university education, and it was in your power to make him an + honest worker!” + </p> + <p> + “At the lectures I went to they did not teach us how to influence tiresome + people. It seems as though I should have to apologize to all of you for + having been at the University,” said Olga Mihalovna sharply. “Listen, + uncle. If people played the same scales over and over again the whole day + long in your hearing, you wouldn’t be able to sit still and listen, but + would run away. I hear the same thing over again for days together all the + year round. You must have pity on me at last.” + </p> + <p> + Her uncle pulled a very long face, then looked at her searchingly and + twisted his lips into a mocking smile. + </p> + <p> + “So that’s how it is,” he piped in a voice like an old woman’s. “I beg + your pardon!” he said, and made a ceremonious bow. “If you have fallen + under his influence yourself, and have abandoned your convictions, you + should have said so before. I beg your pardon!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have abandoned my convictions,” she cried. “There; make the most + of it!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon!” + </p> + <p> + Her uncle for the last time made her a ceremonious bow, a little on one + side, and, shrinking into himself, made a scrape with his foot and walked + back. + </p> + <p> + “Idiot!” thought Olga Mihalovna. “I hope he will go home.” + </p> + <p> + She found the ladies and the young people among the raspberries in the + kitchen garden. Some were eating raspberries; others, tired of eating + raspberries, were strolling about the strawberry beds or foraging among + the sugar-peas. A little on one side of the raspberry bed, near a + branching appletree propped up by posts which had been pulled out of an + old fence, Pyotr Dmitritch was mowing the grass. His hair was falling over + his forehead, his cravat was untied. His watch-chain was hanging loose. + Every step and every swing of the scythe showed skill and the possession + of immense physical strength. Near him were standing Lubotchka and the + daughters of a neighbour, Colonel Bukryeev—two anaemic and + unhealthily stout fair girls, Natalya and Valentina, or, as they were + always called, Nata and Vata, both wearing white frocks and strikingly + like each other. Pyotr Dmitritch was teaching them to mow. + </p> + <p> + “It’s very simple,” he said. “You have only to know how to hold the scythe + and not to get too hot over it—that is, not to use more force than + is necessary! Like this. . . . Wouldn’t you like to try?” he said, + offering the scythe to Lubotchka. “Come!” + </p> + <p> + Lubotchka took the scythe clumsily, blushed crimson, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid, Lubov Alexandrovna!” cried Olga Mihalovna, loud enough + for all the ladies to hear that she was with them. “Don’t be afraid! You + must learn! If you marry a Tolstoyan he will make you mow.” + </p> + <p> + Lubotchka raised the scythe, but began laughing again, and, helpless with + laughter, let go of it at once. She was ashamed and pleased at being + talked to as though grown up. Nata, with a cold, serious face, with no + trace of smiling or shyness, took the scythe, swung it and caught it in + the grass; Vata, also without a smile, as cold and serious as her sister, + took the scythe, and silently thrust it into the earth. Having done this, + the two sisters linked arms and walked in silence to the raspberries. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch laughed and played about like a boy, and this childish, + frolicsome mood in which he became exceedingly good-natured suited him far + better than any other. Olga Mihalovna loved him when he was like that. But + his boyishness did not usually last long. It did not this time; after + playing with the scythe, he for some reason thought it necessary to take a + serious tone about it. + </p> + <p> + “When I am mowing, I feel, do you know, healthier and more normal,” he + said. “If I were forced to confine myself to an intellectual life I + believe I should go out of my mind. I feel that I was not born to be a man + of culture! I ought to mow, plough, sow, drive out the horses.” + </p> + <p> + And Pyotr Dmitritch began a conversation with the ladies about the + advantages of physical labour, about culture, and then about the + pernicious effects of money, of property. Listening to her husband, Olga + Mihalovna, for some reason, thought of her dowry. + </p> + <p> + “And the time will come, I suppose,” she thought, “when he will not + forgive me for being richer than he. He is proud and vain. Maybe he will + hate me because he owes so much to me.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped near Colonel Bukryeev, who was eating raspberries and also + taking part in the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, making room for Olga Mihalovna and Pyotr Dmitritch. “The + ripest are here. . . . And so, according to Proudhon,” he went on, raising + his voice, “property is robbery. But I must confess I don’t believe in + Proudhon, and don’t consider him a philosopher. The French are not + authorities, to my thinking—God bless them!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as for Proudhons and Buckles and the rest of them, I am weak in + that department,” said Pyotr Dmitritch. “For philosophy you must apply to + my wife. She has been at University lectures and knows all your + Schopenhauers and Proudhons by heart. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna felt bored again. She walked again along a little path by + apple and pear trees, and looked again as though she was on some very + important errand. She reached the gardener’s cottage. In the doorway the + gardener’s wife, Varvara, was sitting together with her four little + children with big shaven heads. Varvara, too, was with child and expecting + to be confined on Elijah’s Day. After greeting her, Olga Mihalovna looked + at her and the children in silence and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Well, how do you feel?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right. . . .” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed. The two women seemed to understand each other without + words. + </p> + <p> + “It’s dreadful having one’s first baby,” said Olga Mihalovna after a + moment’s thought. “I keep feeling as though I shall not get through it, as + though I shall die.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancied that, too, but here I am alive. One has all sorts of fancies.” + </p> + <p> + Varvara, who was just going to have her fifth, looked down a little on her + mistress from the height of her experience and spoke in a rather didactic + tone, and Olga Mihalovna could not help feeling her authority; she would + have liked to have talked of her fears, of the child, of her sensations, + but she was afraid it might strike Varvara as naïve and trivial. And she + waited in silence for Varvara to say something herself. + </p> + <p> + “Olya, we are going indoors,” Pyotr Dmitritch called from the raspberries. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna liked being silent, waiting and watching Varvara. She would + have been ready to stay like that till night without speaking or having + any duty to perform. But she had to go. She had hardly left the cottage + when Lubotchka, Nata, and Vata came running to meet her. The sisters + stopped short abruptly a couple of yards away; Lubotchka ran right up to + her and flung herself on her neck. + </p> + <p> + “You dear, darling, precious,” she said, kissing her face and her neck. + “Let us go and have tea on the island!” + </p> + <p> + “On the island, on the island!” said the precisely similar Nata and Vata, + both at once, without a smile. + </p> + <p> + “But it’s going to rain, my dears.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not, it’s not,” cried Lubotchka with a woebegone face. “They’ve all + agreed to go. Dear! darling!” + </p> + <p> + “They are all getting ready to have tea on the island,” said Pyotr + Dmitritch, coming up. “See to arranging things. . . . We will all go in + the boats, and the samovars and all the rest of it must be sent in the + carriage with the servants.” + </p> + <p> + He walked beside his wife and gave her his arm. Olga Mihalovna had a + desire to say something disagreeable to her husband, something biting, + even about her dowry perhaps—the crueller the better, she felt. She + thought a little, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Why is it Count Alexey Petrovitch hasn’t come? What a pity!” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad he hasn’t come,” said Pyotr Dmitritch, lying. “I’m sick to + death of that old lunatic.” + </p> + <p> + “But yet before dinner you were expecting him so eagerly!” + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>alf an hour later + all the guests were crowding on the bank near the pile to which the boats + were fastened. They were all talking and laughing, and were in such + excitement and commotion that they could hardly get into the boats. Three + boats were crammed with passengers, while two stood empty. The keys for + unfastening these two boats had been somehow mislaid, and messengers were + continually running from the river to the house to look for them. Some + said Grigory had the keys, others that the bailiff had them, while others + suggested sending for a blacksmith and breaking the padlocks. And all + talked at once, interrupting and shouting one another down. Pyotr + Dmitritch paced impatiently to and fro on the bank, shouting: + </p> + <p> + “What the devil’s the meaning of it! The keys ought always to be lying in + the hall window! Who has dared to take them away? The bailiff can get a + boat of his own if he wants one!” + </p> + <p> + At last the keys were found. Then it appeared that two oars were missing. + Again there was a great hullabaloo. Pyotr Dmitritch, who was weary of + pacing about the bank, jumped into a long, narrow boat hollowed out of the + trunk of a poplar, and, lurching from side to side and almost falling into + the water, pushed off from the bank. The other boats followed him one + after another, amid loud laughter and the shrieks of the young ladies. + </p> + <p> + The white cloudy sky, the trees on the riverside, the boats with the + people in them, and the oars, were reflected in the water as in a mirror; + under the boats, far away below in the bottomless depths, was a second sky + with the birds flying across it. The bank on which the house and gardens + stood was high, steep, and covered with trees; on the other, which was + sloping, stretched broad green water-meadows with sheets of water + glistening in them. The boats had floated a hundred yards when, behind the + mournfully drooping willows on the sloping banks, huts and a herd of cows + came into sight; they began to hear songs, drunken shouts, and the strains + of a concertina. + </p> + <p> + Here and there on the river fishing-boats were scattered about, setting + their nets for the night. In one of these boats was the festive party, + playing on home-made violins and violoncellos. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna was sitting at the rudder; she was smiling affably and + talking a great deal to entertain her visitors, while she glanced + stealthily at her husband. He was ahead of them all, standing up punting + with one oar. The light sharp-nosed canoe, which all the guests called the + “death-trap”—while Pyotr Dmitritch, for some reason, called it <i>Penderaklia</i>—flew + along quickly; it had a brisk, crafty expression, as though it hated its + heavy occupant and was looking out for a favourable moment to glide away + from under his feet. Olga Mihalovna kept looking at her husband, and she + loathed his good looks which attracted every one, the back of his head, + his attitude, his familiar manner with women; she hated all the women + sitting in the boat with her, was jealous, and at the same time was + trembling every minute in terror that the frail craft would upset and + cause an accident. + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Pyotr!” she cried, while her heart fluttered with terror. “Sit + down! We believe in your courage without all that!” + </p> + <p> + She was worried, too, by the people who were in the boat with her. They + were all ordinary good sort of people like thousands of others, but now + each one of them struck her as exceptional and evil. In each one of them + she saw nothing but falsity. “That young man,” she thought, “rowing, in + gold-rimmed spectacles, with chestnut hair and a nice-looking beard: he is + a mamma’s darling, rich, and well-fed, and always fortunate, and every one + considers him an honourable, free-thinking, advanced man. It’s not a year + since he left the University and came to live in the district, but he + already talks of himself as ‘we active members of the Zemstvo.’ But in + another year he will be bored like so many others and go off to + Petersburg, and to justify running away, will tell every one that the + Zemstvos are good-for-nothing, and that he has been deceived in them. + While from the other boat his young wife keeps her eyes fixed on him, and + believes that he is ‘an active member of the Zemstvo,’ just as in a year + she will believe that the Zemstvo is good-for-nothing. And that stout, + carefully shaven gentleman in the straw hat with the broad ribbon, with an + expensive cigar in his mouth: he is fond of saying, ‘It is time to put + away dreams and set to work!’ He has Yorkshire pigs, Butler’s hives, + rape-seed, pine-apples, a dairy, a cheese factory, Italian bookkeeping by + double entry; but every summer he sells his timber and mortgages part of + his land to spend the autumn with his mistress in the Crimea. And there’s + Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch, who has quarrelled with Pyotr Dmitritch, and yet + for some reason does not go home.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna looked at the other boats, and there, too, she saw only + uninteresting, queer creatures, affected or stupid people. She thought of + all the people she knew in the district, and could not remember one person + of whom one could say or think anything good. They all seemed to her + mediocre, insipid, unintelligent, narrow, false, heartless; they all said + what they did not think, and did what they did not want to. Dreariness and + despair were stifling her; she longed to leave off smiling, to leap up and + cry out, “I am sick of you,” and then jump out and swim to the bank. + </p> + <p> + “I say, let’s take Pyotr Dmitritch in tow!” some one shouted. + </p> + <p> + “In tow, in tow!” the others chimed in. “Olga Mihalovna, take your husband + in tow.” + </p> + <p> + To take him in tow, Olga Mihalovna, who was steering, had to seize the + right moment and to catch bold of his boat by the chain at the beak. When + she bent over to the chain Pyotr Dmitritch frowned and looked at her in + alarm. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you won’t catch cold,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “If you are uneasy about me and the child, why do you torment me?” thought + Olga Mihalovna. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch acknowledged himself vanquished, and, not caring to be + towed, jumped from the <i>Penderaklia</i> into the boat which was overful + already, and jumped so carelessly that the boat lurched violently, and + every one cried out in terror. + </p> + <p> + “He did that to please the ladies,” thought Olga Mihalovna; “he knows it’s + charming.” Her hands and feet began trembling, as she supposed, from + boredom, vexation from the strain of smiling and the discomfort she felt + all over her body. And to conceal this trembling from her guests, she + tried to talk more loudly, to laugh, to move. + </p> + <p> + “If I suddenly begin to cry,” she thought, “I shall say I have toothache. + . . .” + </p> + <p> + But at last the boats reached the “Island of Good Hope,” as they called + the peninsula formed by a bend in the river at an acute angle, covered + with a copse of old birch-trees, oaks, willows, and poplars. The tables + were already laid under the trees; the samovars were smoking, and Vassily + and Grigory, in their swallow-tails and white knitted gloves, were already + busy with the tea-things. On the other bank, opposite the “Island of Good + Hope,” there stood the carriages which had come with the provisions. The + baskets and parcels of provisions were carried across to the island in a + little boat like the <i>Penderaklia</i>. The footmen, the coachmen, and + even the peasant who was sitting in the boat, had the solemn expression + befitting a name-day such as one only sees in children and servants. + </p> + <p> + While Olga Mihalovna was making the tea and pouring out the first glasses, + the visitors were busy with the liqueurs and sweet things. Then there was + the general commotion usual at picnics over drinking tea, very wearisome + and exhausting for the hostess. Grigory and Vassily had hardly had time to + take the glasses round before hands were being stretched out to Olga + Mihalovna with empty glasses. One asked for no sugar, another wanted it + stronger, another weak, a fourth declined another glass. And all this Olga + Mihalovna had to remember, and then to call, “Ivan Petrovitch, is it + without sugar for you?” or, “Gentlemen, which of you wanted it weak?” But + the guest who had asked for weak tea, or no sugar, had by now forgotten + it, and, absorbed in agreeable conversation, took the first glass that + came. Depressed-looking figures wandered like shadows at a little distance + from the table, pretending to look for mushrooms in the grass, or reading + the labels on the boxes—these were those for whom there were not + glasses enough. “Have you had tea?” Olga Mihalovna kept asking, and the + guest so addressed begged her not to trouble, and said, “I will wait,” + though it would have suited her better for the visitors not to wait but to + make haste. + </p> + <p> + Some, absorbed in conversation, drank their tea slowly, keeping their + glasses for half an hour; others, especially some who had drunk a good + deal at dinner, would not leave the table, and kept on drinking glass + after glass, so that Olga Mihalovna scarcely had time to fill them. One + jocular young man sipped his tea through a lump of sugar, and kept saying, + “Sinful man that I am, I love to indulge myself with the Chinese herb.” He + kept asking with a heavy sigh: “Another tiny dish of tea more, if you + please.” He drank a great deal, nibbled his sugar, and thought it all very + amusing and original, and imagined that he was doing a clever imitation of + a Russian merchant. None of them understood that these trifles were + agonizing to their hostess, and, indeed, it was hard to understand it, as + Olga Mihalovna went on all the time smiling affably and talking nonsense. + </p> + <p> + But she felt ill. . . . She was irritated by the crowd of people, the + laughter, the questions, the jocular young man, the footmen harassed and + run off their legs, the children who hung round the table; she was + irritated at Vata’s being like Nata, at Kolya’s being like Mitya, so that + one could not tell which of them had had tea and which of them had not. + She felt that her smile of forced affability was passing into an + expression of anger, and she felt every minute as though she would burst + into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Rain, my friends,” cried some one. + </p> + <p> + Every one looked at the sky. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it really is rain . . .” Pyotr Dmitritch assented, and wiped his + cheek. + </p> + <p> + Only a few drops were falling from the sky—the real rain had not + begun yet; but the company abandoned their tea and made haste to get off. + At first they all wanted to drive home in the carriages, but changed their + minds and made for the boats. On the pretext that she had to hasten home + to give directions about the supper, Olga Mihalovna asked to be excused + for leaving the others, and went home in the carriage. + </p> + <p> + When she got into the carriage, she first of all let her face rest from + smiling. With an angry face she drove through the village, and with an + angry face acknowledged the bows of the peasants she met. When she got + home, she went to the bedroom by the back way and lay down on her + husband’s bed. + </p> + <p> + “Merciful God!” she whispered. “What is all this hard labour for? Why do + all these people hustle each other here and pretend that they are enjoying + themselves? Why do I smile and lie? I don’t understand it.” + </p> + <p> + She heard steps and voices. The visitors had come back. + </p> + <p> + “Let them come,” thought Olga Mihalovna; “I shall lie a little longer.” + </p> + <p> + But a maid-servant came and said: + </p> + <p> + “Marya Grigoryevna is going, madam.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna jumped up, tidied her hair and hurried out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Marya Grigoryevna, what is the meaning of this?” she began in an injured + voice, going to meet Marya Grigoryevna. “Why are you in such a hurry?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help it, darling! I’ve stayed too long as it is; my children are + expecting me home.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s too bad of you! Why didn’t you bring your children with you?” + </p> + <p> + “If you will let me, dear, I will bring them on some ordinary day, but + to-day . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please do,” Olga Mihalovna interrupted; “I shall be delighted! Your + children are so sweet! Kiss them all for me. . . . But, really, I am + offended with you! I don’t understand why you are in such a hurry!” + </p> + <p> + “I really must, I really must. . . . Good-bye, dear. Take care of + yourself. In your condition, you know . . .” + </p> + <p> + And the ladies kissed each other. After seeing the departing guest to her + carriage, Olga Mihalovna went in to the ladies in the drawing-room. There + the lamps were already lighted and the gentlemen were sitting down to + cards. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he party broke up + after supper about a quarter past twelve. Seeing her visitors off, Olga + Mihalovna stood at the door and said: + </p> + <p> + “You really ought to take a shawl! It’s turning a little chilly. Please + God, you don’t catch cold!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t trouble, Olga Mihalovna,” the ladies answered as they got into the + carriage. “Well, good-bye. Mind now, we are expecting you; don’t play us + false!” + </p> + <p> + “Wo-o-o!” the coachman checked the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Ready, Denis! Good-bye, Olga Mihalovna!” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss the children for me!” + </p> + <p> + The carriage started and immediately disappeared into the darkness. In the + red circle of light cast by the lamp in the road, a fresh pair or trio of + impatient horses, and the silhouette of a coachman with his hands held out + stiffly before him, would come into view. Again there began kisses, + reproaches, and entreaties to come again or to take a shawl. Pyotr + Dmitritch kept running out and helping the ladies into their carriages. + </p> + <p> + “You go now by Efremovshtchina,” he directed the coachman; “it’s nearer + through Mankino, but the road is worse that way. You might have an upset. + . . . Good-bye, my charmer. <i>Mille</i> compliments to your artist!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Olga Mihalovna, darling! Go indoors, or you will catch cold! + It’s damp!” + </p> + <p> + “Wo-o-o! you rascal!” + </p> + <p> + “What horses have you got here?” Pyotr Dmitritch asked. + </p> + <p> + “They were bought from Haidorov, in Lent,” answered the coachman. + </p> + <p> + “Capital horses. . . .” + </p> + <p> + And Pyotr Dmitritch patted the trace horse on the haunch. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can start! God give you good luck!” + </p> + <p> + The last visitor was gone at last; the red circle on the road quivered, + moved aside, contracted and went out, as Vassily carried away the lamp + from the entrance. On previous occasions when they had seen off their + visitors, Pyotr Dmitritch and Olga Mihalovna had begun dancing about the + drawing-room, facing each other, clapping their hands and singing: + “They’ve gone! They’ve gone!” But now Olga Mihalovna was not equal to + that. She went to her bedroom, undressed, and got into bed. + </p> + <p> + She fancied she would fall asleep at once and sleep soundly. Her legs and + her shoulders ached painfully, her head was heavy from the strain of + talking, and she was conscious, as before, of discomfort all over her + body. Covering her head over, she lay still for three or four minutes, + then peeped out from under the bed-clothes at the lamp before the ikon, + listened to the silence, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It’s nice, it’s nice,” she whispered, curling up her legs, which felt as + if they had grown longer from so much walking. “Sleep, sleep . . . .” + </p> + <p> + Her legs would not get into a comfortable position; she felt uneasy all + over, and she turned on the other side. A big fly blew buzzing about the + bedroom and thumped against the ceiling. She could hear, too, Grigory and + Vassily stepping cautiously about the drawing-room, putting the chairs + back in their places; it seemed to Olga Mihalovna that she could not go to + sleep, nor be comfortable till those sounds were hushed. And again she + turned over on the other side impatiently. + </p> + <p> + She heard her husband’s voice in the drawing-room. Some one must be + staying the night, as Pyotr Dmitritch was addressing some one and speaking + loudly: + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say that Count Alexey Petrovitch is an impostor. But he can’t + help seeming to be one, because all of you gentlemen attempt to see in him + something different from what he really is. His craziness is looked upon + as originality, his familiar manners as good-nature, and his complete + absence of opinions as Conservatism. Even granted that he is a + Conservative of the stamp of ‘84, what after all is Conservatism?” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch, angry with Count Alexey Petrovitch, his visitors, and + himself, was relieving his heart. He abused both the Count and his + visitors, and in his vexation with himself was ready to speak out and to + hold forth upon anything. After seeing his guest to his room, he walked up + and down the drawing-room, walked through the dining-room, down the + corridor, then into his study, then again went into the drawing-room, and + came into the bedroom. Olga Mihalovna was lying on her back, with the + bed-clothes only to her waist (by now she felt hot), and with an angry + face, watched the fly that was thumping against the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Is some one staying the night?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yegorov.” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch undressed and got into his bed. + </p> + <p> + Without speaking, he lighted a cigarette, and he, too, fell to watching + the fly. There was an uneasy and forbidding look in his eyes. Olga + Mihalovna looked at his handsome profile for five minutes in silence. It + seemed to her for some reason that if her husband were suddenly to turn + facing her, and to say, “Olga, I am unhappy,” she would cry or laugh, and + she would be at ease. She fancied that her legs were aching and her body + was uncomfortable all over because of the strain on her feelings. + </p> + <p> + “Pyotr, what are you thinking of?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing . . .” her husband answered. + </p> + <p> + “You have taken to having secrets from me of late: that’s not right.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it not right?” answered Pyotr Dmitritch drily and not at once. “We + all have our personal life, every one of us, and we are bound to have our + secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “Personal life, our secrets . . . that’s all words! Understand you are + wounding me!” said Olga Mihalovna, sitting up in bed. “If you have a load + on your heart, why do you hide it from me? And why do you find it more + suitable to open your heart to women who are nothing to you, instead of to + your wife? I overheard your outpourings to Lubotchka by the bee-house + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I congratulate you. I am glad you did overhear it.” + </p> + <p> + This meant “Leave me alone and let me think.” Olga Mihalovna was + indignant. Vexation, hatred, and wrath, which had been accumulating within + her during the whole day, suddenly boiled over; she wanted at once to + speak out, to hurt her husband without putting it off till to-morrow, to + wound him, to punish him. . . . Making an effort to control herself and + not to scream, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you, then, that it’s all loathsome, loathsome, loathsome! + I’ve been hating you all day; you see what you’ve done.” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch, too, got up and sat on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “It’s loathsome, loathsome, loathsome,” Olga Mihalovna went on, beginning + to tremble all over. “There’s no need to congratulate me; you had better + congratulate yourself! It’s a shame, a disgrace. You have wrapped yourself + in lies till you are ashamed to be alone in the room with your wife! You + are a deceitful man! I see through you and understand every step you + take!” + </p> + <p> + “Olya, I wish you would please warn me when you are out of humour. Then I + will sleep in the study.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, Pyotr Dmitritch picked up his pillow and walked out of the + bedroom. Olga Mihalovna had not foreseen this. For some minutes she + remained silent with her mouth open, trembling all over and looking at the + door by which her husband had gone out, and trying to understand what it + meant. Was this one of the devices to which deceitful people have recourse + when they are in the wrong, or was it a deliberate insult aimed at her + pride? How was she to take it? Olga Mihalovna remembered her cousin, a + lively young officer, who often used to tell her, laughing, that when “his + spouse nagged at him” at night, he usually picked up his pillow and went + whistling to spend the night in his study, leaving his wife in a foolish + and ridiculous position. This officer was married to a rich, capricious, + and foolish woman whom he did not respect but simply put up with. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna jumped out of bed. To her mind there was only one thing + left for her to do now; to dress with all possible haste and to leave the + house forever. The house was her own, but so much the worse for Pyotr + Dmitritch. Without pausing to consider whether this was necessary or not, + she went quickly to the study to inform her husband of her intention + (“Feminine logic!” flashed through her mind), and to say something + wounding and sarcastic at parting. . . . + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch was lying on the sofa and pretending to read a newspaper. + There was a candle burning on a chair near him. His face could not be seen + behind the newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “Be so kind as to tell me what this means? I am asking you.” + </p> + <p> + “Be so kind . . .” Pyotr Dmitritch mimicked her, not showing his face. + “It’s sickening, Olga! Upon my honour, I am exhausted and not up to it. . + . . Let us do our quarrelling to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I understand you perfectly!” Olga Mihalovna went on. “You hate me! + Yes, yes! You hate me because I am richer than you! You will never forgive + me for that, and will always be lying to me!” (“Feminine logic!” flashed + through her mind again.) “You are laughing at me now. . . . I am + convinced, in fact, that you only married me in order to have property + qualifications and those wretched horses. . . . Oh, I am miserable!” + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch dropped the newspaper and got up. The unexpected insult + overwhelmed him. With a childishly helpless smile he looked desperately at + his wife, and holding out his hands to her as though to ward off blows, he + said imploringly: + </p> + <p> + “Olya!” + </p> + <p> + And expecting her to say something else awful, he leaned back in his + chair, and his huge figure seemed as helplessly childish as his smile. + </p> + <p> + “Olya, how could you say it?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna came to herself. She was suddenly aware of her passionate + love for this man, remembered that he was her husband, Pyotr Dmitritch, + without whom she could not live for a day, and who loved her passionately, + too. She burst into loud sobs that sounded strange and unlike her, and ran + back to her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + She fell on the bed, and short hysterical sobs, choking her and making her + arms and legs twitch, filled the bedroom. Remembering there was a visitor + sleeping three or four rooms away, she buried her head under the pillow to + stifle her sobs, but the pillow rolled on to the floor, and she almost + fell on the floor herself when she stooped to pick it up. She pulled the + quilt up to her face, but her hands would not obey her, but tore + convulsively at everything she clutched. + </p> + <p> + She thought that everything was lost, that the falsehood she had told to + wound her husband had shattered her life into fragments. Her husband would + not forgive her. The insult she had hurled at him was not one that could + be effaced by any caresses, by any vows. . . . How could she convince her + husband that she did not believe what she had said? + </p> + <p> + “It’s all over, it’s all over!” she cried, not noticing that the pillow + had slipped on to the floor again. “For God’s sake, for God’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + Probably roused by her cries, the guest and the servants were now awake; + next day all the neighbourhood would know that she had been in hysterics + and would blame Pyotr Dmitritch. She made an effort to restrain herself, + but her sobs grew louder and louder every minute. + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake,” she cried in a voice not like her own, and not knowing + why she cried it. “For God’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + She felt as though the bed were heaving under her and her feet were + entangled in the bed-clothes. Pyotr Dmitritch, in his dressing-gown, with + a candle in his hand, came into the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “Olya, hush!” he said. + </p> + <p> + She raised herself, and kneeling up in bed, screwing up her eyes at the + light, articulated through her sobs: + </p> + <p> + “Understand . . . understand! . . . .” + </p> + <p> + She wanted to tell him that she was tired to death by the party, by his + falsity, by her own falsity, that it had all worked together, but she + could only articulate: + </p> + <p> + “Understand . . . understand!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, drink!” he said, handing her some water. + </p> + <p> + She took the glass obediently and began drinking, but the water splashed + over and was spilt on her arms, her throat and knees. + </p> + <p> + “I must look horribly unseemly,” she thought. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch put her back in bed without a word, and covered her with + the quilt, then he took the candle and went out. + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake!” Olga Mihalovna cried again. “Pyotr, understand, + understand!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly something gripped her in the lower part of her body and back with + such violence that her wailing was cut short, and she bit the pillow from + the pain. But the pain let her go again at once, and she began sobbing + again. + </p> + <p> + The maid came in, and arranging the quilt over her, asked in alarm: + </p> + <p> + “Mistress, darling, what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Go out of the room,” said Pyotr Dmitritch sternly, going up to the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Understand . . . understand! . . .” Olga Mihalovna began. + </p> + <p> + “Olya, I entreat you, calm yourself,” he said. “I did not mean to hurt + you. I would not have gone out of the room if I had known it would have + hurt you so much; I simply felt depressed. I tell you, on my honour . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Understand! . . . You were lying, I was lying. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. . . . Come, come, that’s enough! I understand,” said Pyotr + Dmitritch tenderly, sitting down on her bed. “You said that in anger; I + quite understand. I swear to God I love you beyond anything on earth, and + when I married you I never once thought of your being rich. I loved you + immensely, and that’s all . . . I assure you. I have never been in want of + money or felt the value of it, and so I cannot feel the difference between + your fortune and mine. It always seemed to me we were equally well off. + And that I have been deceitful in little things, that . . . of course, is + true. My life has hitherto been arranged in such a frivolous way that it + has somehow been impossible to get on without paltry lying. It weighs on + me, too, now. . . . Let us leave off talking about it, for goodness’ + sake!” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna again felt in acute pain, and clutched her husband by the + sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “I am in pain, in pain, in pain . . .” she said rapidly. “Oh, what pain!” + </p> + <p> + “Damnation take those visitors!” muttered Pyotr Dmitritch, getting up. + “You ought not to have gone to the island to-day!” he cried. “What an + idiot I was not to prevent you! Oh, my God!” + </p> + <p> + He scratched his head in vexation, and, with a wave of his hand, walked + out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Then he came into the room several times, sat down on the bed beside her, + and talked a great deal, sometimes tenderly, sometimes angrily, but she + hardly heard him. Her sobs were continually interrupted by fearful attacks + of pain, and each time the pain was more acute and prolonged. At first she + held her breath and bit the pillow during the pain, but then she began + screaming on an unseemly piercing note. Once seeing her husband near her, + she remembered that she had insulted him, and without pausing to think + whether it were really Pyotr Dmitritch or whether she were in delirium, + clutched his hand in both hers and began kissing it. + </p> + <p> + “You were lying, I was lying . . .” she began justifying herself. + “Understand, understand. . . . They have exhausted me, driven me out of + all patience.” + </p> + <p> + “Olya, we are not alone,” said Pyotr Dmitritch. + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna raised her head and saw Varvara, who was kneeling by the + chest of drawers and pulling out the bottom drawer. The top drawers were + already open. Then Varvara got up, red from the strained position, and + with a cold, solemn face began trying to unlock a box. + </p> + <p> + “Marya, I can’t unlock it!” she said in a whisper. “You unlock it, won’t + you?” + </p> + <p> + Marya, the maid, was digging a candle end out of the candlestick with a + pair of scissors, so as to put in a new candle; she went up to Varvara and + helped her to unlock the box. + </p> + <p> + “There should be nothing locked . . .” whispered Varvara. “Unlock this + basket, too, my good girl. Master,” she said, “you should send to Father + Mihail to unlock the holy gates! You must!” + </p> + <p> + “Do what you like,” said Pyotr Dmitritch, breathing hard, “only, for God’s + sake, make haste and fetch the doctor or the midwife! Has Vassily gone? + Send some one else. Send your husband!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the birth,” Olga Mihalovna thought. “Varvara,” she moaned, “but he + won’t be born alive!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, it’s all right, mistress,” whispered Varvara. “Please + God, he will be alive! he will be alive!” + </p> + <p> + When Olga Mihalovna came to herself again after a pain she was no longer + sobbing nor tossing from side to side, but moaning. She could not refrain + from moaning even in the intervals between the pains. The candles were + still burning, but the morning light was coming through the blinds. It was + probably about five o’clock in the morning. At the round table there was + sitting some unknown woman with a very discreet air, wearing a white + apron. From her whole appearance it was evident she had been sitting there + a long time. Olga Mihalovna guessed that she was the midwife. + </p> + <p> + “Will it soon be over?” she asked, and in her voice she heard a peculiar + and unfamiliar note which had never been there before. “I must be dying in + childbirth,” she thought. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch came cautiously into the bedroom, dressed for the day, and + stood at the window with his back to his wife. He lifted the blind and + looked out of window. + </p> + <p> + “What rain!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What time is it?” asked Olga Mihalovna, in order to hear the unfamiliar + note in her voice again. + </p> + <p> + “A quarter to six,” answered the midwife. + </p> + <p> + “And what if I really am dying?” thought Olga Mihalovna, looking at her + husband’s head and the window-panes on which the rain was beating. “How + will he live without me? With whom will he have tea and dinner, talk in + the evenings, sleep?” + </p> + <p> + And he seemed to her like a forlorn child; she felt sorry for him and + wanted to say something nice, caressing and consolatory. She remembered + how in the spring he had meant to buy himself some harriers, and she, + thinking it a cruel and dangerous sport, had prevented him from doing it. + </p> + <p> + “Pyotr, buy yourself harriers,” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + He dropped the blind and went up to the bed, and would have said + something; but at that moment the pain came back, and Olga Mihalovna + uttered an unseemly, piercing scream. + </p> + <p> + The pain and the constant screaming and moaning stupefied her. She heard, + saw, and sometimes spoke, but hardly understood anything, and was only + conscious that she was in pain or was just going to be in pain. It seemed + to her that the nameday party had been long, long ago—not yesterday, + but a year ago perhaps; and that her new life of agony had lasted longer + than her childhood, her school-days, her time at the University, and her + marriage, and would go on for a long, long time, endlessly. She saw them + bring tea to the midwife, and summon her at midday to lunch and afterwards + to dinner; she saw Pyotr Dmitritch grow used to coming in, standing for + long intervals by the window, and going out again; saw strange men, the + maid, Varvara, come in as though they were at home. . . . Varvara said + nothing but, “He will, he will,” and was angry when any one closed the + drawers and the chest. Olga Mihalovna saw the light change in the room and + in the windows: at one time it was twilight, then thick like fog, then + bright daylight as it had been at dinner-time the day before, then again + twilight . . . and each of these changes lasted as long as her childhood, + her school-days, her life at the University. . . . + </p> + <p> + In the evening two doctors—one bony, bald, with a big red beard; the + other with a swarthy Jewish face and cheap spectacles—performed some + sort of operation on Olga Mihalovna. To these unknown men touching her + body she felt utterly indifferent. By now she had no feeling of shame, no + will, and any one might do what he would with her. If any one had rushed + at her with a knife, or had insulted Pyotr Dmitritch, or had robbed her of + her right to the little creature, she would not have said a word. + </p> + <p> + They gave her chloroform during the operation. When she came to again, the + pain was still there and insufferable. It was night. And Olga Mihalovna + remembered that there had been just such a night with the stillness, the + lamp, with the midwife sitting motionless by the bed, with the drawers of + the chest pulled out, with Pyotr Dmitritch standing by the window, but + some time very, very long ago. . . . + </p> + <h3> + V + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">“I</span> am not dead . . + .” thought Olga Mihalovna when she began to understand her surroundings + again, and when the pain was over. + </p> + <p> + A bright summer day looked in at the widely open windows; in the garden + below the windows, the sparrows and the magpies never ceased chattering + for one instant. + </p> + <p> + The drawers were shut now, her husband’s bed had been made. There was no + sign of the midwife or of the maid, or of Varvara in the room, only Pyotr + Dmitritch was standing, as before, motionless by the window looking into + the garden. There was no sound of a child’s crying, no one was + congratulating her or rejoicing, it was evident that the little creature + had not been born alive. + </p> + <p> + “Pyotr!” + </p> + <p> + Olga Mihalovna called to her husband. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch looked round. It seemed as though a long time must have + passed since the last guest had departed and Olga Mihalovna had insulted + her husband, for Pyotr Dmitritch was perceptibly thinner and hollow-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked, coming up to the bed. + </p> + <p> + He looked away, moved his lips and smiled with childlike helplessness. + </p> + <p> + “Is it all over?” asked Olga Mihalovna. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Dmitritch tried to make some answer, but his lips quivered and his + mouth worked like a toothless old man’s, like Uncle Nikolay Nikolaitch’s. + </p> + <p> + “Olya,” he said, wringing his hands; big tears suddenly dropping from his + eyes. “Olya, I don’t care about your property qualification, nor the + Circuit Courts . . .” (he gave a sob) “nor particular views, nor those + visitors, nor your fortune. . . . I don’t care about anything! Why didn’t + we take care of our child? Oh, it’s no good talking!” + </p> + <p> + With a despairing gesture he went out of the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + But nothing mattered to Olga Mihalovna now, there was a mistiness in her + brain from the chloroform, an emptiness in her soul. . . . The dull + indifference to life which had overcome her when the two doctors were + performing the operation still had possession of her. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TERROR + </h2> + <h3> + My Friend’s Story + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>MITRI PETROVITCH + SILIN had taken his degree and entered the government service in + Petersburg, but at thirty he gave up his post and went in for agriculture. + His farming was fairly successful, and yet it always seemed to me that he + was not in his proper place, and that he would do well to go back to + Petersburg. When sunburnt, grey with dust, exhausted with toil, he met me + near the gates or at the entrance, and then at supper struggled with + sleepiness and his wife took him off to bed as though he were a baby; or + when, overcoming his sleepiness, he began in his soft, cordial, almost + imploring voice, to talk about his really excellent ideas, I saw him not + as a farmer nor an agriculturist, but only as a worried and exhausted man, + and it was clear to me that he did not really care for farming, but that + all he wanted was for the day to be over and “Thank God for it.” + </p> + <p> + I liked to be with him, and I used to stay on his farm for two or three + days at a time. I liked his house, and his park, and his big fruit garden, + and the river—and his philosophy, which was clear, though rather + spiritless and rhetorical. I suppose I was fond of him on his own account, + though I can’t say that for certain, as I have not up to now succeeded in + analysing my feelings at that time. He was an intelligent, kind-hearted, + genuine man, and not a bore, but I remember that when he confided to me + his most treasured secrets and spoke of our relation to each other as + friendship, it disturbed me unpleasantly, and I was conscious of + awkwardness. In his affection for me there was something inappropriate, + tiresome, and I should have greatly preferred commonplace friendly + relations. + </p> + <p> + The fact is that I was extremely attracted by his wife, Marya Sergeyevna. + I was not in love with her, but I was attracted by her face, her eyes, her + voice, her walk. I missed her when I did not see her for a long time, and + my imagination pictured no one at that time so eagerly as that young, + beautiful, elegant woman. I had no definite designs in regard to her, and + did not dream of anything of the sort, yet for some reason, whenever we + were left alone, I remembered that her husband looked upon me as his + friend, and I felt awkward. When she played my favourite pieces on the + piano or told me something interesting, I listened with pleasure, and yet + at the same time for some reason the reflection that she loved her + husband, that he was my friend, and that she herself looked upon me as his + friend, obtruded themselves upon me, my spirits flagged, and I became + listless, awkward, and dull. She noticed this change and would usually + say: + </p> + <p> + “You are dull without your friend. We must send out to the fields for + him.” + </p> + <p> + And when Dmitri Petrovitch came in, she would say: + </p> + <p> + “Well, here is your friend now. Rejoice.” + </p> + <p> + So passed a year and a half. + </p> + <p> + It somehow happened one July Sunday that Dmitri Petrovitch and I, having + nothing to do, drove to the big village of Klushino to buy things for + supper. While we were going from one shop to another the sun set and the + evening came on—the evening which I shall probably never forget in + my life. After buying cheese that smelt like soap, and petrified sausages + that smelt of tar, we went to the tavern to ask whether they had any beer. + Our coachman went off to the blacksmith to get our horses shod, and we + told him we would wait for him near the church. We walked, talked, laughed + over our purchases, while a man who was known in the district by a very + strange nickname, “Forty Martyrs,” followed us all the while in silence + with a mysterious air like a detective. This Forty Martyrs was no other + than Gavril Syeverov, or more simply Gavryushka, who had been for a short + time in my service as a footman and had been dismissed by me for + drunkenness. He had been in Dmitri Petrovitch’s service, too, and by him + had been dismissed for the same vice. He was an inveterate drunkard, and + indeed his whole life was as drunk and disorderly as himself. His father + had been a priest and his mother of noble rank, so by birth he belonged to + the privileged class; but however carefully I scrutinized his exhausted, + respectful, and always perspiring face, his red beard now turning grey, + his pitifully torn reefer jacket and his red shirt, I could not discover + in him the faintest trace of anything we associate with privilege. He + spoke of himself as a man of education, and used to say that he had been + in a clerical school, but had not finished his studies there, as he had + been expelled for smoking; then he had sung in the bishop’s choir and + lived for two years in a monastery, from which he was also expelled, but + this time not for smoking but for “his weakness.” He had walked all over + two provinces, had presented petitions to the Consistory, and to various + government offices, and had been four times on his trial. At last, being + stranded in our district, he had served as a footman, as a forester, as a + kennelman, as a sexton, had married a cook who was a widow and rather a + loose character, and had so hopelessly sunk into a menial position, and + had grown so used to filth and dirt, that he even spoke of his privileged + origin with a certain scepticism, as of some myth. At the time I am + describing, he was hanging about without a job, calling himself a carrier + and a huntsman, and his wife had disappeared and made no sign. + </p> + <p> + From the tavern we went to the church and sat in the porch, waiting for + the coachman. Forty Martyrs stood a little way off and put his hand before + his mouth in order to cough in it respectfully if need be. By now it was + dark; there was a strong smell of evening dampness, and the moon was on + the point of rising. There were only two clouds in the clear starry sky + exactly over our heads: one big one and one smaller; alone in the sky they + were racing after one another like mother and child, in the direction + where the sunset was glowing. + </p> + <p> + “What a glorious day!” said Dmitri Petrovitch. + </p> + <p> + “In the extreme . . .” Forty Martyrs assented, and he coughed respectfully + into his hand. “How was it, Dmitri Petrovitch, you thought to visit these + parts?” he asked in an ingratiating voice, evidently anxious to get up a + conversation. + </p> + <p> + Dmitri Petrovitch made no answer. Forty Martyrs heaved a deep sigh and + said softly, not looking at us: + </p> + <p> + “I suffer solely through a cause to which I must answer to Almighty God. + No doubt about it, I am a hopeless and incompetent man; but believe me, on + my conscience, I am without a crust of bread and worse off than a dog. . . + . Forgive me, Dmitri Petrovitch.” + </p> + <p> + Silin was not listening, but sat musing with his head propped on his + fists. The church stood at the end of the street on the high river-bank, + and through the trellis gate of the enclosure we could see the river, the + water-meadows on the near side of it, and the crimson glare of a camp fire + about which black figures of men and horses were moving. And beyond the + fire, further away, there were other lights, where there was a little + village. They were singing there. On the river, and here and there on the + meadows, a mist was rising. High narrow coils of mist, thick and white as + milk, were trailing over the river, hiding the reflection of the stars and + hovering over the willows. Every minute they changed their form, and it + seemed as though some were embracing, others were bowing, others lifting + up their arms to heaven with wide sleeves like priests, as though they + were praying. . . . Probably they reminded Dmitri Petrovitch of ghosts and + of the dead, for he turned facing me and asked with a mournful smile: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, my dear fellow, why is it that when we want to tell some + terrible, mysterious, and fantastic story, we draw our material, not from + life, but invariably from the world of ghosts and of the shadows beyond + the grave.” + </p> + <p> + “We are frightened of what we don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you understand life? Tell me: do you understand life better than + the world beyond the grave?” + </p> + <p> + Dmitri Petrovitch was sitting quite close to me, so that I felt his breath + upon my cheek. In the evening twilight his pale, lean face seemed paler + than ever and his dark beard was black as soot. His eyes were sad, + truthful, and a little frightened, as though he were about to tell me + something horrible. He looked into my eyes and went on in his habitual + imploring voice: + </p> + <p> + “Our life and the life beyond the grave are equally incomprehensible and + horrible. If any one is afraid of ghosts he ought to be afraid, too, of + me, and of those lights and of the sky, seeing that, if you come to + reflect, all that is no less fantastic and beyond our grasp than + apparitions from the other world. Prince Hamlet did not kill himself + because he was afraid of the visions that might haunt his dreams after + death. I like that famous soliloquy of his, but, to be candid, it never + touched my soul. I will confess to you as a friend that in moments of + depression I have sometimes pictured to myself the hour of my death. My + fancy invented thousands of the gloomiest visions, and I have succeeded in + working myself up to an agonizing exaltation, to a state of nightmare, and + I assure you that that did not seem to me more terrible than reality. What + I mean is, apparitions are terrible, but life is terrible, too. I don’t + understand life and I am afraid of it, my dear boy; I don’t know. Perhaps + I am a morbid person, unhinged. It seems to a sound, healthy man that he + understands everything he sees and hears, but that ‘seeming’ is lost to + me, and from day to day I am poisoning myself with terror. There is a + disease, the fear of open spaces, but my disease is the fear of life. When + I lie on the grass and watch a little beetle which was born yesterday and + understands nothing, it seems to me that its life consists of nothing else + but fear, and in it I see myself.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it exactly you are frightened of?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid of everything. I am not by nature a profound thinker, and I + take little interest in such questions as the life beyond the grave, the + destiny of humanity, and, in fact, I am rarely carried away to the + heights. What chiefly frightens me is the common routine of life from + which none of us can escape. I am incapable of distinguishing what is true + and what is false in my actions, and they worry me. I recognize that + education and the conditions of life have imprisoned me in a narrow circle + of falsity, that my whole life is nothing else than a daily effort to + deceive myself and other people, and to avoid noticing it; and I am + frightened at the thought that to the day of my death I shall not escape + from this falsity. To-day I do something and to-morrow I do not understand + why I did it. I entered the service in Petersburg and took fright; I came + here to work on the land, and here, too, I am frightened. . . . I see that + we know very little and so make mistakes every day. We are unjust, we + slander one another and spoil each other’s lives, we waste all our powers + on trash which we do not need and which hinders us from living; and that + frightens me, because I don’t understand why and for whom it is necessary. + I don’t understand men, my dear fellow, and I am afraid of them. It + frightens me to look at the peasants, and I don’t know for what higher + objects they are suffering and what they are living for. If life is an + enjoyment, then they are unnecessary, superfluous people; if the object + and meaning of life is to be found in poverty and unending, hopeless + ignorance, I can’t understand for whom and what this torture is necessary. + I understand no one and nothing. Kindly try to understand this specimen, + for instance,” said Dmitri Petrovitch, pointing to Forty Martyrs. “Think + of him!” + </p> + <p> + Noticing that we were looking at him, Forty Martyrs coughed deferentially + into his fist and said: + </p> + <p> + “I was always a faithful servant with good masters, but the great trouble + has been spirituous liquor. If a poor fellow like me were shown + consideration and given a place, I would kiss the ikon. My word’s my + bond.” + </p> + <p> + The sexton walked by, looked at us in amazement, and began pulling the + rope. The bell, abruptly breaking upon the stillness of the evening, + struck ten with a slow and prolonged note. + </p> + <p> + “It’s ten o’clock, though,” said Dmitri Petrovitch. “It’s time we were + going. Yes, my dear fellow,” he sighed, “if only you knew how afraid I am + of my ordinary everyday thoughts, in which one would have thought there + should be nothing dreadful. To prevent myself thinking I distract my mind + with work and try to tire myself out that I may sleep sound at night. + Children, a wife—all that seems ordinary with other people; but how + that weighs upon me, my dear fellow!” + </p> + <p> + He rubbed his face with his hands, cleared his throat, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “If I could only tell you how I have played the fool in my life!” he said. + “They all tell me that I have a sweet wife, charming children, and that I + am a good husband and father. They think I am very happy and envy me. But + since it has come to that, I will tell you in secret: my happy family life + is only a grievous misunderstanding, and I am afraid of it.” His pale face + was distorted by a wry smile. He put his arm round my waist and went on in + an undertone: + </p> + <p> + “You are my true friend; I believe in you and have a deep respect for you. + Heaven gave us friendship that we may open our hearts and escape from the + secrets that weigh upon us. Let me take advantage of your friendly feeling + for me and tell you the whole truth. My home life, which seems to you so + enchanting, is my chief misery and my chief terror. I got married in a + strange and stupid way. I must tell you that I was madly in love with + Masha before I married her, and was courting her for two years. I asked + her to marry me five times, and she refused me because she did not care + for me in the least. The sixth, when burning with passion I crawled on my + knees before her and implored her to take a beggar and marry me, she + consented. . . . What she said to me was: ‘I don’t love you, but I will be + true to you. . . .’ I accepted that condition with rapture. At the time I + understood what that meant, but I swear to God I don’t understand it now. + ‘I don’t love you, but I will be true to you.’ What does that mean? It’s a + fog, a darkness. I love her now as intensely as I did the day we were + married, while she, I believe, is as indifferent as ever, and I believe + she is glad when I go away from home. I don’t know for certain whether she + cares for me or not —I don’t know, I don’t know; but, as you see, we + live under the same roof, call each other ‘thou,’ sleep together, have + children, our property is in common. . . . What does it mean, what does it + mean? What is the object of it? And do you understand it at all, my dear + fellow? It’s cruel torture! Because I don’t understand our relations, I + hate, sometimes her, sometimes myself, sometimes both at once. Everything + is in a tangle in my brain; I torment myself and grow stupid. And as + though to spite me, she grows more beautiful every day, she is getting + more wonderful. . . I fancy her hair is marvellous, and her smile is like + no other woman’s. I love her, and I know that my love is hopeless. + Hopeless love for a woman by whom one has two children! Is that + intelligible? And isn’t it terrible? Isn’t it more terrible than ghosts?” + </p> + <p> + He was in the mood to have talked on a good deal longer, but luckily we + heard the coachman’s voice. Our horses had arrived. We got into the + carriage, and Forty Martyrs, taking off his cap, helped us both into the + carriage with an expression that suggested that he had long been waiting + for an opportunity to come in contact with our precious persons. + </p> + <p> + “Dmitri Petrovitch, let me come to you,” he said, blinking furiously and + tilting his head on one side. “Show divine mercy! I am dying of hunger!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Silin. “Come, you shall stay three days, and then we + shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” said Forty Martyrs, overjoyed. “I’ll come today, sir.” + </p> + <p> + It was a five miles’ drive home. Dmitri Petrovitch, glad that he had at + last opened his heart to his friend, kept his arm round my waist all the + way; and speaking now, not with bitterness and not with apprehension, but + quite cheerfully, told me that if everything had been satisfactory in his + home life, he should have returned to Petersburg and taken up scientific + work there. The movement which had driven so many gifted young men into + the country was, he said, a deplorable movement. We had plenty of rye and + wheat in Russia, but absolutely no cultured people. The strong and gifted + among the young ought to take up science, art, and politics; to act + otherwise meant being wasteful. He generalized with pleasure and expressed + regret that he would be parting from me early next morning, as he had to + go to a sale of timber. + </p> + <p> + And I felt awkward and depressed, and it seemed to me that I was deceiving + the man. And at the same time it was pleasant to me. I gazed at the + immense crimson moon which was rising, and pictured the tall, graceful, + fair woman, with her pale face, always well-dressed and fragrant with some + special scent, rather like musk, and for some reason it pleased me to + think she did not love her husband. + </p> + <p> + On reaching home, we sat down to supper. Marya Sergeyevna, laughing, + regaled us with our purchases, and I thought that she certainly had + wonderful hair and that her smile was unlike any other woman’s. I watched + her, and I wanted to detect in every look and movement that she did not + love her husband, and I fancied that I did see it. + </p> + <p> + Dmitri Petrovitch was soon struggling with sleep. After supper he sat with + us for ten minutes and said: + </p> + <p> + “Do as you please, my friends, but I have to be up at three o’clock + tomorrow morning. Excuse my leaving you.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed his wife tenderly, pressed my hand with warmth and gratitude, + and made me promise that I would certainly come the following week. That + he might not oversleep next morning, he went to spend the night in the + lodge. + </p> + <p> + Marya Sergeyevna always sat up late, in the Petersburg fashion, and for + some reason on this occasion I was glad of it. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” I began when we were left alone, “and now you’ll be kind and + play me something.” + </p> + <p> + I felt no desire for music, but I did not know how to begin the + conversation. She sat down to the piano and played, I don’t remember what. + I sat down beside her and looked at her plump white hands and tried to + read something on her cold, indifferent face. Then she smiled at something + and looked at me. + </p> + <p> + “You are dull without your friend,” she said. + </p> + <p> + I laughed. + </p> + <p> + “It would be enough for friendship to be here once a month, but I turn up + oftener than once a week.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, I got up and walked from one end of the room to the other. + She too got up and walked away to the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean to say by that?” she said, raising her large, clear eyes + and looking at me. + </p> + <p> + I made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “What you say is not true,” she went on, after a moment’s thought. “You + only come here on account of Dmitri Petrovitch. Well, I am very glad. One + does not often see such friendships nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” I thought, and, not knowing what to say, I asked: “Would you care + for a turn in the garden?” + </p> + <p> + I went out upon the verandah. Nervous shudders were running over my head + and I felt chilly with excitement. I was convinced now that our + conversation would be utterly trivial, and that there was nothing + particular we should be able to say to one another, but that, that night, + what I did not dare to dream of was bound to happen—that it was + bound to be that night or never. + </p> + <p> + “What lovely weather!” I said aloud. + </p> + <p> + “It makes absolutely no difference to me,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + I went into the drawing-room. Marya Sergeyevna was standing, as before, + near the fireplace, with her hands behind her back, looking away and + thinking of something. + </p> + <p> + “Why does it make no difference to you?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am bored. You are only bored without your friend, but I am + always bored. However . . . that is of no interest to you.” + </p> + <p> + I sat down to the piano and struck a few chords, waiting to hear what she + would say. + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t stand on ceremony,” she said, looking angrily at me, and she + seemed as though on the point of crying with vexation. “If you are sleepy, + go to bed. Because you are Dmitri Petrovitch’s friend, you are not in duty + bound to be bored with his wife’s company. I don’t want a sacrifice. + Please go.” + </p> + <p> + I did not, of course, go to bed. She went out on the verandah while I + remained in the drawing-room and spent five minutes turning over the + music. Then I went out, too. We stood close together in the shadow of the + curtains, and below us were the steps bathed in moonlight. The black + shadows of the trees stretched across the flower beds and the yellow sand + of the paths. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to go away tomorrow, too,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if my husband’s not at home you can’t stay here,” she said + sarcastically. “I can imagine how miserable you would be if you were in + love with me! Wait a bit: one day I shall throw myself on your neck. . . . + I shall see with what horror you will run away from me. That would be + interesting.” + </p> + <p> + Her words and her pale face were angry, but her eyes were full of tender + passionate love. I already looked upon this lovely creature as my + property, and then for the first time I noticed that she had golden + eyebrows, exquisite eyebrows. I had never seen such eyebrows before. The + thought that I might at once press her to my heart, caress her, touch her + wonderful hair, seemed to me such a miracle that I laughed and shut my + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It’s bed-time now. . . . A peaceful night,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want a peaceful night,” I said, laughing, following her into the + drawing-room. “I shall curse this night if it is a peaceful one.” + </p> + <p> + Pressing her hand, and escorting her to the door, I saw by her face that + she understood me, and was glad that I understood her, too. + </p> + <p> + I went to my room. Near the books on the table lay Dmitri Petrovitch’s + cap, and that reminded me of his affection for me. I took my stick and + went out into the garden. The mist had risen here, too, and the same tall, + narrow, ghostly shapes which I had seen earlier on the river were trailing + round the trees and bushes and wrapping about them. What a pity I could + not talk to them! + </p> + <p> + In the extraordinarily transparent air, each leaf, each drop of dew stood + out distinctly; it was all smiling at me in the stillness half asleep, and + as I passed the green seats I recalled the words in some play of + Shakespeare’s: “How sweetly falls the moonlight on yon seat!” + </p> + <p> + There was a mound in the garden; I went up it and sat down. I was + tormented by a delicious feeling. I knew for certain that in a moment I + should hold in my arms, should press to my heart her magnificent body, + should kiss her golden eyebrows; and I wanted to disbelieve it, to + tantalize myself, and was sorry that she had cost me so little trouble and + had yielded so soon. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly I heard heavy footsteps. A man of medium height appeared in + the avenue, and I recognized him at once as Forty Martyrs. He sat down on + the bench and heaved a deep sigh, then crossed himself three times and lay + down. A minute later he got up and lay on the other side. The gnats and + the dampness of the night prevented his sleeping. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, life!” he said. “Wretched, bitter life!” + </p> + <p> + Looking at his bent, wasted body and hearing his heavy, noisy sighs, I + thought of an unhappy, bitter life of which the confession had been made + to me that day, and I felt uneasy and frightened at my blissful mood. I + came down the knoll and went to the house. + </p> + <p> + “Life, as he thinks, is terrible,” I thought, “so don’t stand on ceremony + with it, bend it to your will, and until it crushes you, snatch all you + can wring from it.” + </p> + <p> + Marya Sergeyevna was standing on the verandah. I put my arms round her + without a word, and began greedily kissing her eyebrows, her temples, her + neck. . . . + </p> + <p> + In my room she told me she had loved me for a long time, more than a year. + She vowed eternal love, cried and begged me to take her away with me. I + repeatedly took her to the window to look at her face in the moonlight, + and she seemed to me a lovely dream, and I made haste to hold her tight to + convince myself of the truth of it. It was long since I had known such + raptures. . . . Yet somewhere far away at the bottom of my heart I felt an + awkwardness, and I was ill at ease. In her love for me there was something + incongruous and burdensome, just as in Dmitri Petrovitch’s friendship. It + was a great, serious passion with tears and vows, and I wanted nothing + serious in it—no tears, no vows, no talk of the future. Let that + moonlight night flash through our lives like a meteor and—<i>basta!</i> + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock she went out of my room, and, while I was standing in the + doorway, looking after her, at the end of the corridor Dmitri Petrovitch + suddenly made his appearance; she started and stood aside to let him pass, + and her whole figure was expressive of repulsion. He gave a strange smile, + coughed, and came into my room. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot my cap here yesterday,” he said without looking at me. + </p> + <p> + He found it and, holding it in both hands, put it on his head; then he + looked at my confused face, at my slippers, and said in a strange, husky + voice unlike his own: + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it must be my fate that I should understand nothing. . . . If + you understand anything, I congratulate you. It’s all darkness before my + eyes.” + </p> + <p> + And he went out, clearing his throat. Afterwards from the window I saw him + by the stable, harnessing the horses with his own hands. His hands were + trembling, he was in nervous haste and kept looking round at the house; + probably he was feeling terror. Then he got into the gig, and, with a + strange expression as though afraid of being pursued, lashed the horses. + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterwards I set off, too. The sun was already rising, and the + mist of the previous day clung timidly to the bushes and the hillocks. On + the box of the carriage was sitting Forty Martyrs; he had already + succeeded in getting drunk and was muttering tipsy nonsense. + </p> + <p> + “I am a free man,” he shouted to the horses. “Ah, my honeys, I am a + nobleman in my own right, if you care to know!” + </p> + <p> + The terror of Dmitri Petrovitch, the thought of whom I could not get out + of my head, infected me. I thought of what had happened and could make + nothing of it. I looked at the rooks, and it seemed so strange and + terrible that they were flying. + </p> + <p> + “Why have I done this?” I kept asking myself in bewilderment and despair. + “Why has it turned out like this and not differently? To whom and for what + was it necessary that she should love me in earnest, and that he should + come into my room to fetch his cap? What had a cap to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + I set off for Petersburg that day, and I have not seen Dmitri Petrovitch + nor his wife since. I am told that they are still living together. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A WOMAN’S KINGDOM + </h2> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>hristmas Eve + </p> + <p> + HERE was a thick roll of notes. It came from the bailiff at the forest + villa; he wrote that he was sending fifteen hundred roubles, which he had + been awarded as damages, having won an appeal. Anna Akimovna disliked and + feared such words as “awarded damages” and “won the suit.” She knew that + it was impossible to do without the law, but for some reason, whenever + Nazaritch, the manager of the factory, or the bailiff of her villa in the + country, both of whom frequently went to law, used to win lawsuits of some + sort for her benefit, she always felt uneasy and, as it were, ashamed. On + this occasion, too, she felt uneasy and awkward, and wanted to put that + fifteen hundred roubles further away that it might be out of her sight. + </p> + <p> + She thought with vexation that other girls of her age—she was in her + twenty-sixth year—were now busy looking after their households, were + weary and would sleep sound, and would wake up tomorrow morning in holiday + mood; many of them had long been married and had children. Only she, for + some reason, was compelled to sit like an old woman over these letters, to + make notes upon them, to write answers, then to do nothing the whole + evening till midnight, but wait till she was sleepy; and tomorrow they + would all day long be coming with Christmas greetings and asking for + favours; and the day after tomorrow there would certainly be some scandal + at the factory—some one would be beaten or would die of drinking too + much vodka, and she would be fretted by pangs of conscience; and after the + holidays Nazaritch would turn off some twenty of the workpeople for + absence from work, and all of the twenty would hang about at the front + door, without their caps on, and she would be ashamed to go out to them, + and they would be driven away like dogs. And all her acquaintances would + say behind her back, and write to her in anonymous letters, that she was a + millionaire and exploiter —that she was devouring other men’s lives + and sucking the blood of the workers. + </p> + <p> + Here there lay a heap of letters read through and laid aside already. They + were all begging letters. They were from people who were hungry, drunken, + dragged down by large families, sick, degraded, despised . . . . Anna + Akimovna had already noted on each letter, three roubles to be paid to + one, five to another; these letters would go the same day to the office, + and next the distribution of assistance would take place, or, as the + clerks used to say, the beasts would be fed. + </p> + <p> + They would distribute also in small sums four hundred and seventy roubles—the + interest on a sum bequeathed by the late Akim Ivanovitch for the relief of + the poor and needy. There would be a hideous crush. From the gates to the + doors of the office there would stretch a long file of strange people with + brutal faces, in rags, numb with cold, hungry and already drunk, in husky + voices calling down blessings upon Anna Akimovna, their benefactress, and + her parents: those at the back would press upon those in front, and those + in front would abuse them with bad language. The clerk would get tired of + the noise, the swearing, and the sing-song whining and blessing; would fly + out and give some one a box on the ear to the delight of all. And her own + people, the factory hands, who received nothing at Christmas but their + wages, and had already spent every farthing of it, would stand in the + middle of the yard, looking on and laughing—some enviously, others + ironically. + </p> + <p> + “Merchants, and still more their wives, are fonder of beggars than they + are of their own workpeople,” thought Anna Akimovna. “It’s always so.” + </p> + <p> + Her eye fell upon the roll of money. It would be nice to distribute that + hateful, useless money among the workpeople tomorrow, but it did not do to + give the workpeople anything for nothing, or they would demand it again + next time. And what would be the good of fifteen hundred roubles when + there were eighteen hundred workmen in the factory besides their wives and + children? Or she might, perhaps, pick out one of the writers of those + begging letters— some luckless man who had long ago lost all hope of + anything better, and give him the fifteen hundred. The money would come + upon the poor creature like a thunder-clap, and perhaps for the first time + in his life he would feel happy. This idea struck Anna Akimovna as + original and amusing, and it fascinated her. She took one letter at random + out of the pile and read it. Some petty official called Tchalikov had long + been out of a situation, was ill, and living in Gushtchin’s Buildings; his + wife was in consumption, and he had five little girls. Anna Akimovna knew + well the four-storeyed house, Gushtchin’s Buildings, in which Tchalikov + lived. Oh, it was a horrid, foul, unhealthy house! + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will give it to that Tchalikov,” she decided. “I won’t send it; I + had better take it myself to prevent unnecessary talk. Yes,” she + reflected, as she put the fifteen hundred roubles in her pocket, “and I’ll + have a look at them, and perhaps I can do something for the little girls.” + </p> + <p> + She felt light-hearted; she rang the bell and ordered the horses to be + brought round. + </p> + <p> + When she got into the sledge it was past six o’clock in the evening. The + windows in all the blocks of buildings were brightly lighted up, and that + made the huge courtyard seem very dark: at the gates, and at the far end + of the yard near the warehouses and the workpeople’s barracks, electric + lamps were gleaming. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna disliked and feared those huge dark buildings, warehouses, + and barracks where the workmen lived. She had only once been in the main + building since her father’s death. The high ceilings with iron girders; + the multitude of huge, rapidly turning wheels, connecting straps and + levers; the shrill hissing; the clank of steel; the rattle of the + trolleys; the harsh puffing of steam; the faces—pale, crimson, or + black with coal-dust; the shirts soaked with sweat; the gleam of steel, of + copper, and of fire; the smell of oil and coal; and the draught, at times + very hot and at times very cold—gave her an impression of hell. It + seemed to her as though the wheels, the levers, and the hot hissing + cylinders were trying to tear themselves away from their fastenings to + crush the men, while the men, not hearing one another, ran about with + anxious faces, and busied themselves about the machines, trying to stop + their terrible movement. They showed Anna Akimovna something and + respectfully explained it to her. She remembered how in the forge a piece + of red-hot iron was pulled out of the furnace; and how an old man with a + strap round his head, and another, a young man in a blue shirt with a + chain on his breast, and an angry face, probably one of the foremen, + struck the piece of iron with hammers; and how the golden sparks had been + scattered in all directions; and how, a little afterwards, they had + dragged out a huge piece of sheet-iron with a clang. The old man had stood + erect and smiled, while the young man had wiped his face with his sleeve + and explained something to her. And she remembered, too, how in another + department an old man with one eye had been filing a piece of iron, and + how the iron filings were scattered about; and how a red-haired man in + black spectacles, with holes in his shirt, had been working at a lathe, + making something out of a piece of steel: the lathe roared and hissed and + squeaked, and Anna Akimovna felt sick at the sound, and it seemed as + though they were boring into her ears. She looked, listened, did not + understand, smiled graciously, and felt ashamed. To get hundreds of + thousands of roubles from a business which one does not understand and + cannot like—how strange it is! + </p> + <p> + And she had not once been in the workpeople’s barracks. There, she was + told, it was damp; there were bugs, debauchery, anarchy. It was an + astonishing thing: a thousand roubles were spent annually on keeping the + barracks in good order, yet, if she were to believe the anonymous letters, + the condition of the workpeople was growing worse and worse every year. + </p> + <p> + “There was more order in my father’s day,” thought Anna Akimovna, as she + drove out of the yard, “because he had been a workman himself. I know + nothing about it and only do silly things.” + </p> + <p> + She felt depressed again, and was no longer glad that she had come, and + the thought of the lucky man upon whom fifteen hundred roubles would drop + from heaven no longer struck her as original and amusing. To go to some + Tchalikov or other, when at home a business worth a million was gradually + going to pieces and being ruined, and the workpeople in the barracks were + living worse than convicts, meant doing something silly and cheating her + conscience. Along the highroad and across the fields near it, workpeople + from the neighbouring cotton and paper factories were walking towards the + lights of the town. There was the sound of talk and laughter in the frosty + air. Anna Akimovna looked at the women and young people, and she suddenly + felt a longing for a plain rough life among a crowd. She recalled vividly + that far-away time when she used to be called Anyutka, when she was a + little girl and used to lie under the same quilt with her mother, while a + washerwoman who lodged with them used to wash clothes in the next room; + while through the thin walls there came from the neighbouring flats sounds + of laughter, swearing, children’s crying, the accordion, and the whirr of + carpenters’ lathes and sewing-machines; while her father, Akim Ivanovitch, + who was clever at almost every craft, would be soldering something near + the stove, or drawing or planing, taking no notice whatever of the noise + and stuffiness. And she longed to wash, to iron, to run to the shop and + the tavern as she used to do every day when she lived with her mother. She + ought to have been a work-girl and not the factory owner! Her big house + with its chandeliers and pictures; her footman Mishenka, with his glossy + moustache and swallowtail coat; the devout and dignified Varvarushka, and + smooth-tongued Agafyushka; and the young people of both sexes who came + almost every day to ask her for money, and with whom she always for some + reason felt guilty; and the clerks, the doctors, and the ladies who were + charitable at her expense, who flattered her and secretly despised her for + her humble origin— how wearisome and alien it all was to her! + </p> + <p> + Here was the railway crossing and the city gate; then came houses + alternating with kitchen gardens; and at last the broad street where stood + the renowned Gushtchin’s Buildings. The street, usually quiet, was now on + Christmas Eve full of life and movement. The eating-houses and beer-shops + were noisy. If some one who did not belong to that quarter but lived in + the centre of the town had driven through the street now, he would have + noticed nothing but dirty, drunken, and abusive people; but Anna Akimovna, + who had lived in those parts all her life, was constantly recognizing in + the crowd her own father or mother or uncle. Her father was a soft fluid + character, a little fantastical, frivolous, and irresponsible. He did not + care for money, respectability, or power; he used to say that a working + man had no time to keep the holy-days and go to church; and if it had not + been for his wife, he would probably never have gone to confession, taken + the sacrament or kept the fasts. While her uncle, Ivan Ivanovitch, on the + contrary, was like flint; in everything relating to religion, politics, + and morality, he was harsh and relentless, and kept a strict watch, not + only over himself, but also over all his servants and acquaintances. God + forbid that one should go into his room without crossing oneself before + the ikon! The luxurious mansion in which Anna Akimovna now lived he had + always kept locked up, and only opened it on great holidays for important + visitors, while he lived himself in the office, in a little room covered + with ikons. He had leanings towards the Old Believers, and was continually + entertaining priests and bishops of the old ritual, though he had been + christened, and married, and had buried his wife in accordance with the + Orthodox rites. He disliked Akim, his only brother and his heir, for his + frivolity, which he called simpleness and folly, and for his indifference + to religion. He treated him as an inferior, kept him in the position of a + workman, paid him sixteen roubles a month. Akim addressed his brother with + formal respect, and on the days of asking forgiveness, he and his wife and + daughter bowed down to the ground before him. But three years before his + death Ivan Ivanovitch had drawn closer to his brother, forgave his + shortcomings, and ordered him to get a governess for Anyutka. + </p> + <p> + There was a dark, deep, evil-smelling archway under Gushtchin’s Buildings; + there was a sound of men coughing near the walls. Leaving the sledge in + the street, Anna Akimovna went in at the gate and there inquired how to + get to No. 46 to see a clerk called Tchalikov. She was directed to the + furthest door on the right in the third story. And in the courtyard and + near the outer door, and even on the stairs, there was still the same + loathsome smell as under the archway. In Anna Akimovna’s childhood, when + her father was a simple workman, she used to live in a building like that, + and afterwards, when their circumstances were different, she had often + visited them in the character of a Lady Bountiful. The narrow stone + staircase with its steep dirty steps, with landings at every story; the + greasy swinging lanterns; the stench; the troughs, pots, and rags on the + landings near the doors,—all this had been familiar to her long ago. + . . . One door was open, and within could be seen Jewish tailors in caps, + sewing. Anna Akimovna met people on the stairs, but it never entered her + head that people might be rude to her. She was no more afraid of peasants + or workpeople, drunk or sober, than of her acquaintances of the educated + class. + </p> + <p> + There was no entry at No. 46; the door opened straight into the kitchen. + As a rule the dwellings of workmen and mechanics smell of varnish, tar, + hides, smoke, according to the occupation of the tenant; the dwellings of + persons of noble or official class who have come to poverty may be known + by a peculiar rancid, sour smell. This disgusting smell enveloped Anna + Akimovna on all sides, and as yet she was only on the threshold. A man in + a black coat, no doubt Tchalikov himself, was sitting in a corner at the + table with his back to the door, and with him were five little girls. The + eldest, a broad-faced thin girl with a comb in her hair, looked about + fifteen, while the youngest, a chubby child with hair that stood up like a + hedge-hog, was not more than three. All the six were eating. Near the + stove stood a very thin little woman with a yellow face, far gone in + pregnancy. She was wearing a skirt and a white blouse, and had an oven + fork in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect you to be so disobedient, Liza,” the man was saying + reproachfully. “Fie, fie, for shame! Do you want papa to whip you—eh?” + </p> + <p> + Seeing an unknown lady in the doorway, the thin woman started, and put + down the fork. + </p> + <p> + “Vassily Nikititch!” she cried, after a pause, in a hollow voice, as + though she could not believe her eyes. + </p> + <p> + The man looked round and jumped up. He was a flat-chested, bony man with + narrow shoulders and sunken temples. His eyes were small and hollow with + dark rings round them, he had a wide mouth, and a long nose like a bird’s + beak—a little bit bent to the right. His beard was parted in the + middle, his moustache was shaven, and this made him look more like a hired + footman than a government clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Does Mr. Tchalikov live here?” asked Anna Akimovna. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam,” Tchalikov answered severely, but immediately recognizing + Anna Akimovna, he cried: “Anna Akimovna!” and all at once he gasped and + clasped his hands as though in terrible alarm. “Benefactress!” + </p> + <p> + With a moan he ran to her, grunting inarticulately as though he were + paralyzed—there was cabbage on his beard and he smelt of vodka—pressed + his forehead to her muff, and seemed as though he were in a swoon. + </p> + <p> + “Your hand, your holy hand!” he brought out breathlessly. “It’s a dream, a + glorious dream! Children, awaken me!” + </p> + <p> + He turned towards the table and said in a sobbing voice, shaking his + fists: + </p> + <p> + “Providence has heard us! Our saviour, our angel, has come! We are saved! + Children, down on your knees! on your knees!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Tchalikov and the little girls, except the youngest one, began for + some reason rapidly clearing the table. + </p> + <p> + “You wrote that your wife was very ill,” said Anna Akimovna, and she felt + ashamed and annoyed. “I am not going to give them the fifteen hundred,” + she thought. + </p> + <p> + “Here she is, my wife,” said Tchalikov in a thin feminine voice, as though + his tears had gone to his head. “Here she is, unhappy creature! With one + foot in the grave! But we do not complain, madam. Better death than such a + life. Better die, unhappy woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Why is he playing these antics?” thought Anna Akimovna with annoyance. + “One can see at once he is used to dealing with merchants.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak to me like a human being,” she said. “I don’t care for farces.‘’ + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam; five bereaved children round their mother’s coffin with + funeral candles—that’s a farce? Eh?” said Tchalikov bitterly, and + turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue,” whispered his wife, and she pulled at his sleeve. “The + place has not been tidied up, madam,” she said, addressing Anna Akimovna; + “please excuse it . . . you know what it is where there are children. A + crowded hearth, but harmony.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to give them the fifteen hundred,” Anna Akimovna thought + again. + </p> + <p> + And to escape as soon as possible from these people and from the sour + smell, she brought out her purse and made up her mind to leave them + twenty-five roubles, not more; but she suddenly felt ashamed that she had + come so far and disturbed people for so little. + </p> + <p> + “If you give me paper and ink, I will write at once to a doctor who is a + friend of mine to come and see you,” she said, flushing red. “He is a very + good doctor. And I will leave you some money for medicine.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Tchalikov was hastening to wipe the table. + </p> + <p> + “It’s messy here! What are you doing?” hissed Tchalikov, looking at her + wrathfully. “Take her to the lodger’s room! I make bold to ask you, madam, + to step into the lodger’s room,” he said, addressing Anna Akimovna. “It’s + clean there.” + </p> + <p> + “Osip Ilyitch told us not to go into his room!” said one of the little + girls, sternly. + </p> + <p> + But they had already led Anna Akimovna out of the kitchen, through a + narrow passage room between two bedsteads: it was evident from the + arrangement of the beds that in one two slept lengthwise, and in the other + three slept across the bed. In the lodger’s room, that came next, it + really was clean. A neat-looking bed with a red woollen quilt, a pillow in + a white pillow-case, even a slipper for the watch, a table covered with a + hempen cloth and on it, an inkstand of milky-looking glass, pens, paper, + photographs in frames— everything as it ought to be; and another + table for rough work, on which lay tidily arranged a watchmaker’s tools + and watches taken to pieces. On the walls hung hammers, pliers, awls, + chisels, nippers, and so on, and there were three hanging clocks which + were ticking; one was a big clock with thick weights, such as one sees in + eating-houses. + </p> + <p> + As she sat down to write the letter, Anna Akimovna saw facing her on the + table the photographs of her father and of herself. That surprised her. + </p> + <p> + “Who lives here with you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Our lodger, madam, Pimenov. He works in your factory.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I thought he must be a watchmaker.” + </p> + <p> + “He repairs watches privately, in his leisure hours. He is an amateur.” + </p> + <p> + After a brief silence during which nothing could be heard but the ticking + of the clocks and the scratching of the pen on the paper, Tchalikov heaved + a sigh and said ironically, with indignation: + </p> + <p> + “It’s a true saying: gentle birth and a grade in the service won’t put a + coat on your back. A cockade in your cap and a noble title, but nothing to + eat. To my thinking, if any one of humble class helps the poor he is much + more of a gentleman than any Tchalikov who has sunk into poverty and + vice.” + </p> + <p> + To flatter Anna Akimovna, he uttered a few more disparaging phrases about + his gentle birth, and it was evident that he was humbling himself because + he considered himself superior to her. Meanwhile she had finished her + letter and had sealed it up. The letter would be thrown away and the money + would not be spent on medicine—that she knew, but she put + twenty-five roubles on the table all the same, and after a moment’s + thought, added two more red notes. She saw the wasted, yellow hand of + Madame Tchalikov, like the claw of a hen, dart out and clutch the money + tight. + </p> + <p> + “You have graciously given this for medicine,” said Tchalikov in a + quivering voice, “but hold out a helping hand to me also . . . and the + children!” he added with a sob. “My unhappy children! I am not afraid for + myself; it is for my daughters I fear! It’s the hydra of vice that I + fear!” + </p> + <p> + Trying to open her purse, the catch of which had gone wrong, Anna Akimovna + was confused and turned red. She felt ashamed that people should be + standing before her, looking at her hands and waiting, and most likely at + the bottom of their hearts laughing at her. At that instant some one came + into the kitchen and stamped his feet, knocking the snow off. + </p> + <p> + “The lodger has come in,” said Madame Tchalikov. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna grew even more confused. She did not want any one from the + factory to find her in this ridiculous position. As ill-luck would have + it, the lodger came in at the very moment when, having broken the catch at + last, she was giving Tchalikov some notes, and Tchalikov, grunting as + though he were paraylzed, was feeling about with his lips where he could + kiss her. In the lodger she recognized the workman who had once clanked + the sheet-iron before her in the forge, and had explained things to her. + Evidently he had come in straight from the factory; his face looked dark + and grimy, and on one cheek near his nose was a smudge of soot. His hands + were perfectly black, and his unbelted shirt shone with oil and grease. He + was a man of thirty, of medium height, with black hair and broad + shoulders, and a look of great physical strength. At the first glance Anna + Akimovna perceived that he must be a foreman, who must be receiving at + least thirty-five roubles a month, and a stern, loud-voiced man who struck + the workmen in the face; all this was evident from his manner of standing, + from the attitude he involuntarily assumed at once on seeing a lady in his + room, and most of all from the fact that he did not wear top-boots, that + he had breast pockets, and a pointed, picturesquely clipped beard. Her + father, Akim Ivanovitch, had been the brother of the factory owner, and + yet he had been afraid of foremen like this lodger and had tried to win + their favour. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me for having come in here in your absence,” said Anna Akimovna. + </p> + <p> + The workman looked at her in surprise, smiled in confusion and did not + speak. + </p> + <p> + “You must speak a little louder, madam . . . .” said Tchalikov softly. + “When Mr. Pimenov comes home from the factory in the evenings he is a + little hard of hearing.” + </p> + <p> + But Anna Akimovna was by now relieved that there was nothing more for her + to do here; she nodded to them and went rapidly out of the room. Pimenov + went to see her out. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been long in our employment?” she asked in a loud voice, without + turning to him. + </p> + <p> + “From nine years old. I entered the factory in your uncle’s time.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a long while! My uncle and my father knew all the workpeople, and + I know hardly any of them. I had seen you before, but I did not know your + name was Pimenov.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna felt a desire to justify herself before him, to pretend that + she had just given the money not seriously, but as a joke. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this poverty,” she sighed. “We give charity on holidays and working + days, and still there is no sense in it. I believe it is useless to help + such people as this Tchalikov.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is useless,” he agreed. “However much you give him, he will + drink it all away. And now the husband and wife will be snatching it from + one another and fighting all night,” he added with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one must admit that our philanthropy is useless, boring, and absurd. + But still, you must agree, one can’t sit with one’s hand in one’s lap; one + must do something. What’s to be done with the Tchalikovs, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + She turned to Pimenov and stopped, expecting an answer from him; he, too, + stopped and slowly, without speaking, shrugged his shoulders. Obviously he + knew what to do with the Tchalikovs, but the treatment would have been so + coarse and inhuman that he did not venture to put it into words. And the + Tchalikovs were to him so utterly uninteresting and worthless, that a + moment later he had forgotten them; looking into Anna Akimovna’s eyes, he + smiled with pleasure, and his face wore an expression as though he were + dreaming about something very pleasant. Only, now standing close to him, + Anna Akimovna saw from his face, and especially from his eyes, how + exhausted and sleepy he was. + </p> + <p> + “Here, I ought to give him the fifteen hundred roubles!” she thought, but + for some reason this idea seemed to her incongruous and insulting to + Pimenov. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you are aching all over after your work, and you come to the + door with me,” she said as they went down the stairs. “Go home.” + </p> + <p> + But he did not catch her words. When they came out into the street, he ran + on ahead, unfastened the cover of the sledge, and helping Anna Akimovna + in, said: + </p> + <p> + “I wish you a happy Christmas!” + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>hristmas Morning + </p> + <p> + “They have left off ringing ever so long! It’s dreadful; you won’t be + there before the service is over! Get up!” + </p> + <p> + “Two horses are racing, racing . . .” said Anna Akimovna, and she woke up; + before her, candle in hand, stood her maid, red-haired Masha. “Well, what + is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Service is over already,” said Masha with despair. “I have called you + three times! Sleep till evening for me, but you told me yourself to call + you!” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna raised herself on her elbow and glanced towards the window. + It was still quite dark outside, and only the lower edge of the + window-frame was white with snow. She could hear a low, mellow chime of + bells; it was not the parish church, but somewhere further away. The watch + on the little table showed three minutes past six. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Masha. . . . In three minutes . . .” said Anna Akimovna in an + imploring voice, and she snuggled under the bed-clothes. + </p> + <p> + She imagined the snow at the front door, the sledge, the dark sky, the + crowd in the church, and the smell of juniper, and she felt dread at the + thought; but all the same, she made up her mind that she would get up at + once and go to early service. And while she was warm in bed and struggling + with sleep—which seems, as though to spite one, particularly sweet + when one ought to get up—and while she had visions of an immense + garden on a mountain and then Gushtchin’s Buildings, she was worried all + the time by the thought that she ought to get up that very minute and go + to church. + </p> + <p> + But when she got up it was quite light, and it turned out to be half-past + nine. There had been a heavy fall of snow in the night; the trees were + clothed in white, and the air was particularly light, transparent, and + tender, so that when Anna Akimovna looked out of the window her first + impulse was to draw a deep, deep breath. And when she had washed, a relic + of far-away childish feelings—joy that today was Christmas—suddenly + stirred within her; after that she felt light-hearted, free and pure in + soul, as though her soul, too, had been washed or plunged in the white + snow. Masha came in, dressed up and tightly laced, and wished her a happy + Christmas; then she spent a long time combing her mistress’s hair and + helping her to dress. The fragrance and feeling of the new, gorgeous, + splendid dress, its faint rustle, and the smell of fresh scent, excited + Anna Akimoyna. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s Christmas,” she said gaily to Masha. “Now we will try our + fortunes.” + </p> + <p> + “Last year, I was to marry an old man. It turned up three times the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, God is merciful.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Anna Akimovna, what I think is, rather than neither one thing nor + the other, I’d marry an old man,” said Masha mournfully, and she heaved a + sigh. “I am turned twenty; it’s no joke.” + </p> + <p> + Every one in the house knew that red-haired Masha was in love with + Mishenka, the footman, and this genuine, passionate, hopeless love had + already lasted three years. + </p> + <p> + “Come, don’t talk nonsense,” Anna Akimovna consoled her. “I am going on + for thirty, but I am still meaning to marry a young man.” + </p> + <p> + While his mistress was dressing, Mishenka, in a new swallow-tail and + polished boots, walked about the hall and drawing-room and waited for her + to come out, to wish her a happy Christmas. He had a peculiar walk, + stepping softly and delicately; looking at his feet, his hands, and the + bend of his head, it might be imagined that he was not simply walking, but + learning to dance the first figure of a quadrille. In spite of his fine + velvety moustache and handsome, rather flashy appearance, he was steady, + prudent, and devout as an old man. He said his prayers, bowing down to the + ground, and liked burning incense in his room. He respected people of + wealth and rank and had a reverence for them; he despised poor people, and + all who came to ask favours of any kind, with all the strength of his + cleanly flunkey soul. Under his starched shirt he wore a flannel, winter + and summer alike, being very careful of his health; his ears were plugged + with cotton-wool. + </p> + <p> + When Anna Akimovna crossed the hall with Masha, he bent his head downwards + a little and said in his agreeable, honeyed voice: + </p> + <p> + “I have the honour to congratulate you, Anna Akimovna, on the most solemn + feast of the birth of our Lord.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna gave him five roubles, while poor Masha was numb with + ecstasy. His holiday get-up, his attitude, his voice, and what he said, + impressed her by their beauty and elegance; as she followed her mistress + she could think of nothing, could see nothing, she could only smile, first + blissfully and then bitterly. The upper story of the house was called the + best or visitors’ half, while the name of the business part—old + people’s or simply women’s part —was given to the rooms on the lower + story where Aunt Tatyana Ivanovna kept house. In the upper part the gentry + and educated visitors were entertained; in the lower story, simpler folk + and the aunt’s personal friends. Handsome, plump, and healthy, still young + and fresh, and feeling she had on a magnificent dress which seemed to her + to diffuse a sort of radiance all about her, Anna Akimovna went down to + the lower story. Here she was met with reproaches for forgetting God now + that she was so highly educated, for sleeping too late for the service, + and for not coming downstairs to break the fast, and they all clasped + their hands and exclaimed with perfect sincerity that she was lovely, + wonderful; and she believed it, laughed, kissed them, gave one a rouble, + another three or five according to their position. She liked being + downstairs. Wherever one looked there were shrines, ikons, little lamps, + portraits of ecclesiastical personages—the place smelt of monks; + there was a rattle of knives in the kitchen, and already a smell of + something savoury, exceedingly appetizing, was pervading all the rooms. + The yellow-painted floors shone, and from the doors narrow rugs with + bright blue stripes ran like little paths to the ikon corner, and the + sunshine was simply pouring in at the windows. + </p> + <p> + In the dining-room some old women, strangers, were sitting; in + Varvarushka’s room, too, there were old women, and with them a deaf and + dumb girl, who seemed abashed about something and kept saying, “Bli, bli! + . . .” Two skinny-looking little girls who had been brought out of the + orphanage for Christmas came up to kiss Anna Akimovna’s hand, and stood + before her transfixed with admiration of her splendid dress; she noticed + that one of the girls squinted, and in the midst of her light-hearted + holiday mood she felt a sick pang at her heart at the thought that young + men would despise the girl, and that she would never marry. In the cook + Agafya’s room, five huge peasants in new shirts were sitting round the + samovar; these were not workmen from the factory, but relations of the + cook. Seeing Anna Akimovna, all the peasants jumped up from their seats, + and from regard for decorum, ceased munching, though their mouths were + full. The cook Stepan, in a white cap, with a knife in his hand, came into + the room and gave her his greetings; porters in high felt boots came in, + and they, too, offered their greetings. The water-carrier peeped in with + icicles on his beard, but did not venture to come in. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna walked through the rooms followed by her retinue— the + aunt, Varvarushka, Nikandrovna, the sewing-maid Marfa Petrovna, and the + downstairs Masha. Varvarushka—a tall, thin, slender woman, taller + than any one in the house, dressed all in black, smelling of cypress and + coffee—crossed herself in each room before the ikon, bowing down + from the waist. And whenever one looked at her one was reminded that she + had already prepared her shroud and that lottery tickets were hidden away + by her in the same box. + </p> + <p> + “Anyutinka, be merciful at Christmas,” she said, opening the door into the + kitchen. “Forgive him, bless the man! Have done with it!” + </p> + <p> + The coachman Panteley, who had been dismissed for drunkenness in November, + was on his knees in the middle of the kitchen. He was a good-natured man, + but he used to be unruly when he was drunk, and could not go to sleep, but + persisted in wandering about the buildings and shouting in a threatening + voice, “I know all about it!” Now from his beefy and bloated face and from + his bloodshot eyes it could be seen that he had been drinking continually + from November till Christmas. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Anna Akimovna,” he brought out in a hoarse voice, striking + his forehead on the floor and showing his bull-like neck. + </p> + <p> + “It was Auntie dismissed you; ask her.” + </p> + <p> + “What about auntie?” said her aunt, walking into the kitchen, breathing + heavily; she was very stout, and on her bosom one might have stood a tray + of teacups and a samovar. “What about auntie now? You are mistress here, + give your own orders; though these rascals might be all dead for all I + care. Come, get up, you hog!” she shouted at Panteley, losing patience. + “Get out of my sight! It’s the last time I forgive you, but if you + transgress again—don’t ask for mercy!” + </p> + <p> + Then they went into the dining-room to coffee. But they had hardly sat + down, when the downstairs Masha rushed headlong in, saying with horror, + “The singers!” And ran back again. They heard some one blowing his nose, a + low bass cough, and footsteps that sounded like horses’ iron-shod hoofs + tramping about the entry near the hall. For half a minute all was hushed. + . . . The singers burst out so suddenly and loudly that every one started. + While they were singing, the priest from the almshouses with the deacon + and the sexton arrived. Putting on the stole, the priest slowly said that + when they were ringing for matins it was snowing and not cold, but that + the frost was sharper towards morning, God bless it! and now there must be + twenty degrees of frost. + </p> + <p> + “Many people maintain, though, that winter is healthier than summer,” said + the deacon; then immediately assumed an austere expression and chanted + after the priest. “Thy Birth, O Christ our Lord. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Soon the priest from the workmen’s hospital came with the deacon, then the + Sisters from the hospital, children from the orphanage, and then singing + could be heard almost uninterruptedly. They sang, had lunch, and went + away. + </p> + <p> + About twenty men from the factory came to offer their Christmas greetings. + They were only the foremen, mechanicians, and their assistants, the + pattern-makers, the accountant, and so on—all of good appearance, in + new black coats. They were all first-rate men, as it were picked men; each + one knew his value—that is, knew that if he lost his berth today, + people would be glad to take him on at another factory. Evidently they + liked Auntie, as they behaved freely in her presence and even smoked, and + when they had all trooped in to have something to eat, the accountant put + his arm round her immense waist. They were free-and-easy, perhaps, partly + also because Varvarushka, who under the old masters had wielded great + power and had kept watch over the morals of the clerks, had now no + authority whatever in the house; and perhaps because many of them still + remembered the time when Auntie Tatyana Ivanovna, whose brothers kept a + strict hand over her, had been dressed like a simple peasant woman like + Agafya, and when Anna Akimovna used to run about the yard near the factory + buildings and every one used to call her Anyutya. + </p> + <p> + The foremen ate, talked, and kept looking with amazement at Anna Akimovna, + how she had grown up and how handsome she had become! But this elegant + girl, educated by governesses and teachers, was a stranger to them; they + could not understand her, and they instinctively kept closer to “Auntie,” + who called them by their names, continually pressed them to eat and drink, + and, clinking glasses with them, had already drunk two wineglasses of + rowanberry wine with them. Anna Akimovna was always afraid of their + thinking her proud, an upstart, or a crow in peacock’s feathers; and now + while the foremen were crowding round the food, she did not leave the + dining-room, but took part in the conversation. She asked Pimenov, her + acquaintance of the previous day: + </p> + <p> + “Why have you so many clocks in your room?” + </p> + <p> + “I mend clocks,” he answered. “I take the work up between times, on + holidays, or when I can’t sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “So if my watch goes wrong I can bring it to you to be repaired?” Anna + Akimovna asked, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, I will do it with pleasure,” said Pimenov, and there was an + expression of tender devotion in his face, when, not herself knowing why, + she unfastened her magnificent watch from its chain and handed it to him; + he looked at it in silence and gave it back. “To be sure, I will do it + with pleasure,” he repeated. “I don’t mend watches now. My eyes are weak, + and the doctors have forbidden me to do fine work. But for you I can make + an exception.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctors talk nonsense,” said the accountant. They all laughed. “Don’t you + believe them,” he went on, flattered by the laughing; “last year a tooth + flew out of a cylinder and hit old Kalmykov such a crack on the head that + you could see his brains, and the doctor said he would die; but he is + alive and working to this day, only he has taken to stammering since that + mishap.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctors do talk nonsense, they do, but not so much,” sighed Auntie. + “Pyotr Andreyitch, poor dear, lost his sight. Just like you, he used to + work day in day out at the factory near the hot furnace, and he went + blind. The eyes don’t like heat. But what are we talking about?” she said, + rousing herself. “Come and have a drink. My best wishes for Christmas, my + dears. I never drink with any one else, but I drink with you, sinful woman + as I am. Please God!” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna fancied that after yesterday Pimenov despised her as a + philanthropist, but was fascinated by her as a woman. She looked at him + and thought that he behaved very charmingly and was nicely dressed. It is + true that the sleeves of his coat were not quite long enough, and the coat + itself seemed short-waisted, and his trousers were not wide and + fashionable, but his tie was tied carelessly and with taste and was not as + gaudy as the others’. And he seemed to be a good-natured man, for he ate + submissively whatever Auntie put on his plate. She remembered how black he + had been the day before, and how sleepy, and the thought of it for some + reason touched her. + </p> + <p> + When the men were preparing to go, Anna Akimovna put out her hand to + Pimenov. She wanted to ask him to come in sometimes to see her, without + ceremony, but she did not know how to—her tongue would not obey her; + and that they might not think she was attracted by Pimenov, she shook + hands with his companions, too. + </p> + <p> + Then the boys from the school of which she was a patroness came. They all + had their heads closely cropped and all wore grey blouses of the same + pattern. The teacher—a tall, beardless young man with patches of red + on his face—was visibly agitated as he formed the boys into rows; + the boys sang in tune, but with harsh, disagreeable voices. The manager of + the factory, Nazaritch, a bald, sharp-eyed Old Believer, could never get + on with the teachers, but the one who was now anxiously waving his hands + he despised and hated, though he could not have said why. He behaved + rudely and condescendingly to the young man, kept back his salary, meddled + with the teaching, and had finally tried to dislodge him by appointing, a + fortnight before Christmas, as porter to the school a drunken peasant, a + distant relation of his wife’s, who disobeyed the teacher and said rude + things to him before the boys. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna was aware of all this, but she could be of no help, for she + was afraid of Nazaritch herself. Now she wanted at least to be very nice + to the schoolmaster, to tell him she was very much pleased with him; but + when after the singing he began apologizing for something in great + confusion, and Auntie began to address him familiarly as she drew him + without ceremony to the table, she felt, for some reason, bored and + awkward, and giving orders that the children should be given sweets, went + upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “In reality there is something cruel in these Christmas customs,” she said + a little while afterwards, as it were to herself, looking out of window at + the boys, who were flocking from the house to the gates and shivering with + cold, putting their coats on as they ran. “At Christmas one wants to rest, + to sit at home with one’s own people, and the poor boys, the teacher, and + the clerks and foremen, are obliged for some reason to go through the + frost, then to offer their greetings, show their respect, be put to + confusion . . .” + </p> + <p> + Mishenka, who was standing at the door of the drawing-room and overheard + this, said: + </p> + <p> + “It has not come from us, and it will not end with us. Of course, I am not + an educated man, Anna Akimovna, but I do understand that the poor must + always respect the rich. It is well said, ‘God marks the rogue.’ In + prisons, night refuges, and pot-houses you never see any but the poor, + while decent people, you may notice, are always rich. It has been said of + the rich, ‘Deep calls to deep.’” + </p> + <p> + “You always express yourself so tediously and incomprehensibly,” said Anna + Akimovna, and she walked to the other end of the big drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + It was only just past eleven. The stillness of the big room, only broken + by the singing that floated up from below, made her yawn. The bronzes, the + albums, and the pictures on the walls, representing a ship at sea, cows in + a meadow, and views of the Rhine, were so absolutely stale that her eyes + simply glided over them without observing them. The holiday mood was + already growing tedious. As before, Anna Akimovna felt that she was + beautiful, good-natured, and wonderful, but now it seemed to her that that + was of no use to any one; it seemed to her that she did not know for whom + and for what she had put on this expensive dress, too, and, as always + happened on all holidays, she began to be fretted by loneliness and the + persistent thought that her beauty, her health, and her wealth, were a + mere cheat, since she was not wanted, was of no use to any one, and nobody + loved her. She walked through all the rooms, humming and looking out of + window; stopping in the drawing-room, she could not resist beginning to + talk to Mishenka. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you think of yourself, Misha,” she said, and heaved a + sigh. “Really, God might punish you for it.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “You know what I mean. Excuse my meddling in your affairs. But it seems + you are spoiling your own life out of obstinacy. You’ll admit that it is + high time you got married, and she is an excellent and deserving girl. You + will never find any one better. She’s a beauty, clever, gentle, and + devoted. . . . And her appearance! . . . If she belonged to our circle or + a higher one, people would be falling in love with her for her red hair + alone. See how beautifully her hair goes with her complexion. Oh, + goodness! You don’t understand anything, and don’t know what you want,” + Anna Akimovna said bitterly, and tears came into her eyes. “Poor girl, I + am so sorry for her! I know you want a wife with money, but I have told + you already I will give Masha a dowry.” + </p> + <p> + Mishenka could not picture his future spouse in his imagination except as + a tall, plump, substantial, pious woman, stepping like a peacock, and, for + some reason, with a long shawl over her shoulders; while Masha was thin, + slender, tightly laced, and walked with little steps, and, worst of all, + she was too fascinating and at times extremely attractive to Mishenka, and + that, in his opinion, was incongruous with matrimony and only in keeping + with loose behaviour. When Anna Akimovna had promised to give Masha a + dowry, he had hesitated for a time; but once a poor student in a brown + overcoat over his uniform, coming with a letter for Anna Akimovna, was + fascinated by Masha, and could not resist embracing her near the + hat-stand, and she had uttered a faint shriek; Mishenka, standing on the + stairs above, had seen this, and from that time had begun to cherish a + feeling of disgust for Masha. A poor student! Who knows, if she had been + embraced by a rich student or an officer the consequences might have been + different. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you wish it?” Anna Akimovna asked. “What more do you want?” + </p> + <p> + Mishenka was silent and looked at the arm-chair fixedly, and raised his + eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love some one else?” + </p> + <p> + Silence. The red-haired Masha came in with letters and visiting cards on a + tray. Guessing that they were talking about her, she blushed to tears. + </p> + <p> + “The postmen have come,” she muttered. “And there is a clerk called + Tchalikov waiting below. He says you told him to come to-day for + something.” + </p> + <p> + “What insolence!” said Anna Akimovna, moved to anger. “I gave him no + orders. Tell him to take himself off; say I am not at home!” + </p> + <p> + A ring was heard. It was the priests from her parish. They were always + shown into the aristocratic part of the house—that is, upstairs. + After the priests, Nazaritch, the manager of the factory, came to pay his + visit, and then the factory doctor; then Mishenka announced the inspector + of the elementary schools. Visitors kept arriving. + </p> + <p> + When there was a moment free, Anna Akimovna sat down in a deep arm-chair + in the drawing-room, and shutting her eyes, thought that her loneliness + was quite natural because she had not married and never would marry. . . . + But that was not her fault. Fate itself had flung her out of the simple + working-class surroundings in which, if she could trust her memory, she + had felt so snug and at home, into these immense rooms, where she could + never think what to do with herself, and could not understand why so many + people kept passing before her eyes. What was happening now seemed to her + trivial, useless, since it did not and could not give her happiness for + one minute. + </p> + <p> + “If I could fall in love,” she thought, stretching; the very thought of + this sent a rush of warmth to her heart. “And if I could escape from the + factory . . .” she mused, imagining how the weight of those factory + buildings, barracks, and schools would roll off her conscience, roll off + her mind. . . . Then she remembered her father, and thought if he had + lived longer he would certainly have married her to a working man—to + Pimenov, for instance. He would have told her to marry, and that would + have been all about it. And it would have been a good thing; then the + factory would have passed into capable hands. + </p> + <p> + She pictured his curly head, his bold profile, his delicate, ironical lips + and the strength, the tremendous strength, in his shoulders, in his arms, + in his chest, and the tenderness with which he had looked at her watch + that day. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “it would have been all right. I would have married + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Anna Akimovna,” said Mishenka, coming noiselessly into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “How you frightened me!” she said, trembling all over. “What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Anna Akimovna,” he said, laying his hand on his heart and raising his + eyebrows, “you are my mistress and my benefactress, and no one but you can + tell me what I ought to do about marriage, for you are as good as a mother + to me. . . . But kindly forbid them to laugh and jeer at me downstairs. + They won’t let me pass without it.” + </p> + <p> + “How do they jeer at you?” + </p> + <p> + “They call me Mashenka’s Mishenka.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, what nonsense!” cried Anna Akimovna indignantly. “How stupid you + all are! What a stupid you are, Misha! How sick I am of you! I can’t bear + the sight of you.” + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>inner + </p> + <p> + Just as the year before, the last to pay her visits were Krylin, an actual + civil councillor, and Lysevitch, a well-known barrister. It was already + dark when they arrived. Krylin, a man of sixty, with a wide mouth and with + grey whiskers close to his ears, with a face like a lynx, was wearing a + uniform with an Anna ribbon, and white trousers. He held Anna Akimovna’s + hand in both of his for a long while, looked intently in her face, moved + his lips, and at last said, drawling upon one note: + </p> + <p> + “I used to respect your uncle . . . and your father, and enjoyed the + privilege of their friendship. Now I feel it an agreeable duty, as you + see, to present my Christmas wishes to their honoured heiress in spite of + my infirmities and the distance I have to come. . . . And I am very glad + to see you in good health.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer Lysevitch, a tall, handsome fair man, with a slight sprinkling + of grey on his temples and beard, was distinguished by exceptionally + elegant manners; he walked with a swaying step, bowed as it were + reluctantly, and shrugged his shoulders as he talked, and all this with an + indolent grace, like a spoiled horse fresh from the stable. He was well + fed, extremely healthy, and very well off; on one occasion he had won + forty thousand roubles, but concealed the fact from his friends. He was + fond of good fare, especially cheese, truffles, and grated radish with + hemp oil; while in Paris he had eaten, so he said, baked but unwashed + guts. He spoke smoothly, fluently, without hesitation, and only + occasionally, for the sake of effect, permitted himself to hesitate and + snap his fingers as if picking up a word. He had long ceased to believe in + anything he had to say in the law courts, or perhaps he did believe in it, + but attached no kind of significance to it; it had all so long been + familiar, stale, ordinary. . . . He believed in nothing but what was + original and unusual. A copy-book moral in an original form would move him + to tears. Both his notebooks were filled with extraordinary expressions + which he had read in various authors; and when he needed to look up any + expression, he would search nervously in both books, and usually failed to + find it. Anna Akimovna’s father had in a good-humoured moment + ostentatiously appointed him legal adviser in matters concerning the + factory, and had assigned him a salary of twelve thousand roubles. The + legal business of the factory had been confined to two or three trivial + actions for recovering debts, which Lysevitch handed to his assistants. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna knew that he had nothing to do at the factory, but she could + not dismiss him—she had not the moral courage; and besides, she was + used to him. He used to call himself her legal adviser, and his salary, + which he invariably sent for on the first of the month punctually, he used + to call “stern prose.” Anna Akimovna knew that when, after her father’s + death, the timber of her forest was sold for railway sleepers, Lysevitch + had made more than fifteen thousand out of the transaction, and had shared + it with Nazaritch. When first she found out they had cheated her she had + wept bitterly, but afterwards she had grown used to it. + </p> + <p> + Wishing her a happy Christmas, and kissing both her hands, he looked her + up and down, and frowned. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t,” he said with genuine disappointment. “I have told you, my + dear, you mustn’t!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Viktor Nikolaitch?” + </p> + <p> + “I have told you you mustn’t get fat. All your family have an unfortunate + tendency to grow fat. You mustn’t,” he repeated in an imploring voice, and + kissed her hand. “You are so handsome! You are so splendid! Here, your + Excellency, let me introduce the one woman in the world whom I have ever + seriously loved.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing surprising in that. To know Anna Akimovna at your age + and not to be in love with her, that would be impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “I adore her,” the lawyer continued with perfect sincerity, but with his + usual indolent grace. “I love her, but not because I am a man and she is a + woman. When I am with her I always feel as though she belongs to some + third sex, and I to a fourth, and we float away together into the domain + of the subtlest shades, and there we blend into the spectrum. Leconte de + Lisle defines such relations better than any one. He has a superb passage, + a marvellous passage. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Lysevitch rummaged in one notebook, then in the other, and, not finding + the quotation, subsided. They began talking of the weather, of the opera, + of the arrival, expected shortly, of Duse. Anna Akimovna remembered that + the year before Lysevitch and, she fancied, Krylin had dined with her, and + now when they were getting ready to go away, she began with perfect + sincerity pointing out to them in an imploring voice that as they had no + more visits to pay, they ought to remain to dinner with her. After some + hesitation the visitors agreed. + </p> + <p> + In addition to the family dinner, consisting of cabbage soup, sucking pig, + goose with apples, and so on, a so-called “French” or “chef’s” dinner used + to be prepared in the kitchen on great holidays, in case any visitor in + the upper story wanted a meal. When they heard the clatter of crockery in + the dining-room, Lysevitch began to betray a noticeable excitement; he + rubbed his hands, shrugged his shoulders, screwed up his eyes, and + described with feeling what dinners her father and uncle used to give at + one time, and a marvellous <i>matelote</i> of turbots the cook here could + make: it was not a <i>matelote</i>, but a veritable revelation! He was + already gloating over the dinner, already eating it in imagination and + enjoying it. When Anna Akimovna took his arm and led him to the + dining-room, he tossed off a glass of vodka and put a piece of salmon in + his mouth; he positively purred with pleasure. He munched loudly, + disgustingly, emitting sounds from his nose, while his eyes grew oily and + rapacious. + </p> + <p> + The <i>hors d’oeuvres</i> were superb; among other things, there were + fresh white mushrooms stewed in cream, and sauce <i>provençale</i> made of + fried oysters and crayfish, strongly flavoured with some bitter pickles. + The dinner, consisting of elaborate holiday dishes, was excellent, and so + were the wines. Mishenka waited at table with enthusiasm. When he laid + some new dish on the table and lifted the shining cover, or poured out the + wine, he did it with the solemnity of a professor of black magic, and, + looking at his face and his movements suggesting the first figure of a + quadrille, the lawyer thought several times, “What a fool!” + </p> + <p> + After the third course Lysevitch said, turning to Anna Akimovna: + </p> + <p> + “The <i>fin de siècle</i> woman—I mean when she is young, and of + course wealthy—must be independent, clever, elegant, intellectual, + bold, and a little depraved. Depraved within limits, a little; for excess, + you know, is wearisome. You ought not to vegetate, my dear; you ought not + to live like every one else, but to get the full savour of life, and a + slight flavour of depravity is the sauce of life. Revel among flowers of + intoxicating fragrance, breathe the perfume of musk, eat hashish, and best + of all, love, love, love . . . . To begin with, in your place I would set + up seven lovers—one for each day of the week; and one I would call + Monday, one Tuesday, the third Wednesday, and so on, so that each might + know his day.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation troubled Anna Akimovna; she ate nothing and only drank a + glass of wine. + </p> + <p> + “Let me speak at last,” she said. “For myself personally, I can’t conceive + of love without family life. I am lonely, lonely as the moon in the sky, + and a waning moon, too; and whatever you may say, I am convinced, I feel + that this waning can only be restored by love in its ordinary sense. It + seems to me that such love would define my duties, my work, make clear my + conception of life. I want from love peace of soul, tranquillity; I want + the very opposite of musk, and spiritualism, and <i>fin de siècle</i> . . + . in short”—she grew embarrassed—“a husband and children.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to be married? Well, you can do that, too,” Lysevitch assented. + “You ought to have all experiences: marriage, and jealousy, and the + sweetness of the first infidelity, and even children. . . . But make haste + and live—make haste, my dear: time is passing; it won’t wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’ll go and get married!” she said, looking angrily at his well-fed, + satisfied face. “I will marry in the simplest, most ordinary way and be + radiant with happiness. And, would you believe it, I will marry some plain + working man, some mechanic or draughtsman.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no harm in that, either. The Duchess Josiana loved Gwinplin, and + that was permissible for her because she was a grand duchess. Everything + is permissible for you, too, because you are an exceptional woman: if, my + dear, you want to love a negro or an Arab, don’t scruple; send for a + negro. Don’t deny yourself anything. You ought to be as bold as your + desires; don’t fall short of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Can it be so hard to understand me?” Anna Akimovna asked with amazement, + and her eyes were bright with tears. “Understand, I have an immense + business on my hands—two thousand workmen, for whom I must answer + before God. The men who work for me grow blind and deaf. I am afraid to go + on like this; I am afraid! I am wretched, and you have the cruelty to talk + to me of negroes and . . . and you smile!” Anna Akimovna brought her fist + down on the table. “To go on living the life I am living now, or to marry + some one as idle and incompetent as myself, would be a crime. I can’t go + on living like this,” she said hotly, “I cannot!” + </p> + <p> + “How handsome she is!” said Lysevitch, fascinated by her. “My God, how + handsome she is! But why are you angry, my dear? Perhaps I am wrong; but + surely you don’t imagine that if, for the sake of ideas for which I have + the deepest respect, you renounce the joys of life and lead a dreary + existence, your workmen will be any the better for it? Not a scrap! No, + frivolity, frivolity!” he said decisively. “It’s essential for you; it’s + your duty to be frivolous and depraved! Ponder that, my dear, ponder it.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna was glad she had spoken out, and her spirits rose. She was + pleased she had spoken so well, and that her ideas were so fine and just, + and she was already convinced that if Pimenov, for instance, loved her, + she would marry him with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Mishenka began to pour out champagne. + </p> + <p> + “You make me angry, Viktor Nikolaitch,” she said, clinking glasses with + the lawyer. “It seems to me you give advice and know nothing of life + yourself. According to you, if a man be a mechanic or a draughtsman, he is + bound to be a peasant and an ignoramus! But they are the cleverest people! + Extraordinary people!” + </p> + <p> + “Your uncle and father . . . I knew them and respected them . . .” Krylin + said, pausing for emphasis (he had been sitting upright as a post, and had + been eating steadily the whole time), “were people of considerable + intelligence and . . . of lofty spiritual qualities.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to be sure, we know all about their qualities,” the lawyer muttered, + and asked permission to smoke. + </p> + <p> + When dinner was over Krylin was led away for a nap. Lysevitch finished his + cigar, and, staggering from repletion, followed Anna Akimovna into her + study. Cosy corners with photographs and fans on the walls, and the + inevitable pink or pale blue lanterns in the middle of the ceiling, he did + not like, as the expression of an insipid and unoriginal character; + besides, the memory of certain of his love affairs of which he was now + ashamed was associated with such lanterns. Anna Akimovna’s study with its + bare walls and tasteless furniture pleased him exceedingly. It was snug + and comfortable for him to sit on a Turkish divan and look at Anna + Akimovna, who usually sat on the rug before the fire, clasping her knees + and looking into the fire and thinking of something; and at such moments + it seemed to him that her peasant Old Believer blood was stirring within + her. + </p> + <p> + Every time after dinner when coffee and liqueurs were handed, he grew + livelier and began telling her various bits of literary gossip. He spoke + with eloquence and inspiration, and was carried away by his own stories; + and she listened to him and thought every time that for such enjoyment it + was worth paying not only twelve thousand, but three times that sum, and + forgave him everything she disliked in him. He sometimes told her the + story of some tale or novel he had been reading, and then two or three + hours passed unnoticed like a minute. Now he began rather dolefully in a + failing voice with his eyes shut. + </p> + <p> + “It’s ages, my dear, since I have read anything,” he said when she asked + him to tell her something. “Though I do sometimes read Jules Verne.” + </p> + <p> + “I was expecting you to tell me something new.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . . new,” Lysevitch muttered sleepily, and he settled himself + further back in the corner of the sofa. “None of the new literature, my + dear, is any use for you or me. Of course, it is bound to be such as it + is, and to refuse to recognize it is to refuse to recognize —would + mean refusing to recognize the natural order of things, and I do recognize + it, but . . .” Lysevitch seemed to have fallen asleep. But a minute later + his voice was heard again: + </p> + <p> + “All the new literature moans and howls like the autumn wind in the + chimney. ‘Ah, unhappy wretch! Ah, your life may be likened to a prison! + Ah, how damp and dark it is in your prison! Ah, you will certainly come to + ruin, and there is no chance of escape for you!’ That’s very fine, but I + should prefer a literature that would tell us how to escape from prison. + Of all contemporary writers, however, I prefer Maupassant.” Lysevitch + opened his eyes. “A fine writer, a perfect writer!” Lysevitch shifted in + his seat. “A wonderful artist! A terrible, prodigious, supernatural + artist!” Lysevitch got up from the sofa and raised his right arm. + “Maupassant!” he said rapturously. “My dear, read Maupassant! one page of + his gives you more than all the riches of the earth! Every line is a new + horizon. The softest, tenderest impulses of the soul alternate with + violent tempestuous sensations; your soul, as though under the weight of + forty thousand atmospheres, is transformed into the most insignificant + little bit of some great thing of an undefined rosy hue which I fancy, if + one could put it on one’s tongue, would yield a pungent, voluptuous taste. + What a fury of transitions, of motives, of melodies! You rest peacefully + on the lilies and the roses, and suddenly a thought —a terrible, + splendid, irresistible thought—swoops down upon you like a + locomotive, and bathes you in hot steam and deafens you with its whistle. + Read Maupassant, dear girl; I insist on it.” + </p> + <p> + Lysevitch waved his arms and paced from corner to corner in violent + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is inconceivable,” he pronounced, as though in despair; “his last + thing overwhelmed me, intoxicated me! But I am afraid you will not care + for it. To be carried away by it you must savour it, slowly suck the juice + from each line, drink it in. . . . You must drink it in! . . .” + </p> + <p> + After a long introduction, containing many words such as dæmonic + sensuality, a network of the most delicate nerves, simoom, crystal, and so + on, he began at last telling the story of the novel. He did not tell the + story so whimsically, but told it in minute detail, quoting from memory + whole descriptions and conversations; the characters of the novel + fascinated him, and to describe them he threw himself into attitudes, + changed the expression of his face and voice like a real actor. He laughed + with delight at one moment in a deep bass, and at another, on a high + shrill note, clasped his hands and clutched at his head with an expression + which suggested that it was just going to burst. Anna Akimovna listened + enthralled, though she had already read the novel, and it seemed to her + ever so much finer and more subtle in the lawyer’s version than in the + book itself. He drew her attention to various subtleties, and emphasized + the felicitous expressions and the profound thoughts, but she saw in it, + only life, life, life and herself, as though she had been a character in + the novel. Her spirits rose, and she, too, laughing and clasping her + hands, thought that she could not go on living such a life, that there was + no need to have a wretched life when one might have a splendid one. She + remembered her words and thoughts at dinner, and was proud of them; and + when Pimenov suddenly rose up in her imagination, she felt happy and + longed for him to love her. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished the story, Lysevitch sat down on the sofa, exhausted. + </p> + <p> + “How splendid you are! How handsome!” he began, a little while afterwards + in a faint voice as if he were ill. “I am happy near you, dear girl, but + why am I forty-two instead of thirty? Your tastes and mine do not + coincide: you ought to be depraved, and I have long passed that phase, and + want a love as delicate and immaterial as a ray of sunshine—that is, + from the point of view of a woman of your age, I am of no earthly use.” + </p> + <p> + In his own words, he loved Turgenev, the singer of virginal love and + purity, of youth, and of the melancholy Russian landscape; but he loved + virginal love, not from knowledge but from hearsay, as something abstract, + existing outside real life. Now he assured himself that he loved Anna + Akimovna platonically, ideally, though he did not know what those words + meant. But he felt comfortable, snug, warm. Anna Akimovna seemed to him + enchanting, original, and he imagined that the pleasant sensation that was + aroused in him by these surroundings was the very thing that was called + platonic love. + </p> + <p> + He laid his cheek on her hand and said in the tone commonly used in + coaxing little children: + </p> + <p> + “My precious, why have you punished me?” + </p> + <p> + “How? When?” + </p> + <p> + “I have had no Christmas present from you.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna had never heard before of their sending a Christmas box to + the lawyer, and now she was at a loss how much to give him. But she must + give him something, for he was expecting it, though he looked at her with + eyes full of love. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Nazaritch forgot it,” she said, “but it is not too late to set + it right.” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly remembered the fifteen hundred she had received the day + before, which was now lying in the toilet drawer in her bedroom. And when + she brought that ungrateful money and gave it to the lawyer, and he put it + in his coat pocket with indolent grace, the whole incident passed off + charmingly and naturally. The sudden reminder of a Christmas box and this + fifteen hundred was not unbecoming in Lysevitch. + </p> + <p> + “Merci,” he said, and kissed her finger. + </p> + <p> + Krylin came in with blissful, sleepy face, but without his decorations. + </p> + <p> + Lysevitch and he stayed a little longer and drank a glass of tea each, and + began to get ready to go. Anna Akimovna was a little embarrassed. . . . + She had utterly forgotten in what department Krylin served, and whether + she had to give him money or not; and if she had to, whether to give it + now or send it afterwards in an envelope. + </p> + <p> + “Where does he serve?” she whispered to Lysevitch. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness knows,” muttered Lysevitch, yawning. + </p> + <p> + She reflected that if Krylin used to visit her father and her uncle and + respected them, it was probably not for nothing: apparently he had been + charitable at their expense, serving in some charitable institution. As + she said good-bye she slipped three hundred roubles into his hand; he + seemed taken aback, and looked at her for a minute in silence with his + pewtery eyes, but then seemed to understand and said: + </p> + <p> + “The receipt, honoured Anna Akimovna, you can only receive on the New + Year.” + </p> + <p> + Lysevitch had become utterly limp and heavy, and he staggered when + Mishenka put on his overcoat. + </p> + <p> + As he went downstairs he looked like a man in the last stage of + exhaustion, and it was evident that he would drop asleep as soon as he got + into his sledge. + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency,” he said languidly to Krylin, stopping in the middle of + the staircase, “has it ever happened to you to experience a feeling as + though some unseen force were drawing you out longer and longer? You are + drawn out and turn into the finest wire. Subjectively this finds + expression in a curious voluptuous feeling which is impossible to compare + with anything.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna, standing at the top of the stairs, saw each of them give + Mishenka a note. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye! Come again!” she called to them, and ran into her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + She quickly threw off her dress, that she was weary of already, put on a + dressing-gown, and ran downstairs; and as she ran downstairs she laughed + and thumped with her feet like a school-boy; she had a great desire for + mischief. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>vening + </p> + <p> + Auntie, in a loose print blouse, Varvarushka and two old women, were + sitting in the dining-room having supper. A big piece of salt meat, a ham, + and various savouries, were lying on the table before them, and clouds of + steam were rising from the meat, which looked particularly fat and + appetizing. Wine was not served on the lower story, but they made up for + it with a great number of spirits and home-made liqueurs. Agafyushka, the + fat, white-skinned, well-fed cook, was standing with her arms crossed in + the doorway and talking to the old women, and the dishes were being handed + by the downstairs Masha, a dark girl with a crimson ribbon in her hair. + The old women had had enough to eat before the morning was over, and an + hour before supper had had tea and buns, and so they were now eating with + effort—as it were, from a sense of duty. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my girl!” sighed Auntie, as Anna Akimovna ran into the dining-room + and sat down beside her. “You’ve frightened me to death!” + </p> + <p> + Every one in the house was pleased when Anna Akimovna was in good spirits + and played pranks; this always reminded them that the old men were dead + and that the old women had no authority in the house, and any one could do + as he liked without any fear of being sharply called to account for it. + Only the two old women glanced askance at Anna Akimovna with amazement: + she was humming, and it was a sin to sing at table. + </p> + <p> + “Our mistress, our beauty, our picture,” Agafyushka began chanting with + sugary sweetness. “Our precious jewel! The people, the people that have + come to-day to look at our queen. Lord have mercy upon us! Generals, and + officers and gentlemen. . . . I kept looking out of window and counting + and counting till I gave it up.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d as soon they did not come at all,” said Auntie; she looked sadly at + her niece and added: “They only waste the time for my poor orphan girl.” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna felt hungry, as she had eaten nothing since the morning. + They poured her out some very bitter liqueur; she drank it off, and tasted + the salt meat with mustard, and thought it extraordinarily nice. Then the + downstairs Masha brought in the turkey, the pickled apples and the + gooseberries. And that pleased her, too. There was only one thing that was + disagreeable: there was a draught of hot air from the tiled stove; it was + stiflingly close and every one’s cheeks were burning. After supper the + cloth was taken off and plates of peppermint biscuits, walnuts, and + raisins were brought in. + </p> + <p> + “You sit down, too . . . no need to stand there!” said Auntie to the cook. + </p> + <p> + Agafyushka sighed and sat down to the table; Masha set a wineglass of + liqueur before her, too, and Anna Akimovna began to feel as though + Agafyushka’s white neck were giving out heat like the stove. They were all + talking of how difficult it was nowadays to get married, and saying that + in old days, if men did not court beauty, they paid attention to money, + but now there was no making out what they wanted; and while hunchbacks and + cripples used to be left old maids, nowadays men would not have even the + beautiful and wealthy. Auntie began to set this down to immorality, and + said that people had no fear of God, but she suddenly remembered that Ivan + Ivanitch, her brother, and Varvarushka—both people of holy life—had + feared God, but all the same had had children on the sly, and had sent + them to the Foundling Asylum. She pulled herself up and changed the + conversation, telling them about a suitor she had once had, a factory + hand, and how she had loved him, but her brothers had forced her to marry + a widower, an ikon-painter, who, thank God, had died two years after. The + downstairs Masha sat down to the table, too, and told them with a + mysterious air that for the last week some unknown man with a black + moustache, in a great-coat with an astrachan collar, had made his + appearance every morning in the yard, had stared at the windows of the big + house, and had gone on further— to the buildings; the man was all + right, nice-looking. + </p> + <p> + All this conversation made Anna Akimovna suddenly long to be married + —long intensely, painfully; she felt as though she would give half + her life and all her fortune only to know that upstairs there was a man + who was closer to her than any one in the world, that he loved her warmly + and was missing her; and the thought of such closeness, ecstatic and + inexpressible in words, troubled her soul. And the instinct of youth and + health flattered her with lying assurances that the real poetry of life + was not over but still to come, and she believed it, and leaning back in + her chair (her hair fell down as she did so), she began laughing, and, + looking at her, the others laughed, too. And it was a long time before + this causeless laughter died down in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + She was informed that the Stinging Beetle had come. This was a pilgrim + woman called Pasha or Spiridonovna—a thin little woman of fifty, in + a black dress with a white kerchief, with keen eyes, sharp nose, and a + sharp chin; she had sly, viperish eyes and she looked as though she could + see right through every one. Her lips were shaped like a heart. Her + viperishness and hostility to every one had earned her the nickname of the + Stinging Beetle. + </p> + <p> + Going into the dining-room without looking at any one, she made for the + ikons and chanted in a high voice “Thy Holy Birth,” then she sang “The + Virgin today gives birth to the Son,” then “Christ is born,” then she + turned round and bent a piercing gaze upon all of them. + </p> + <p> + “A happy Christmas,” she said, and she kissed Anna Akimovna on the + shoulder. “It’s all I could do, all I could do to get to you, my kind + friends.” She kissed Auntie on the shoulder. “I should have come to you + this morning, but I went in to some good people to rest on the way. ‘Stay, + Spiridonovna, stay,’ they said, and I did not notice that evening was + coming on.” + </p> + <p> + As she did not eat meat, they gave her salmon and caviare. She ate looking + from under her eyelids at the company, and drank three glasses of vodka. + When she had finished she said a prayer and bowed down to Anna Akimovna’s + feet. + </p> + <p> + They began to play a game of “kings,” as they had done the year before, + and the year before that, and all the servants in both stories crowded in + at the doors to watch the game. Anna Akimovna fancied she caught a glimpse + once or twice of Mishenka, with a patronizing smile on his face, among the + crowd of peasant men and women. The first to be king was Stinging Beetle, + and Anna Akimovna as the soldier paid her tribute; and then Auntie was + king and Anna Akimovna was peasant, which excited general delight, and + Agafyushka was prince, and was quite abashed with pleasure. Another game + was got up at the other end of the table—played by the two Mashas, + Varvarushka, and the sewing-maid Marfa Ptrovna, who was waked on purpose + to play “kings,” and whose face looked cross and sleepy. + </p> + <p> + While they were playing they talked of men, and of how difficult it was to + get a good husband nowadays, and which state was to be preferred—that + of an old maid or a widow. + </p> + <p> + “You are a handsome, healthy, sturdy lass,” said Stinging Beetle to Anna + Akimovna. “But I can’t make out for whose sake you are holding back.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s to be done if nobody will have me?” + </p> + <p> + “Or maybe you have taken a vow to remain a maid?” Stinging Beetle went on, + as though she did not hear. “Well, that’s a good deed. . . . Remain one,” + she repeated, looking intently and maliciously at her cards. “All right, + my dear, remain one. . . . Yes . . . only maids, these saintly maids, are + not all alike.” She heaved a sigh and played the king. “Oh, no, my girl, + they are not all alike! Some really watch over themselves like nuns, and + butter would not melt in their mouths; and if such a one does sin in an + hour of weakness, she is worried to death, poor thing! so it would be a + sin to condemn her. While others will go dressed in black and sew their + shroud, and yet love rich old men on the sly. Yes, y-es, my canary birds, + some hussies will bewitch an old man and rule over him, my doves, rule + over him and turn his head; and when they’ve saved up money and lottery + tickets enough, they will bewitch him to his death.” + </p> + <p> + Varvarushka’s only response to these hints was to heave a sigh and look + towards the ikons. There was an expression of Christian meekness on her + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “I know a maid like that, my bitterest enemy,” Stinging Beetle went on, + looking round at every one in triumph; “she is always sighing, too, and + looking at the ikons, the she-devil. When she used to rule in a certain + old man’s house, if one went to her she would give one a crust, and bid + one bow down to the ikons while she would sing: ‘In conception Thou dost + abide a Virgin . . . !’ On holidays she will give one a bite, and on + working days she will reproach one for it. But nowadays I will make merry + over her! I will make as merry as I please, my jewel.” + </p> + <p> + Varvarushka glanced at the ikons again and crossed herself. + </p> + <p> + “But no one will have me, Spiridonovna,” said Anna Akimovna to change the + conversation. “What’s to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s your own fault. You keep waiting for highly educated gentlemen, but + you ought to marry one of your own sort, a merchant.” + </p> + <p> + “We don’t want a merchant,” said Auntie, all in a flutter. “Queen of + Heaven, preserve us! A gentleman will spend your money, but then he will + be kind to you, you poor little fool. But a merchant will be so strict + that you won’t feel at home in your own house. You’ll be wanting to fondle + him and he will be counting his money, and when you sit down to meals with + him, he’ll grudge you every mouthful, though it’s your own, the lout! . . + . Marry a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + They all talked at once, loudly interrupting one another, and Auntie + tapped on the table with the nutcrackers and said, flushed and angry: + </p> + <p> + “We won’t have a merchant; we won’t have one! If you choose a merchant I + shall go to an almshouse.” + </p> + <p> + “Sh . . . Sh! . . . Hush!” cried Stinging Beetle; when all were silent she + screwed up one eye and said: “Do you know what, Annushka, my birdie . . . + ? There is no need for you to get married really like every one else. + You’re rich and free, you are your own mistress; but yet, my child, it + doesn’t seem the right thing for you to be an old maid. I’ll find you, you + know, some trumpery and simple-witted man. You’ll marry him for + appearances and then have your fling, bonny lass! You can hand him five + thousand or ten maybe, and pack him off where he came from, and you will + be mistress in your own house—you can love whom you like and no one + can say anything to you. And then you can love your highly educated + gentleman. You’ll have a jolly time!” Stinging Beetle snapped her fingers + and gave a whistle. + </p> + <p> + “It’s sinful,” said Auntie. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sinful,” laughed Stinging Beetle. “She is educated, she understands. + To cut some one’s throat or bewitch an old man— that’s a sin, that’s + true; but to love some charming young friend is not a sin at all. And what + is there in it, really? There’s no sin in it at all! The old pilgrim women + have invented all that to make fools of simple folk. I, too, say + everywhere it’s a sin; I don’t know myself why it’s a sin.” Stinging + Beetle emptied her glass and cleared her throat. “Have your fling, bonny + lass,” this time evidently addressing herself. “For thirty years, wenches, + I have thought of nothing but sins and been afraid, but now I see I have + wasted my time, I’ve let it slip by like a ninny! Ah, I have been a fool, + a fool!” She sighed. “A woman’s time is short and every day is precious. + You are handsome, Annushka, and very rich; but as soon as thirty-five or + forty strikes for you your time is up. Don’t listen to any one, my girl; + live, have your fling till you are forty, and then you will have time to + pray forgiveness—there will be plenty of time to bow down and to sew + your shroud. A candle to God and a poker to the devil! You can do both at + once! Well, how is it to be? Will you make some little man happy?” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” laughed Anna Akimovna. “I don’t care now; I would marry a + working man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that would do all right! Oh, what a fine fellow you would choose + then!” Stinging Beetle screwed up her eyes and shook her head. “O—o—oh!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell her myself,” said Auntie, “it’s no good waiting for a gentleman, + so she had better marry, not a gentleman, but some one humbler; anyway we + should have a man in the house to look after things. And there are lots of + good men. She might have some one out of the factory. They are all sober, + steady men. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so,” Stinging Beetle agreed. “They are capital fellows. If + you like, Aunt, I will make a match for her with Vassily Lebedinsky?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Vasya’s legs are so long,” said Auntie seriously. “He is so lanky. He + has no looks.” + </p> + <p> + There was laughter in the crowd by the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Pimenov? Would you like to marry Pimenov?” Stinging Beetle asked + Anna Akimovna. + </p> + <p> + “Very good. Make a match for me with Pimenov.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do!” Anna Akimovna said resolutely, and she struck her fist on the + table. “On my honour, I will marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna suddenly felt ashamed that her cheeks were burning and that + every one was looking at her; she flung the cards together on the table + and ran out of the room. As she ran up the stairs and, reaching the upper + story, sat down to the piano in the drawing-room, a murmur of sound + reached her from below like the roar of the sea; most likely they were + talking of her and of Pimenov, and perhaps Stinging Beetle was taking + advantage of her absence to insult Varvarushka and was putting no check on + her language. + </p> + <p> + The lamp in the big room was the only light burning in the upper story, + and it sent a glimmer through the door into the dark drawing-room. It was + between nine and ten, not later. Anna Akimovna played a waltz, then + another, then a third; she went on playing without stopping. She looked + into the dark corner beyond the piano, smiled, and inwardly called to it, + and the idea occurred to her that she might drive off to the town to see + some one, Lysevitch for instance, and tell him what was passing in her + heart. She wanted to talk without ceasing, to laugh, to play the fool, but + the dark corner was sullenly silent, and all round in all the rooms of the + upper story it was still and desolate. + </p> + <p> + She was fond of sentimental songs, but she had a harsh, untrained voice, + and so she only played the accompaniment and sang hardly audibly, just + above her breath. She sang in a whisper one song after another, for the + most part about love, separation, and frustrated hopes, and she imagined + how she would hold out her hands to him and say with entreaty, with tears, + “Pimenov, take this burden from me!” And then, just as though her sins had + been forgiven, there would be joy and comfort in her soul, and perhaps a + free, happy life would begin. In an anguish of anticipation she leant over + the keys, with a passionate longing for the change in her life to come at + once without delay, and was terrified at the thought that her old life + would go on for some time longer. Then she played again and sang hardly + above her breath, and all was stillness about her. There was no noise + coming from downstairs now, they must have gone to bed. It had struck ten + some time before. A long, solitary, wearisome night was approaching. + </p> + <p> + Anna Akimovna walked through all the rooms, lay down for a while on the + sofa, and read in her study the letters that had come that evening; there + were twelve letters of Christmas greetings and three anonymous letters. In + one of them some workman complained in a horrible, almost illegible + handwriting that Lenten oil sold in the factory shop was rancid and smelt + of paraffin; in another, some one respectfully informed her that over a + purchase of iron Nazaritch had lately taken a bribe of a thousand roubles + from some one; in a third she was abused for her inhumanity. + </p> + <p> + The excitement of Christmas was passing off, and to keep it up Anna + Akimovna sat down at the piano again and softly played one of the new + waltzes, then she remembered how cleverly and creditably she had spoken at + dinner today. She looked round at the dark windows, at the walls with the + pictures, at the faint light that came from the big room, and all at once + she began suddenly crying, and she felt vexed that she was so lonely, and + that she had no one to talk to and consult. To cheer herself she tried to + picture Pimenov in her imagination, but it was unsuccessful. + </p> + <p> + It struck twelve. Mishenka, no longer wearing his swallow-tail but in his + reefer jacket, came in, and without speaking lighted two candles; then he + went out and returned a minute later with a cup of tea on a tray. + </p> + <p> + “What are you laughing at?” she asked, noticing a smile on his face. + </p> + <p> + “I was downstairs and heard the jokes you were making about Pimenov . . .” + he said, and put his hand before his laughing mouth. “If he were sat down + to dinner today with Viktor Nikolaevitch and the general, he’d have died + of fright.” Mishenka’s shoulders were shaking with laughter. “He doesn’t + know even how to hold his fork, I bet.” + </p> + <p> + The footman’s laughter and words, his reefer jacket and moustache, gave + Anna Akimovna a feeling of uncleanness. She shut her eyes to avoid seeing + him, and, against her own will, imagined Pimenov dining with Lysevitch and + Krylin, and his timid, unintellectual figure seemed to her pitiful and + helpless, and she felt repelled by it. And only now, for the first time in + the whole day, she realized clearly that all she had said and thought + about Pimenov and marrying a workman was nonsense, folly, and wilfulness. + To convince herself of the opposite, to overcome her repulsion, she tried + to recall what she had said at dinner, but now she could not see anything + in it: shame at her own thoughts and actions, and the fear that she had + said something improper during the day, and disgust at her own lack of + spirit, overwhelmed her completely. She took up a candle and, as rapidly + as if some one were pursuing her, ran downstairs, woke Spiridonovna, and + began assuring her she had been joking. Then she went to her bedroom. + Red-haired Masha, who was dozing in an arm-chair near the bed, jumped up + and began shaking up the pillows. Her face was exhausted and sleepy, and + her magnificent hair had fallen on one side. + </p> + <p> + “Tchalikov came again this evening,” she said, yawning, “but I did not + dare to announce him; he was very drunk. He says he will come again + tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he want with me?” said Anna Akimovna, and she flung her comb on + the floor. “I won’t see him, I won’t.” + </p> + <p> + She made up her mind she had no one left in life but this Tchalikov, that + he would never leave off persecuting her, and would remind her every day + how uninteresting and absurd her life was. So all she was fit for was to + help the poor. Oh, how stupid it was! + </p> + <p> + She lay down without undressing, and sobbed with shame and depression: + what seemed to her most vexatious and stupid of all was that her dreams + that day about Pimenov had been right, lofty, honourable, but at the same + time she felt that Lysevitch and even Krylin were nearer to her than + Pimenov and all the workpeople taken together. She thought that if the + long day she had just spent could have been represented in a picture, all + that had been bad and vulgar—as, for instance, the dinner, the + lawyer’s talk, the game of “kings” —would have been true, while her + dreams and talk about Pimenov would have stood out from the whole as + something false, as out of drawing; and she thought, too, that it was too + late to dream of happiness, that everything was over for her, and it was + impossible to go back to the life when she had slept under the same quilt + with her mother, or to devise some new special sort of life. + </p> + <p> + Red-haired Masha was kneeling before the bed, gazing at her in mournful + perplexity; then she, too, began crying, and laid her face against her + mistress’s arm, and without words it was clear why she was so wretched. + </p> + <p> + “We are fools!” said Anna Akimovna, laughing and crying. “We are fools! + Oh, what fools we are!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A PROBLEM + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE strictest + measures were taken that the Uskovs’ family secret might not leak out and + become generally known. Half of the servants were sent off to the theatre + or the circus; the other half were sitting in the kitchen and not allowed + to leave it. Orders were given that no one was to be admitted. The wife of + the Colonel, her sister, and the governess, though they had been initiated + into the secret, kept up a pretence of knowing nothing; they sat in the + dining-room and did not show themselves in the drawing-room or the hall. + </p> + <p> + Sasha Uskov, the young man of twenty-five who was the cause of all the + commotion, had arrived some time before, and by the advice of kind-hearted + Ivan Markovitch, his uncle, who was taking his part, he sat meekly in the + hall by the door leading to the study, and prepared himself to make an + open, candid explanation. + </p> + <p> + The other side of the door, in the study, a family council was being held. + The subject under discussion was an exceedingly disagreeable and delicate + one. Sasha Uskov had cashed at one of the banks a false promissory note, + and it had become due for payment three days before, and now his two + paternal uncles and Ivan Markovitch, the brother of his dead mother, were + deciding the question whether they should pay the money and save the + family honour, or wash their hands of it and leave the case to go for + trial. + </p> + <p> + To outsiders who have no personal interest in the matter such questions + seem simple; for those who are so unfortunate as to have to decide them in + earnest they are extremely difficult. The uncles had been talking for a + long time, but the problem seemed no nearer decision. + </p> + <p> + “My friends!” said the uncle who was a colonel, and there was a note of + exhaustion and bitterness in his voice. “Who says that family honour is a + mere convention? I don’t say that at all. I am only warning you against a + false view; I am pointing out the possibility of an unpardonable mistake. + How can you fail to see it? I am not speaking Chinese; I am speaking + Russian!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, we do understand,” Ivan Markovitch protested mildly. + </p> + <p> + “How can you understand if you say that I don’t believe in family honour? + I repeat once more: fa-mil-y ho-nour fal-sely un-der-stood is a prejudice! + Falsely understood! That’s what I say: whatever may be the motives for + screening a scoundrel, whoever he may be, and helping him to escape + punishment, it is contrary to law and unworthy of a gentleman. It’s not + saving the family honour; it’s civic cowardice! Take the army, for + instance. . . . The honour of the army is more precious to us than any + other honour, yet we don’t screen our guilty members, but condemn them. + And does the honour of the army suffer in consequence? Quite the + opposite!” + </p> + <p> + The other paternal uncle, an official in the Treasury, a taciturn, + dull-witted, and rheumatic man, sat silent, or spoke only of the fact that + the Uskovs’ name would get into the newspapers if the case went for trial. + His opinion was that the case ought to be hushed up from the first and not + become public property; but, apart from publicity in the newspapers, he + advanced no other argument in support of this opinion. + </p> + <p> + The maternal uncle, kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch, spoke smoothly, softly, + and with a tremor in his voice. He began with saying that youth has its + rights and its peculiar temptations. Which of us has not been young, and + who has not been led astray? To say nothing of ordinary mortals, even + great men have not escaped errors and mistakes in their youth. Take, for + instance, the biography of great writers. Did not every one of them + gamble, drink, and draw down upon himself the anger of right-thinking + people in his young days? If Sasha’s error bordered upon crime, they must + remember that Sasha had received practically no education; he had been + expelled from the high school in the fifth class; he had lost his parents + in early childhood, and so had been left at the tenderest age without + guidance and good, benevolent influences. He was nervous, excitable, had + no firm ground under his feet, and, above all, he had been unlucky. Even + if he were guilty, anyway he deserved indulgence and the sympathy of all + compassionate souls. He ought, of course, to be punished, but he was + punished as it was by his conscience and the agonies he was enduring now + while awaiting the sentence of his relations. The comparison with the army + made by the Colonel was delightful, and did credit to his lofty + intelligence; his appeal to their feeling of public duty spoke for the + chivalry of his soul, but they must not forget that in each individual the + citizen is closely linked with the Christian. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Shall we be false to civic duty,” Ivan Markovitch exclaimed passionately, + “if instead of punishing an erring boy we hold out to him a helping hand?” + </p> + <p> + Ivan Markovitch talked further of family honour. He had not the honour to + belong to the Uskov family himself, but he knew their distinguished family + went back to the thirteenth century; he did not forget for a minute, + either, that his precious, beloved sister had been the wife of one of the + representatives of that name. In short, the family was dear to him for + many reasons, and he refused to admit the idea that, for the sake of a + paltry fifteen hundred roubles, a blot should be cast on the escutcheon + that was beyond all price. If all the motives he had brought forward were + not sufficiently convincing, he, Ivan Markovitch, in conclusion, begged + his listeners to ask themselves what was meant by crime? Crime is an + immoral act founded upon ill-will. But is the will of man free? Philosophy + has not yet given a positive answer to that question. Different views were + held by the learned. The latest school of Lombroso, for instance, denies + the freedom of the will, and considers every crime as the product of the + purely anatomical peculiarities of the individual. + </p> + <p> + “Ivan Markovitch,” said the Colonel, in a voice of entreaty, “we are + talking seriously about an important matter, and you bring in Lombroso, + you clever fellow. Think a little, what are you saying all this for? Can + you imagine that all your thunderings and rhetoric will furnish an answer + to the question?” + </p> + <p> + Sasha Uskov sat at the door and listened. He felt neither terror, shame, + nor depression, but only weariness and inward emptiness. It seemed to him + that it made absolutely no difference to him whether they forgave him or + not; he had come here to hear his sentence and to explain himself simply + because kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch had begged him to do so. He was not + afraid of the future. It made no difference to him where he was: here in + the hall, in prison, or in Siberia. + </p> + <p> + “If Siberia, then let it be Siberia, damn it all!” + </p> + <p> + He was sick of life and found it insufferably hard. He was inextricably + involved in debt; he had not a farthing in his pocket; his family had + become detestable to him; he would have to part from his friends and his + women sooner or later, as they had begun to be too contemptuous of his + sponging on them. The future looked black. + </p> + <p> + Sasha was indifferent, and was only disturbed by one circumstance; the + other side of the door they were calling him a scoundrel and a criminal. + Every minute he was on the point of jumping up, bursting into the study + and shouting in answer to the detestable metallic voice of the Colonel: + </p> + <p> + “You are lying!” + </p> + <p> + “Criminal” is a dreadful word—that is what murderers, thieves, + robbers are; in fact, wicked and morally hopeless people. And Sasha was + very far from being all that. . . . It was true he owed a great deal and + did not pay his debts. But debt is not a crime, and it is unusual for a + man not to be in debt. The Colonel and Ivan Markovitch were both in debt. + . . . + </p> + <p> + “What have I done wrong besides?” Sasha wondered. + </p> + <p> + He had discounted a forged note. But all the young men he knew did the + same. Handrikov and Von Burst always forged IOU’s from their parents or + friends when their allowances were not paid at the regular time, and then + when they got their money from home they redeemed them before they became + due. Sasha had done the same, but had not redeemed the IOU because he had + not got the money which Handrikov had promised to lend him. He was not to + blame; it was the fault of circumstances. It was true that the use of + another person’s signature was considered reprehensible; but, still, it + was not a crime but a generally accepted dodge, an ugly formality which + injured no one and was quite harmless, for in forging the Colonel’s + signature Sasha had had no intention of causing anybody damage or loss. + </p> + <p> + “No, it doesn’t mean that I am a criminal . . .” thought Sasha. “And it’s + not in my character to bring myself to commit a crime. I am soft, + emotional. . . . When I have the money I help the poor. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Sasha was musing after this fashion while they went on talking the other + side of the door. + </p> + <p> + “But, my friends, this is endless,” the Colonel declared, getting excited. + “Suppose we were to forgive him and pay the money. You know he would not + give up leading a dissipated life, squandering money, making debts, going + to our tailors and ordering suits in our names! Can you guarantee that + this will be his last prank? As far as I am concerned, I have no faith + whatever in his reforming!” + </p> + <p> + The official of the Treasury muttered something in reply; after him Ivan + Markovitch began talking blandly and suavely again. The Colonel moved his + chair impatiently and drowned the other’s words with his detestable + metallic voice. At last the door opened and Ivan Markovitch came out of + the study; there were patches of red on his lean shaven face. + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” he said, taking Sasha by the hand. “Come and speak frankly + from your heart. Without pride, my dear boy, humbly and from your heart.” + </p> + <p> + Sasha went into the study. The official of the Treasury was sitting down; + the Colonel was standing before the table with one hand in his pocket and + one knee on a chair. It was smoky and stifling in the study. Sasha did not + look at the official or the Colonel; he felt suddenly ashamed and + uncomfortable. He looked uneasily at Ivan Markovitch and muttered: + </p> + <p> + “I’ll pay it . . . I’ll give it back. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “What did you expect when you discounted the IOU?” he heard a metallic + voice. + </p> + <p> + “I . . . Handrikov promised to lend me the money before now.” + </p> + <p> + Sasha could say no more. He went out of the study and sat down again on + the chair near the door. + </p> + <p> + He would have been glad to go away altogether at once, but he was choking + with hatred and he awfully wanted to remain, to tear the Colonel to + pieces, to say something rude to him. He sat trying to think of something + violent and effective to say to his hated uncle, and at that moment a + woman’s figure, shrouded in the twilight, appeared at the drawing-room + door. It was the Colonel’s wife. She beckoned Sasha to her, and, wringing + her hands, said, weeping: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Alexandre</i>, I know you don’t like me, but . . . listen to me; + listen, I beg you. . . . But, my dear, how can this have happened? Why, + it’s awful, awful! For goodness’ sake, beg them, defend yourself, entreat + them.” + </p> + <p> + Sasha looked at her quivering shoulders, at the big tears that were + rolling down her cheeks, heard behind his back the hollow, nervous voices + of worried and exhausted people, and shrugged his shoulders. He had not in + the least expected that his aristocratic relations would raise such a + tempest over a paltry fifteen hundred roubles! He could not understand her + tears nor the quiver of their voices. + </p> + <p> + An hour later he heard that the Colonel was getting the best of it; the + uncles were finally inclining to let the case go for trial. + </p> + <p> + “The matter’s settled,” said the Colonel, sighing. “Enough.” + </p> + <p> + After this decision all the uncles, even the emphatic Colonel, became + noticeably depressed. A silence followed. + </p> + <p> + “Merciful Heavens!” sighed Ivan Markovitch. “My poor sister!” + </p> + <p> + And he began saying in a subdued voice that most likely his sister, + Sasha’s mother, was present unseen in the study at that moment. He felt in + his soul how the unhappy, saintly woman was weeping, grieving, and begging + for her boy. For the sake of her peace beyond the grave, they ought to + spare Sasha. + </p> + <p> + The sound of a muffled sob was heard. Ivan Markovitch was weeping and + muttering something which it was impossible to catch through the door. The + Colonel got up and paced from corner to corner. The long conversation + began over again. + </p> + <p> + But then the clock in the drawing-room struck two. The family council was + over. To avoid seeing the person who had moved him to such wrath, the + Colonel went from the study, not into the hall, but into the vestibule. . + . . Ivan Markovitch came out into the hall. . . . He was agitated and + rubbing his hands joyfully. His tear-stained eyes looked good-humoured and + his mouth was twisted into a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Capital,” he said to Sasha. “Thank God! You can go home, my dear, and + sleep tranquilly. We have decided to pay the sum, but on condition that + you repent and come with me tomorrow into the country and set to work.” + </p> + <p> + A minute later Ivan Markovitch and Sasha in their great-coats and caps + were going down the stairs. The uncle was muttering something edifying. + Sasha did not listen, but felt as though some uneasy weight were gradually + slipping off his shoulders. They had forgiven him; he was free! A gust of + joy sprang up within him and sent a sweet chill to his heart. He longed to + breathe, to move swiftly, to live! Glancing at the street lamps and the + black sky, he remembered that Von Burst was celebrating his name-day that + evening at the “Bear,” and again a rush of joy flooded his soul. . . . + </p> + <p> + “I am going!” he decided. + </p> + <p> + But then he remembered he had not a farthing, that the companions he was + going to would despise him at once for his empty pockets. He must get hold + of some money, come what may! + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, lend me a hundred roubles,” he said to Ivan Markovitch. + </p> + <p> + His uncle, surprised, looked into his face and backed against a lamp-post. + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me,” said Sasha, shifting impatiently from one foot to the + other and beginning to pant. “Uncle, I entreat you, give me a hundred + roubles.” + </p> + <p> + His face worked; he trembled, and seemed on the point of attacking his + uncle. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you?” he kept asking, seeing that his uncle was still amazed and + did not understand. “Listen. If you don’t, I’ll give myself up tomorrow! I + won’t let you pay the IOU! I’ll present another false note tomorrow!” + </p> + <p> + Petrified, muttering something incoherent in his horror, Ivan Markovitch + took a hundred-rouble note out of his pocket-book and gave it to Sasha. + The young man took it and walked rapidly away from him. . . . + </p> + <p> + Taking a sledge, Sasha grew calmer, and felt a rush of joy within him + again. The “rights of youth” of which kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch had + spoken at the family council woke up and asserted themselves. Sasha + pictured the drinking-party before him, and, among the bottles, the women, + and his friends, the thought flashed through his mind: + </p> + <p> + “Now I see that I am a criminal; yes, I am a criminal.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE KISS + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>T eight o’clock on + the evening of the twentieth of May all the six batteries of the N—— + Reserve Artillery Brigade halted for the night in the village of + Myestetchki on their way to camp. When the general commotion was at its + height, while some officers were busily occupied around the guns, while + others, gathered together in the square near the church enclosure, were + listening to the quartermasters, a man in civilian dress, riding a strange + horse, came into sight round the church. The little dun-coloured horse + with a good neck and a short tail came, moving not straight forward, but + as it were sideways, with a sort of dance step, as though it were being + lashed about the legs. When he reached the officers the man on the horse + took off his hat and said: + </p> + <p> + “His Excellency Lieutenant-General von Rabbek invites the gentlemen to + drink tea with him this minute. . . .” + </p> + <p> + The horse turned, danced, and retired sideways; the messenger raised his + hat once more, and in an instant disappeared with his strange horse behind + the church. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil does it mean?” grumbled some of the officers, dispersing + to their quarters. “One is sleepy, and here this Von Rabbek with his tea! + We know what tea means.” + </p> + <p> + The officers of all the six batteries remembered vividly an incident of + the previous year, when during manoeuvres they, together with the officers + of a Cossack regiment, were in the same way invited to tea by a count who + had an estate in the neighbourhood and was a retired army officer: the + hospitable and genial count made much of them, fed them, and gave them + drink, refused to let them go to their quarters in the village and made + them stay the night. All that, of course, was very nice—nothing + better could be desired, but the worst of it was, the old army officer was + so carried away by the pleasure of the young men’s company that till + sunrise he was telling the officers anecdotes of his glorious past, taking + them over the house, showing them expensive pictures, old engravings, rare + guns, reading them autograph letters from great people, while the weary + and exhausted officers looked and listened, longing for their beds and + yawning in their sleeves; when at last their host let them go, it was too + late for sleep. + </p> + <p> + Might not this Von Rabbek be just such another? Whether he were or not, + there was no help for it. The officers changed their uniforms, brushed + themselves, and went all together in search of the gentleman’s house. In + the square by the church they were told they could get to His Excellency’s + by the lower path—going down behind the church to the river, going + along the bank to the garden, and there an avenue would taken them to the + house; or by the upper way— straight from the church by the road + which, half a mile from the village, led right up to His Excellency’s + granaries. The officers decided to go by the upper way. + </p> + <p> + “What Von Rabbek is it?” they wondered on the way. “Surely not the one who + was in command of the N—— cavalry division at Plevna?” + </p> + <p> + “No, that was not Von Rabbek, but simply Rabbe and no ‘von.’” + </p> + <p> + “What lovely weather!” + </p> + <p> + At the first of the granaries the road divided in two: one branch went + straight on and vanished in the evening darkness, the other led to the + owner’s house on the right. The officers turned to the right and began to + speak more softly. . . . On both sides of the road stretched stone + granaries with red roofs, heavy and sullen-looking, very much like + barracks of a district town. Ahead of them gleamed the windows of the + manor-house. + </p> + <p> + “A good omen, gentlemen,” said one of the officers. “Our setter is the + foremost of all; no doubt he scents game ahead of us! . . .” + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Lobytko, who was walking in front, a tall and stalwart fellow, + though entirely without moustache (he was over five-and-twenty, yet for + some reason there was no sign of hair on his round, well-fed face), + renowned in the brigade for his peculiar faculty for divining the presence + of women at a distance, turned round and said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there must be women here; I feel that by instinct.” + </p> + <p> + On the threshold the officers were met by Von Rabbek himself, a + comely-looking man of sixty in civilian dress. Shaking hands with his + guests, he said that he was very glad and happy to see them, but begged + them earnestly for God’s sake to excuse him for not asking them to stay + the night; two sisters with their children, some brothers, and some + neighbours, had come on a visit to him, so that he had not one spare room + left. + </p> + <p> + The General shook hands with every one, made his apologies, and smiled, + but it was evident by his face that he was by no means so delighted as + their last year’s count, and that he had invited the officers simply + because, in his opinion, it was a social obligation to do so. And the + officers themselves, as they walked up the softly carpeted stairs, as they + listened to him, felt that they had been invited to this house simply + because it would have been awkward not to invite them; and at the sight of + the footmen, who hastened to light the lamps in the entrance below and in + the anteroom above, they began to feel as though they had brought + uneasiness and discomfort into the house with them. In a house in which + two sisters and their children, brothers, and neighbours were gathered + together, probably on account of some family festivity, or event, how + could the presence of nineteen unknown officers possibly be welcome? + </p> + <p> + At the entrance to the drawing-room the officers were met by a tall, + graceful old lady with black eyebrows and a long face, very much like the + Empress Eugénie. Smiling graciously and majestically, she said she was + glad and happy to see her guests, and apologized that her husband and she + were on this occasion unable to invite <i>messieurs les officiers</i> to + stay the night. From her beautiful majestic smile, which instantly + vanished from her face every time she turned away from her guests, it was + evident that she had seen numbers of officers in her day, that she was in + no humour for them now, and if she invited them to her house and + apologized for not doing more, it was only because her breeding and + position in society required it of her. + </p> + <p> + When the officers went into the big dining-room, there were about a dozen + people, men and ladies, young and old, sitting at tea at the end of a long + table. A group of men was dimly visible behind their chairs, wrapped in a + haze of cigar smoke; and in the midst of them stood a lanky young man with + red whiskers, talking loudly, with a lisp, in English. Through a door + beyond the group could be seen a light room with pale blue furniture. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, there are so many of you that it is impossible to introduce + you all!” said the General in a loud voice, trying to sound very cheerful. + “Make each other’s acquaintance, gentlemen, without any ceremony!” + </p> + <p> + The officers—some with very serious and even stern faces, others + with forced smiles, and all feeling extremely awkward—somehow made + their bows and sat down to tea. + </p> + <p> + The most ill at ease of them all was Ryabovitch—a little officer in + spectacles, with sloping shoulders, and whiskers like a lynx’s. While some + of his comrades assumed a serious expression, while others wore forced + smiles, his face, his lynx-like whiskers, and spectacles seemed to say: “I + am the shyest, most modest, and most undistinguished officer in the whole + brigade!” At first, on going into the room and sitting down to the table, + he could not fix his attention on any one face or object. The faces, the + dresses, the cut-glass decanters of brandy, the steam from the glasses, + the moulded cornices—all blended in one general impression that + inspired in Ryabovitch alarm and a desire to hide his head. Like a + lecturer making his first appearance before the public, he saw everything + that was before his eyes, but apparently only had a dim understanding of + it (among physiologists this condition, when the subject sees but does not + understand, is called psychical blindness). After a little while, growing + accustomed to his surroundings, Ryabovitch saw clearly and began to + observe. As a shy man, unused to society, what struck him first was that + in which he had always been deficient—namely, the extraordinary + boldness of his new acquaintances. Von Rabbek, his wife, two elderly + ladies, a young lady in a lilac dress, and the young man with the red + whiskers, who was, it appeared, a younger son of Von Rabbek, very + cleverly, as though they had rehearsed it beforehand, took seats between + the officers, and at once got up a heated discussion in which the visitors + could not help taking part. The lilac young lady hotly asserted that the + artillery had a much better time than the cavalry and the infantry, while + Von Rabbek and the elderly ladies maintained the opposite. A brisk + interchange of talk followed. Ryabovitch watched the lilac young lady who + argued so hotly about what was unfamiliar and utterly uninteresting to + her, and watched artificial smiles come and go on her face. + </p> + <p> + Von Rabbek and his family skilfully drew the officers into the discussion, + and meanwhile kept a sharp lookout over their glasses and mouths, to see + whether all of them were drinking, whether all had enough sugar, why some + one was not eating cakes or not drinking brandy. And the longer Ryabovitch + watched and listened, the more he was attracted by this insincere but + splendidly disciplined family. + </p> + <p> + After tea the officers went into the drawing-room. Lieutenant Lobytko’s + instinct had not deceived him. There were a great number of girls and + young married ladies. The “setter” lieutenant was soon standing by a very + young, fair girl in a black dress, and, bending down to her jauntily, as + though leaning on an unseen sword, smiled and shrugged his shoulders + coquettishly. He probably talked very interesting nonsense, for the fair + girl looked at his well-fed face condescendingly and asked indifferently, + “Really?” And from that uninterested “Really?” the setter, had he been + intelligent, might have concluded that she would never call him to heel. + </p> + <p> + The piano struck up; the melancholy strains of a valse floated out of the + wide open windows, and every one, for some reason, remembered that it was + spring, a May evening. Every one was conscious of the fragrance of roses, + of lilac, and of the young leaves of the poplar. Ryabovitch, in whom the + brandy he had drunk made itself felt, under the influence of the music + stole a glance towards the window, smiled, and began watching the + movements of the women, and it seemed to him that the smell of roses, of + poplars, and lilac came not from the garden, but from the ladies’ faces + and dresses. + </p> + <p> + Von Rabbek’s son invited a scraggy-looking young lady to dance, and + waltzed round the room twice with her. Lobytko, gliding over the parquet + floor, flew up to the lilac young lady and whirled her away. Dancing + began. . . . Ryabovitch stood near the door among those who were not + dancing and looked on. He had never once danced in his whole life, and he + had never once in his life put his arm round the waist of a respectable + woman. He was highly delighted that a man should in the sight of all take + a girl he did not know round the waist and offer her his shoulder to put + her hand on, but he could not imagine himself in the position of such a + man. There were times when he envied the boldness and swagger of his + companions and was inwardly wretched; the consciousness that he was timid, + that he was round-shouldered and uninteresting, that he had a long waist + and lynx-like whiskers, had deeply mortified him, but with years he had + grown used to this feeling, and now, looking at his comrades dancing or + loudly talking, he no longer envied them, but only felt touched and + mournful. + </p> + <p> + When the quadrille began, young Von Rabbek came up to those who were not + dancing and invited two officers to have a game at billiards. The officers + accepted and went with him out of the drawing-room. Ryabovitch, having + nothing to do and wishing to take part in the general movement, slouched + after them. From the big drawing-room they went into the little + drawing-room, then into a narrow corridor with a glass roof, and thence + into a room in which on their entrance three sleepy-looking footmen jumped + up quickly from the sofa. At last, after passing through a long succession + of rooms, young Von Rabbek and the officers came into a small room where + there was a billiard-table. They began to play. + </p> + <p> + Ryabovitch, who had never played any game but cards, stood near the + billiard-table and looked indifferently at the players, while they in + unbuttoned coats, with cues in their hands, stepped about, made puns, and + kept shouting out unintelligible words. + </p> + <p> + The players took no notice of him, and only now and then one of them, + shoving him with his elbow or accidentally touching him with the end of + his cue, would turn round and say “Pardon!” Before the first game was over + he was weary of it, and began to feel he was not wanted and in the way. . + . . He felt disposed to return to the drawing-room, and he went out. + </p> + <p> + On his way back he met with a little adventure. When he had gone half-way + he noticed he had taken a wrong turning. He distinctly remembered that he + ought to meet three sleepy footmen on his way, but he had passed five or + six rooms, and those sleepy figures seemed to have vanished into the + earth. Noticing his mistake, he walked back a little way and turned to the + right; he found himself in a little dark room which he had not seen on his + way to the billiard-room. After standing there a little while, he + resolutely opened the first door that met his eyes and walked into an + absolutely dark room. Straight in front could be seen the crack in the + doorway through which there was a gleam of vivid light; from the other + side of the door came the muffled sound of a melancholy mazurka. Here, + too, as in the drawing-room, the windows were wide open and there was a + smell of poplars, lilac and roses. . . . + </p> + <p> + Ryabovitch stood still in hesitation. . . . At that moment, to his + surprise, he heard hurried footsteps and the rustling of a dress, a + breathless feminine voice whispered “At last!” And two soft, fragrant, + unmistakably feminine arms were clasped about his neck; a warm cheek was + pressed to his cheek, and simultaneously there was the sound of a kiss. + But at once the bestower of the kiss uttered a faint shriek and skipped + back from him, as it seemed to Ryabovitch, with aversion. He, too, almost + shrieked and rushed towards the gleam of light at the door. . . . + </p> + <p> + When he went back into the drawing-room his heart was beating and his + hands were trembling so noticeably that he made haste to hide them behind + his back. At first he was tormented by shame and dread that the whole + drawing-room knew that he had just been kissed and embraced by a woman. He + shrank into himself and looked uneasily about him, but as he became + convinced that people were dancing and talking as calmly as ever, he gave + himself up entirely to the new sensation which he had never experienced + before in his life. Something strange was happening to him. . . . His + neck, round which soft, fragrant arms had so lately been clasped, seemed + to him to be anointed with oil; on his left cheek near his moustache where + the unknown had kissed him there was a faint chilly tingling sensation as + from peppermint drops, and the more he rubbed the place the more distinct + was the chilly sensation; all over, from head to foot, he was full of a + strange new feeling which grew stronger and stronger . . . . He wanted to + dance, to talk, to run into the garden, to laugh aloud. . . . He quite + forgot that he was round-shouldered and uninteresting, that he had + lynx-like whiskers and an “undistinguished appearance” (that was how his + appearance had been described by some ladies whose conversation he had + accidentally overheard). When Von Rabbek’s wife happened to pass by him, + he gave her such a broad and friendly smile that she stood still and + looked at him inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “I like your house immensely!” he said, setting his spectacles straight. + </p> + <p> + The General’s wife smiled and said that the house had belonged to her + father; then she asked whether his parents were living, whether he had + long been in the army, why he was so thin, and so on. . . . After + receiving answers to her questions, she went on, and after his + conversation with her his smiles were more friendly than ever, and he + thought he was surrounded by splendid people. . . . + </p> + <p> + At supper Ryabovitch ate mechanically everything offered him, drank, and + without listening to anything, tried to understand what had just happened + to him. . . . The adventure was of a mysterious and romantic character, + but it was not difficult to explain it. No doubt some girl or young + married lady had arranged a tryst with some one in the dark room; had + waited a long time, and being nervous and excited had taken Ryabovitch for + her hero; this was the more probable as Ryabovitch had stood still + hesitating in the dark room, so that he, too, had seemed like a person + expecting something. . . . This was how Ryabovitch explained to himself + the kiss he had received. + </p> + <p> + “And who is she?” he wondered, looking round at the women’s faces. “She + must be young, for elderly ladies don’t give rendezvous. That she was a + lady, one could tell by the rustle of her dress, her perfume, her voice. . + . .” + </p> + <p> + His eyes rested on the lilac young lady, and he thought her very + attractive; she had beautiful shoulders and arms, a clever face, and a + delightful voice. Ryabovitch, looking at her, hoped that she and no one + else was his unknown. . . . But she laughed somehow artificially and + wrinkled up her long nose, which seemed to him to make her look old. Then + he turned his eyes upon the fair girl in a black dress. She was younger, + simpler, and more genuine, had a charming brow, and drank very daintily + out of her wineglass. Ryabovitch now hoped that it was she. But soon he + began to think her face flat, and fixed his eyes upon the one next her. + </p> + <p> + “It’s difficult to guess,” he thought, musing. “If one takes the shoulders + and arms of the lilac one only, adds the brow of the fair one and the eyes + of the one on the left of Lobytko, then . . .” + </p> + <p> + He made a combination of these things in his mind and so formed the image + of the girl who had kissed him, the image that he wanted her to have, but + could not find at the table. . . . + </p> + <p> + After supper, replete and exhilarated, the officers began to take leave + and say thank you. Von Rabbek and his wife began again apologizing that + they could not ask them to stay the night. + </p> + <p> + “Very, very glad to have met you, gentlemen,” said Von Rabbek, and this + time sincerely (probably because people are far more sincere and + good-humoured at speeding their parting guests than on meeting them). + “Delighted. I hope you will come on your way back! Don’t stand on + ceremony! Where are you going? Do you want to go by the upper way? No, go + across the garden; it’s nearer here by the lower way.” + </p> + <p> + The officers went out into the garden. After the bright light and the + noise the garden seemed very dark and quiet. They walked in silence all + the way to the gate. They were a little drunk, pleased, and in good + spirits, but the darkness and silence made them thoughtful for a minute. + Probably the same idea occurred to each one of them as to Ryabovitch: + would there ever come a time for them when, like Von Rabbek, they would + have a large house, a family, a garden— when they, too, would be + able to welcome people, even though insincerely, feed them, make them + drunk and contented? + </p> + <p> + Going out of the garden gate, they all began talking at once and laughing + loudly about nothing. They were walking now along the little path that led + down to the river, and then ran along the water’s edge, winding round the + bushes on the bank, the pools, and the willows that overhung the water. + The bank and the path were scarcely visible, and the other bank was + entirely plunged in darkness. Stars were reflected here and there on the + dark water; they quivered and were broken up on the surface—and from + that alone it could be seen that the river was flowing rapidly. It was + still. Drowsy curlews cried plaintively on the further bank, and in one of + the bushes on the nearest side a nightingale was trilling loudly, taking + no notice of the crowd of officers. The officers stood round the bush, + touched it, but the nightingale went on singing. + </p> + <p> + “What a fellow!” they exclaimed approvingly. “We stand beside him and he + takes not a bit of notice! What a rascal!” + </p> + <p> + At the end of the way the path went uphill, and, skirting the church + enclosure, turned into the road. Here the officers, tired with walking + uphill, sat down and lighted their cigarettes. On the other side of the + river a murky red fire came into sight, and having nothing better to do, + they spent a long time in discussing whether it was a camp fire or a light + in a window, or something else. . . . Ryabovitch, too, looked at the + light, and he fancied that the light looked and winked at him, as though + it knew about the kiss. + </p> + <p> + On reaching his quarters, Ryabovitch undressed as quickly as possible and + got into bed. Lobytko and Lieutenant Merzlyakov—a peaceable, silent + fellow, who was considered in his own circle a highly educated officer, + and was always, whenever it was possible, reading the “Vyestnik Evropi,” + which he carried about with him everywhere— were quartered in the + same hut with Ryabovitch. Lobytko undressed, walked up and down the room + for a long while with the air of a man who has not been satisfied, and + sent his orderly for beer. Merzlyakov got into bed, put a candle by his + pillow and plunged into reading the “Vyestnik Evropi.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was she?” Ryabovitch wondered, looking at the smoky ceiling. + </p> + <p> + His neck still felt as though he had been anointed with oil, and there was + still the chilly sensation near his mouth as though from peppermint drops. + The shoulders and arms of the young lady in lilac, the brow and the + truthful eyes of the fair girl in black, waists, dresses, and brooches, + floated through his imagination. He tried to fix his attention on these + images, but they danced about, broke up and flickered. When these images + vanished altogether from the broad dark background which every man sees + when he closes his eyes, he began to hear hurried footsteps, the rustle of + skirts, the sound of a kiss and—an intense groundless joy took + possession of him . . . . Abandoning himself to this joy, he heard the + orderly return and announce that there was no beer. Lobytko was terribly + indignant, and began pacing up and down again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, isn’t he an idiot?” he kept saying, stopping first before + Ryabovitch and then before Merzlyakov. “What a fool and a dummy a man must + be not to get hold of any beer! Eh? Isn’t he a scoundrel?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you can’t get beer here,” said Merzlyakov, not removing his + eyes from the “Vyestnik Evropi.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Is that your opinion?” Lobytko persisted. “Lord have mercy upon us, + if you dropped me on the moon I’d find you beer and women directly! I’ll + go and find some at once. . . . You may call me an impostor if I don’t!” + </p> + <p> + He spent a long time in dressing and pulling on his high boots, then + finished smoking his cigarette in silence and went out. + </p> + <p> + “Rabbek, Grabbek, Labbek,” he muttered, stopping in the outer room. “I + don’t care to go alone, damn it all! Ryabovitch, wouldn’t you like to go + for a walk? Eh?” + </p> + <p> + Receiving no answer, he returned, slowly undressed and got into bed. + Merzlyakov sighed, put the “Vyestnik Evropi” away, and put out the light. + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . .” muttered Lobytko, lighting a cigarette in the dark. + </p> + <p> + Ryabovitch pulled the bed-clothes over his head, curled himself up in bed, + and tried to gather together the floating images in his mind and to + combine them into one whole. But nothing came of it. He soon fell asleep, + and his last thought was that some one had caressed him and made him happy—that + something extraordinary, foolish, but joyful and delightful, had come into + his life. The thought did not leave him even in his sleep. + </p> + <p> + When he woke up the sensations of oil on his neck and the chill of + peppermint about his lips had gone, but joy flooded his heart just as the + day before. He looked enthusiastically at the window-frames, gilded by the + light of the rising sun, and listened to the movement of the passers-by in + the street. People were talking loudly close to the window. Lebedetsky, + the commander of Ryabovitch’s battery, who had only just overtaken the + brigade, was talking to his sergeant at the top of his voice, being always + accustomed to shout. + </p> + <p> + “What else?” shouted the commander. + </p> + <p> + “When they were shoeing yesterday, your high nobility, they drove a nail + into Pigeon’s hoof. The vet. put on clay and vinegar; they are leading him + apart now. And also, your honour, Artemyev got drunk yesterday, and the + lieutenant ordered him to be put in the limber of a spare gun-carriage.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant reported that Karpov had forgotten the new cords for the + trumpets and the rings for the tents, and that their honours, the + officers, had spent the previous evening visiting General Von Rabbek. In + the middle of this conversation the red-bearded face of Lebedetsky + appeared in the window. He screwed up his short-sighted eyes, looking at + the sleepy faces of the officers, and said good-morning to them. + </p> + <p> + “Is everything all right?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “One of the horses has a sore neck from the new collar,” answered Lobytko, + yawning. + </p> + <p> + The commander sighed, thought a moment, and said in a loud voice: + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of going to see Alexandra Yevgrafovna. I must call on her. + Well, good-bye. I shall catch you up in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later the brigade set off on its way. When it was + moving along the road by the granaries, Ryabovitch looked at the house on + the right. The blinds were down in all the windows. Evidently the + household was still asleep. The one who had kissed Ryabovitch the day + before was asleep, too. He tried to imagine her asleep. The wide-open + windows of the bedroom, the green branches peeping in, the morning + freshness, the scent of the poplars, lilac, and roses, the bed, a chair, + and on it the skirts that had rustled the day before, the little slippers, + the little watch on the table —all this he pictured to himself + clearly and distinctly, but the features of the face, the sweet sleepy + smile, just what was characteristic and important, slipped through his + imagination like quicksilver through the fingers. When he had ridden on + half a mile, he looked back: the yellow church, the house, and the river, + were all bathed in light; the river with its bright green banks, with the + blue sky reflected in it and glints of silver in the sunshine here and + there, was very beautiful. Ryabovitch gazed for the last time at + Myestetchki, and he felt as sad as though he were parting with something + very near and dear to him. + </p> + <p> + And before him on the road lay nothing but long familiar, uninteresting + pictures. . . . To right and to left, fields of young rye and buckwheat + with rooks hopping about in them. If one looked ahead, one saw dust and + the backs of men’s heads; if one looked back, one saw the same dust and + faces. . . . Foremost of all marched four men with sabres—this was + the vanguard. Next, behind, the crowd of singers, and behind them the + trumpeters on horseback. The vanguard and the chorus of singers, like + torch-bearers in a funeral procession, often forgot to keep the regulation + distance and pushed a long way ahead. . . . Ryabovitch was with the first + cannon of the fifth battery. He could see all the four batteries moving in + front of him. For any one not a military man this long tedious procession + of a moving brigade seems an intricate and unintelligible muddle; one + cannot understand why there are so many people round one cannon, and why + it is drawn by so many horses in such a strange network of harness, as + though it really were so terrible and heavy. To Ryabovitch it was all + perfectly comprehensible and therefore uninteresting. He had known for + ever so long why at the head of each battery there rode a stalwart + bombardier, and why he was called a bombardier; immediately behind this + bombardier could be seen the horsemen of the first and then of the middle + units. Ryabovitch knew that the horses on which they rode, those on the + left, were called one name, while those on the right were called another—it + was extremely uninteresting. Behind the horsemen came two shaft-horses. On + one of them sat a rider with the dust of yesterday on his back and a + clumsy and funny-looking piece of wood on his leg. Ryabovitch knew the + object of this piece of wood, and did not think it funny. All the riders + waved their whips mechanically and shouted from time to time. The cannon + itself was ugly. On the fore part lay sacks of oats covered with canvas, + and the cannon itself was hung all over with kettles, soldiers’ knapsacks, + bags, and looked like some small harmless animal surrounded for some + unknown reason by men and horses. To the leeward of it marched six men, + the gunners, swinging their arms. After the cannon there came again more + bombardiers, riders, shaft-horses, and behind them another cannon, as ugly + and unimpressive as the first. After the second followed a third, a + fourth; near the fourth an officer, and so on. There were six batteries in + all in the brigade, and four cannons in each battery. The procession + covered half a mile; it ended in a string of wagons near which an + extremely attractive creature—the ass, Magar, brought by a battery + commander from Turkey—paced pensively with his long-eared head + drooping. + </p> + <p> + Ryabovitch looked indifferently before and behind, at the backs of heads + and at faces; at any other time he would have been half asleep, but now he + was entirely absorbed in his new agreeable thoughts. At first when the + brigade was setting off on the march he tried to persuade himself that the + incident of the kiss could only be interesting as a mysterious little + adventure, that it was in reality trivial, and to think of it seriously, + to say the least of it, was stupid; but now he bade farewell to logic and + gave himself up to dreams. . . . At one moment he imagined himself in Von + Rabbek’s drawing-room beside a girl who was like the young lady in lilac + and the fair girl in black; then he would close his eyes and see himself + with another, entirely unknown girl, whose features were very vague. In + his imagination he talked, caressed her, leaned on her shoulder, pictured + war, separation, then meeting again, supper with his wife, children. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Brakes on!” the word of command rang out every time they went downhill. + </p> + <p> + He, too, shouted “Brakes on!” and was afraid this shout would disturb his + reverie and bring him back to reality. . . . + </p> + <p> + As they passed by some landowner’s estate Ryabovitch looked over the fence + into the garden. A long avenue, straight as a ruler, strewn with yellow + sand and bordered with young birch-trees, met his eyes. . . . With the + eagerness of a man given up to dreaming, he pictured to himself little + feminine feet tripping along yellow sand, and quite unexpectedly had a + clear vision in his imagination of the girl who had kissed him and whom he + had succeeded in picturing to himself the evening before at supper. This + image remained in his brain and did not desert him again. + </p> + <p> + At midday there was a shout in the rear near the string of wagons: + </p> + <p> + “Easy! Eyes to the left! Officers!” + </p> + <p> + The general of the brigade drove by in a carriage with a pair of white + horses. He stopped near the second battery, and shouted something which no + one understood. Several officers, among them Ryabovitch, galloped up to + them. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked the general, blinking his red eyes. “Are there any sick?” + </p> + <p> + Receiving an answer, the general, a little skinny man, chewed, thought for + a moment and said, addressing one of the officers: + </p> + <p> + “One of your drivers of the third cannon has taken off his leg-guard and + hung it on the fore part of the cannon, the rascal. Reprimand him.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes to Ryabovitch and went on: + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me your front strap is too long.” + </p> + <p> + Making a few other tedious remarks, the general looked at Lobytko and + grinned. + </p> + <p> + “You look very melancholy today, Lieutenant Lobytko,” he said. “Are you + pining for Madame Lopuhov? Eh? Gentlemen, he is pining for Madame + Lopuhov.” + </p> + <p> + The lady in question was a very stout and tall person who had long passed + her fortieth year. The general, who had a predilection for solid ladies, + whatever their ages, suspected a similar taste in his officers. The + officers smiled respectfully. The general, delighted at having said + something very amusing and biting, laughed loudly, touched his coachman’s + back, and saluted. The carriage rolled on. . . . + </p> + <p> + “All I am dreaming about now which seems to me so impossible and unearthly + is really quite an ordinary thing,” thought Ryabovitch, looking at the + clouds of dust racing after the general’s carriage. “It’s all very + ordinary, and every one goes through it. . . . That general, for instance, + has once been in love; now he is married and has children. Captain Vahter, + too, is married and beloved, though the nape of his neck is very red and + ugly and he has no waist. . . . Salrnanov is coarse and very Tatar, but he + has had a love affair that has ended in marriage. . . . I am the same as + every one else, and I, too, shall have the same experience as every one + else, sooner or later. . . .” + </p> + <p> + And the thought that he was an ordinary person, and that his life was + ordinary, delighted him and gave him courage. He pictured her and his + happiness as he pleased, and put no rein on his imagination. + </p> + <p> + When the brigade reached their halting-place in the evening, and the + officers were resting in their tents, Ryabovitch, Merzlyakov, and Lobytko + were sitting round a box having supper. Merzlyakov ate without haste, and, + as he munched deliberately, read the “Vyestnik Evropi,” which he held on + his knees. Lobytko talked incessantly and kept filling up his glass with + beer, and Ryabovitch, whose head was confused from dreaming all day long, + drank and said nothing. After three glasses he got a little drunk, felt + weak, and had an irresistible desire to impart his new sensations to his + comrades. + </p> + <p> + “A strange thing happened to me at those Von Rabbeks’,” he began, trying + to put an indifferent and ironical tone into his voice. “You know I went + into the billiard-room. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He began describing very minutely the incident of the kiss, and a moment + later relapsed into silence. . . . In the course of that moment he had + told everything, and it surprised him dreadfully to find how short a time + it took him to tell it. He had imagined that he could have been telling + the story of the kiss till next morning. Listening to him, Lobytko, who + was a great liar and consequently believed no one, looked at him + sceptically and laughed. Merzlyakov twitched his eyebrows and, without + removing his eyes from the “Vyestnik Evropi,” said: + </p> + <p> + “That’s an odd thing! How strange! . . . throws herself on a man’s neck, + without addressing him by name. .. . She must be some sort of hysterical + neurotic.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she must,” Ryabovitch agreed. + </p> + <p> + “A similar thing once happened to me,” said Lobytko, assuming a scared + expression. “I was going last year to Kovno. . . . I took a second-class + ticket. The train was crammed, and it was impossible to sleep. I gave the + guard half a rouble; he took my luggage and led me to another compartment. + . . . I lay down and covered myself with a rug. . . . It was dark, you + understand. Suddenly I felt some one touch me on the shoulder and breathe + in my face. I made a movement with my hand and felt somebody’s elbow. . . + . I opened my eyes and only imagine—a woman. Black eyes, lips red as + a prime salmon, nostrils breathing passionately—a bosom like a + buffer. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” Merzlyakov interrupted calmly, “I understand about the bosom, + but how could you see the lips if it was dark?” + </p> + <p> + Lobytko began trying to put himself right and laughing at Merzlyakov’s + unimaginativeness. It made Ryabovitch wince. He walked away from the box, + got into bed, and vowed never to confide again. + </p> + <p> + Camp life began. . . . The days flowed by, one very much like another. All + those days Ryabovitch felt, thought, and behaved as though he were in + love. Every morning when his orderly handed him water to wash with, and he + sluiced his head with cold water, he thought there was something warm and + delightful in his life. + </p> + <p> + In the evenings when his comrades began talking of love and women, he + would listen, and draw up closer; and he wore the expression of a soldier + when he hears the description of a battle in which he has taken part. And + on the evenings when the officers, out on the spree with the setter—Lobytko—at + their head, made Don Juan excursions to the “suburb,” and Ryabovitch took + part in such excursions, he always was sad, felt profoundly guilty, and + inwardly begged <i>her</i> forgiveness. . . . In hours of leisure or on + sleepless nights, when he felt moved to recall his childhood, his father + and mother— everything near and dear, in fact, he invariably thought + of Myestetchki, the strange horse, Von Rabbek, his wife who was like the + Empress Eugénie, the dark room, the crack of light at the door. . . . + </p> + <p> + On the thirty-first of August he went back from the camp, not with the + whole brigade, but with only two batteries of it. He was dreaming and + excited all the way, as though he were going back to his native place. He + had an intense longing to see again the strange horse, the church, the + insincere family of the Von Rabbeks, the dark room. The “inner voice,” + which so often deceives lovers, whispered to him for some reason that he + would be sure to see her . . . and he was tortured by the questions, How + he should meet her? What he would talk to her about? Whether she had + forgotten the kiss? If the worst came to the worst, he thought, even if he + did not meet her, it would be a pleasure to him merely to go through the + dark room and recall the past. . . . + </p> + <p> + Towards evening there appeared on the horizon the familiar church and + white granaries. Ryabovitch’s heart beat. . . . He did not hear the + officer who was riding beside him and saying something to him, he forgot + everything, and looked eagerly at the river shining in the distance, at + the roof of the house, at the dovecote round which the pigeons were + circling in the light of the setting sun. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the church and were listening to the billeting orders, + he expected every second that a man on horseback would come round the + church enclosure and invite the officers to tea, but . . . the billeting + orders were read, the officers were in haste to go on to the village, and + the man on horseback did not appear. + </p> + <p> + “Von Rabbek will hear at once from the peasants that we have come and will + send for us,” thought Ryabovitch, as he went into the hut, unable to + understand why a comrade was lighting a candle and why the orderlies were + hurriedly setting samovars. . . . + </p> + <p> + A painful uneasiness took possession of him. He lay down, then got up and + looked out of the window to see whether the messenger were coming. But + there was no sign of him. + </p> + <p> + He lay down again, but half an hour later he got up, and, unable to + restrain his uneasiness, went into the street and strode towards the + church. It was dark and deserted in the square near the church . . . . + Three soldiers were standing silent in a row where the road began to go + downhill. Seeing Ryabovitch, they roused themselves and saluted. He + returned the salute and began to go down the familiar path. + </p> + <p> + On the further side of the river the whole sky was flooded with crimson: + the moon was rising; two peasant women, talking loudly, were picking + cabbage in the kitchen garden; behind the kitchen garden there were some + dark huts. . . . And everything on the near side of the river was just as + it had been in May: the path, the bushes, the willows overhanging the + water . . . but there was no sound of the brave nightingale, and no scent + of poplar and fresh grass. + </p> + <p> + Reaching the garden, Ryabovitch looked in at the gate. The garden was dark + and still. . . . He could see nothing but the white stems of the nearest + birch-trees and a little bit of the avenue; all the rest melted together + into a dark blur. Ryabovitch looked and listened eagerly, but after + waiting for a quarter of an hour without hearing a sound or catching a + glimpse of a light, he trudged back. . . . + </p> + <p> + He went down to the river. The General’s bath-house and the bath-sheets on + the rail of the little bridge showed white before him. . . . He went on to + the bridge, stood a little, and, quite unnecessarily, touched the sheets. + They felt rough and cold. He looked down at the water. . . . The river ran + rapidly and with a faintly audible gurgle round the piles of the + bath-house. The red moon was reflected near the left bank; little ripples + ran over the reflection, stretching it out, breaking it into bits, and + seemed trying to carry it away. + </p> + <p> + “How stupid, how stupid!” thought Ryabovitch, looking at the running + water. “How unintelligent it all is!” + </p> + <p> + Now that he expected nothing, the incident of the kiss, his impatience, + his vague hopes and disappointment, presented themselves in a clear light. + It no longer seemed to him strange that he had not seen the General’s + messenger, and that he would never see the girl who had accidentally + kissed him instead of some one else; on the contrary, it would have been + strange if he had seen her. . . . + </p> + <p> + The water was running, he knew not where or why, just as it did in May. In + May it had flowed into the great river, from the great river into the sea; + then it had risen in vapour, turned into rain, and perhaps the very same + water was running now before Ryabovitch’s eyes again. . . . What for? Why? + </p> + <p> + And the whole world, the whole of life, seemed to Ryabovitch an + unintelligible, aimless jest. . . . And turning his eyes from the water + and looking at the sky, he remembered again how fate in the person of an + unknown woman had by chance caressed him, he remembered his summer dreams + and fancies, and his life struck him as extraordinarily meagre, + poverty-stricken, and colourless. . . . + </p> + <p> + When he went back to his hut he did not find one of his comrades. The + orderly informed him that they had all gone to “General von Rabbek’s, who + had sent a messenger on horseback to invite them. . . .” + </p> + <p> + For an instant there was a flash of joy in Ryabovitch’s heart, but he + quenched it at once, got into bed, and in his wrath with his fate, as + though to spite it, did not go to the General’s. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ‘ANNA ON THE NECK’ + </h2> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>FTER the wedding + they had not even light refreshments; the happy pair simply drank a glass + of champagne, changed into their travelling things, and drove to the + station. Instead of a gay wedding ball and supper, instead of music and + dancing, they went on a journey to pray at a shrine a hundred and fifty + miles away. Many people commended this, saying that Modest Alexeitch was a + man high up in the service and no longer young, and that a noisy wedding + might not have seemed quite suitable; and music is apt to sound dreary + when a government official of fifty-two marries a girl who is only just + eighteen. People said, too, that Modest Alexeitch, being a man of + principle, had arranged this visit to the monastery expressly in order to + make his young bride realize that even in marriage he put religion and + morality above everything. + </p> + <p> + The happy pair were seen off at the station. The crowd of relations and + colleagues in the service stood, with glasses in their hands, waiting for + the train to start to shout “Hurrah!” and the bride’s father, Pyotr + Leontyitch, wearing a top-hat and the uniform of a teacher, already drunk + and very pale, kept craning towards the window, glass in hand and saying + in an imploring voice: + </p> + <p> + “Anyuta! Anya, Anya! one word!” + </p> + <p> + Anna bent out of the window to him, and he whispered something to her, + enveloping her in a stale smell of alcohol, blew into her ear —she + could make out nothing—and made the sign of the cross over her face, + her bosom, and her hands; meanwhile he was breathing in gasps and tears + were shining in his eyes. And the schoolboys, Anna’s brothers, Petya and + Andrusha, pulled at his coat from behind, whispering in confusion: + </p> + <p> + “Father, hush! . . . Father, that’s enough. . . .” + </p> + <p> + When the train started, Anna saw her father run a little way after the + train, staggering and spilling his wine, and what a kind, guilty, pitiful + face he had: + </p> + <p> + “Hurra—ah!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + The happy pair were left alone. Modest Alexeitch looked about the + compartment, arranged their things on the shelves, and sat down, smiling, + opposite his young wife. He was an official of medium height, rather stout + and puffy, who looked exceedingly well nourished, with long whiskers and + no moustache. His clean-shaven, round, sharply defined chin looked like + the heel of a foot. The most characteristic point in his face was the + absence of moustache, the bare, freshly shaven place, which gradually + passed into the fat cheeks, quivering like jelly. His deportment was + dignified, his movements were deliberate, his manner was soft. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help remembering now one circumstance,” he said, smiling. “When, + five years ago, Kosorotov received the order of St. Anna of the second + grade, and went to thank His Excellency, His Excellency expressed himself + as follows: ‘So now you have three Annas: one in your buttonhole and two + on your neck.’ And it must be explained that at that time Kosorotov’s + wife, a quarrelsome and frivolous person, had just returned to him, and + that her name was Anna. I trust that when I receive the Anna of the second + grade His Excellency will not have occasion to say the same thing to me.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled with his little eyes. And she, too, smiled, troubled at the + thought that at any moment this man might kiss her with his thick damp + lips, and that she had no right to prevent his doing so. The soft + movements of his fat person frightened her; she felt both fear and + disgust. He got up, without haste took off the order from his neck, took + off his coat and waistcoat, and put on his dressing-gown. + </p> + <p> + “That’s better,” he said, sitting down beside Anna. + </p> + <p> + Anna remembered what agony the wedding had been, when it had seemed to her + that the priest, and the guests, and every one in church had been looking + at her sorrowfully and asking why, why was she, such a sweet, nice girl, + marrying such an elderly, uninteresting gentleman. Only that morning she + was delighted that everything had been satisfactorily arranged, but at the + time of the wedding, and now in the railway carriage, she felt cheated, + guilty, and ridiculous. Here she had married a rich man and yet she had no + money, her wedding-dress had been bought on credit, and when her father + and brothers had been saying good-bye, she could see from their faces that + they had not a farthing. Would they have any supper that day? And + tomorrow? And for some reason it seemed to her that her father and the + boys were sitting tonight hungry without her, and feeling the same misery + as they had the day after their mother’s funeral. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how unhappy I am!” she thought. “Why am I so unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + With the awkwardness of a man with settled habits, unaccustomed to deal + with women, Modest Alexeitch touched her on the waist and patted her on + the shoulder, while she went on thinking about money, about her mother and + her mother’s death. When her mother died, her father, Pyotr Leontyitch, a + teacher of drawing and writing in the high school, had taken to drink, + impoverishment had followed, the boys had not had boots or goloshes, their + father had been hauled up before the magistrate, the warrant officer had + come and made an inventory of the furniture. . . . What a disgrace! Anna + had had to look after her drunken father, darn her brothers’ stockings, go + to market, and when she was complimented on her youth, her beauty, and her + elegant manners, it seemed to her that every one was looking at her cheap + hat and the holes in her boots that were inked over. And at night there + had been tears and a haunting dread that her father would soon, very soon, + be dismissed from the school for his weakness, and that he would not + survive it, but would die, too, like their mother. But ladies of their + acquaintance had taken the matter in hand and looked about for a good + match for Anna. This Modest Alexevitch, who was neither young nor + good-looking but had money, was soon found. He had a hundred thousand in + the bank and the family estate, which he had let on lease. He was a man of + principle and stood well with His Excellency; it would be nothing to him, + so they told Anna, to get a note from His Excellency to the directors of + the high school, or even to the Education Commissioner, to prevent Pyotr + Leontyitch from being dismissed. + </p> + <p> + While she was recalling these details, she suddenly heard strains of music + which floated in at the window, together with the sound of voices. The + train was stopping at a station. In the crowd beyond the platform an + accordion and a cheap squeaky fiddle were being briskly played, and the + sound of a military band came from beyond the villas and the tall birches + and poplars that lay bathed in the moonlight; there must have been a dance + in the place. Summer visitors and townspeople, who used to come out here + by train in fine weather for a breath of fresh air, were parading up and + down on the platform. Among them was the wealthy owner of all the summer + villas—a tall, stout, dark man called Artynov. He had prominent eyes + and looked like an Armenian. He wore a strange costume; his shirt was + unbuttoned, showing his chest; he wore high boots with spurs, and a black + cloak hung from his shoulders and dragged on the ground like a train. Two + boar-hounds followed him with their sharp noses to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Tears were still shining in Anna’s eyes, but she was not thinking now of + her mother, nor of money, nor of her marriage; but shaking hands with + schoolboys and officers she knew, she laughed gaily and said quickly: + </p> + <p> + “How do you do? How are you?” + </p> + <p> + She went out on to the platform between the carriages into the moonlight, + and stood so that they could all see her in her new splendid dress and + hat. + </p> + <p> + “Why are we stopping here?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “This is a junction. They are waiting for the mail train to pass.” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that Artynov was looking at her, she screwed up her eyes + coquettishly and began talking aloud in French; and because her voice + sounded so pleasant, and because she heard music and the moon was + reflected in the pond, and because Artynov, the notorious Don Juan and + spoiled child of fortune, was looking at her eagerly and with curiosity, + and because every one was in good spirits—she suddenly felt joyful, + and when the train started and the officers of her acquaintance saluted + her, she was humming the polka the strains of which reached her from the + military band playing beyond the trees; and she returned to her + compartment feeling as though it had been proved to her at the station + that she would certainly be happy in spite of everything. + </p> + <p> + The happy pair spent two days at the monastery, then went back to town. + They lived in a rent-free flat. When Modest Alexevitch had gone to the + office, Anna played the piano, or shed tears of depression, or lay down on + a couch and read novels or looked through fashion papers. At dinner Modest + Alexevitch ate a great deal and talked about politics, about appointments, + transfers, and promotions in the service, about the necessity of hard + work, and said that, family life not being a pleasure but a duty, if you + took care of the kopecks the roubles would take care of themselves, and + that he put religion and morality before everything else in the world. And + holding his knife in his fist as though it were a sword, he would say: + </p> + <p> + “Every one ought to have his duties!” + </p> + <p> + And Anna listened to him, was frightened, and could not eat, and she + usually got up from the table hungry. After dinner her husband lay down + for a nap and snored loudly, while Anna went to see her own people. Her + father and the boys looked at her in a peculiar way, as though just before + she came in they had been blaming her for having married for money a + tedious, wearisome man she did not love; her rustling skirts, her + bracelets, and her general air of a married lady, offended them and made + them uncomfortable. In her presence they felt a little embarrassed and did + not know what to talk to her about; but yet they still loved her as + before, and were not used to having dinner without her. She sat down with + them to cabbage soup, porridge, and fried potatoes, smelling of mutton + dripping. Pyotr Leontyitch filled his glass from the decanter with a + trembling hand and drank it off hurriedly, greedily, with repulsion, then + poured out a second glass and then a third. Petya and Andrusha, thin, pale + boys with big eyes, would take the decanter and say desperately: + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t, father. . . . Enough, father. . . .” + </p> + <p> + And Anna, too, was troubled and entreated him to drink no more; and he + would suddenly fly into a rage and beat the table with his fists: + </p> + <p> + “I won’t allow any one to dictate to me!” he would shout. “Wretched boys! + wretched girl! I’ll turn you all out!” + </p> + <p> + But there was a note of weakness, of good-nature in his voice, and no one + was afraid of him. After dinner he usually dressed in his best. Pale, with + a cut on his chin from shaving, craning his thin neck, he would stand for + half an hour before the glass, prinking, combing his hair, twisting his + black moustache, sprinkling himself with scent, tying his cravat in a bow; + then he would put on his gloves and his top-hat, and go off to give his + private lessons. Or if it was a holiday he would stay at home and paint, + or play the harmonium, which wheezed and growled; he would try to wrest + from it pure harmonious sounds and would sing to it; or would storm at the + boys: + </p> + <p> + “Wretches! Good-for-nothing boys! You have spoiled the instrument!” + </p> + <p> + In the evening Anna’s husband played cards with his colleagues, who lived + under the same roof in the government quarters. The wives of these + gentlemen would come in—ugly, tastelessly dressed women, as coarse + as cooks—and gossip would begin in the flat as tasteless and + unattractive as the ladies themselves. Sometimes Modest Alexevitch would + take Anna to the theatre. In the intervals he would never let her stir a + step from his side, but walked about arm in arm with her through the + corridors and the foyer. When he bowed to some one, he immediately + whispered to Anna: “A civil councillor . . . visits at His Excellency’s”; + or, “A man of means . . . has a house of his own.” When they passed the + buffet Anna had a great longing for something sweet; she was fond of + chocolate and apple cakes, but she had no money, and she did not like to + ask her husband. He would take a pear, pinch it with his fingers, and ask + uncertainly: + </p> + <p> + “How much?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-five kopecks!” + </p> + <p> + “I say!” he would reply, and put it down; but as it was awkward to leave + the buffet without buying anything, he would order some seltzer-water and + drink the whole bottle himself, and tears would come into his eyes. And + Anna hated him at such times. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly flushing crimson, he would say to her rapidly: + </p> + <p> + “Bow to that old lady!” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t know her.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter. That’s the wife of the director of the local treasury! Bow, I + tell you,” he would grumble insistently. “Your head won’t drop off.” + </p> + <p> + Anna bowed and her head certainly did not drop off, but it was agonizing. + She did everything her husband wanted her to, and was furious with herself + for having let him deceive her like the veriest idiot. She had only + married him for his money, and yet she had less money now than before her + marriage. In old days her father would sometimes give her twenty kopecks, + but now she had not a farthing. + </p> + <p> + To take money by stealth or ask for it, she could not; she was afraid of + her husband, she trembled before him. She felt as though she had been + afraid of him for years. In her childhood the director of the high school + had always seemed the most impressive and terrifying force in the world, + sweeping down like a thunderstorm or a steam-engine ready to crush her; + another similar force of which the whole family talked, and of which they + were for some reason afraid, was His Excellency; then there were a dozen + others, less formidable, and among them the teachers at the high school, + with shaven upper lips, stern, implacable; and now finally, there was + Modest Alexeitch, a man of principle, who even resembled the director in + the face. And in Anna’s imagination all these forces blended together into + one, and, in the form of a terrible, huge white bear, menaced the weak and + erring such as her father. And she was afraid to say anything in + opposition to her husband, and gave a forced smile, and tried to make a + show of pleasure when she was coarsely caressed and defiled by embraces + that excited her terror. Only once Pyotr Leontyitch had the temerity to + ask for a loan of fifty roubles in order to pay some very irksome debt, + but what an agony it had been! + </p> + <p> + “Very good; I’ll give it to you,” said Modest Alexeitch after a moment’s + thought; “but I warn you I won’t help you again till you give up drinking. + Such a failing is disgraceful in a man in the government service! I must + remind you of the well-known fact that many capable people have been + ruined by that passion, though they might possibly, with temperance, have + risen in time to a very high position.” + </p> + <p> + And long-winded phrases followed: “inasmuch as . . .”, “following upon + which proposition . . .”, “in view of the aforesaid contention . . .”; and + Pyotr Leontyitch was in agonies of humiliation and felt an intense craving + for alcohol. + </p> + <p> + And when the boys came to visit Anna, generally in broken boots and + threadbare trousers, they, too, had to listen to sermons. + </p> + <p> + “Every man ought to have his duties!” Modest Alexeitch would say to them. + </p> + <p> + And he did not give them money. But he did give Anna bracelets, rings, and + brooches, saying that these things would come in useful for a rainy day. + And he often unlocked her drawer and made an inspection to see whether + they were all safe. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>eanwhile winter + came on. Long before Christmas there was an announcement in the local + papers that the usual winter ball would take place on the twenty-ninth of + December in the Hall of Nobility. Every evening after cards Modest + Alexeitch was excitedly whispering with his colleagues’ wives and glancing + at Anna, and then paced up and down the room for a long while, thinking. + At last, late one evening, he stood still, facing Anna, and said: + </p> + <p> + “You ought to get yourself a ball dress. Do you understand? Only please + consult Marya Grigoryevna and Natalya Kuzminishna.” + </p> + <p> + And he gave her a hundred roubles. She took the money, but she did not + consult any one when she ordered the ball dress; she spoke to no one but + her father, and tried to imagine how her mother would have dressed for a + ball. Her mother had always dressed in the latest fashion and had always + taken trouble over Anna, dressing her elegantly like a doll, and had + taught her to speak French and dance the mazurka superbly (she had been a + governess for five years before her marriage). Like her mother, Anna could + make a new dress out of an old one, clean gloves with benzine, hire + jewels; and, like her mother, she knew how to screw up her eyes, lisp, + assume graceful attitudes, fly into raptures when necessary, and throw a + mournful and enigmatic look into her eyes. And from her father she had + inherited the dark colour of her hair and eyes, her highly-strung nerves, + and the habit of always making herself look her best. + </p> + <p> + When, half an hour before setting off for the ball, Modest Alexeitch went + into her room without his coat on, to put his order round his neck before + her pier-glass, dazzled by her beauty and the splendour of her fresh, + ethereal dress, he combed his whiskers complacently and said: + </p> + <p> + “So that’s what my wife can look like . . . so that’s what you can look + like! Anyuta!” he went on, dropping into a tone of solemnity, “I have made + your fortune, and now I beg you to do something for mine. I beg you to get + introduced to the wife of His Excellency! For God’s sake, do! Through her + I may get the post of senior reporting clerk!” + </p> + <p> + They went to the ball. They reached the Hall of Nobility, the entrance + with the hall porter. They came to the vestibule with the hat-stands, the + fur coats; footmen scurrying about, and ladies with low necks putting up + their fans to screen themselves from the draughts. There was a smell of + gas and of soldiers. When Anna, walking upstairs on her husband’s arm, + heard the music and saw herself full length in the looking-glass in the + full glow of the lights, there was a rush of joy in her heart, and she + felt the same presentiment of happiness as in the moonlight at the + station. She walked in proudly, confidently, for the first time feeling + herself not a girl but a lady, and unconsciously imitating her mother in + her walk and in her manner. And for the first time in her life she felt + rich and free. Even her husband’s presence did not oppress her, for as she + crossed the threshold of the hall she had guessed instinctively that the + proximity of an old husband did not detract from her in the least, but, on + the contrary, gave her that shade of piquant mystery that is so attractive + to men. The orchestra was already playing and the dances had begun. After + their flat Anna was overwhelmed by the lights, the bright colours, the + music, the noise, and looking round the room, thought, “Oh, how lovely!” + She at once distinguished in the crowd all her acquaintances, every one + she had met before at parties or on picnics—all the officers, the + teachers, the lawyers, the officials, the landowners, His Excellency, + Artynov, and the ladies of the highest standing, dressed up and very <i>décollettées</i>, + handsome and ugly, who had already taken up their positions in the stalls + and pavilions of the charity bazaar, to begin selling things for the + benefit of the poor. A huge officer in epaulettes—she had been + introduced to him in Staro-Kievsky Street when she was a schoolgirl, but + now she could not remember his name—seemed to spring from out of the + ground, begging her for a waltz, and she flew away from her husband, + feeling as though she were floating away in a sailing-boat in a violent + storm, while her husband was left far away on the shore. She danced + passionately, with fervour, a waltz, then a polka and a quadrille, being + snatched by one partner as soon as she was left by another, dizzy with + music and the noise, mixing Russian with French, lisping, laughing, and + with no thought of her husband or anything else. She excited great + admiration among the men—that was evident, and indeed it could not + have been otherwise; she was breathless with excitement, felt thirsty, and + convulsively clutched her fan. Pyotr Leontyitch, her father, in a crumpled + dress-coat that smelt of benzine, came up to her, offering her a plate of + pink ice. + </p> + <p> + “You are enchanting this evening,” he said, looking at her rapturously, + “and I have never so much regretted that you were in such a hurry to get + married. . . . What was it for? I know you did it for our sake, but . . .” + With a shaking hand he drew out a roll of notes and said: “I got the money + for my lessons today, and can pay your husband what I owe him.” + </p> + <p> + She put the plate back into his hand, and was pounced upon by some one and + borne off to a distance. She caught a glimpse over her partner’s shoulder + of her father gliding over the floor, putting his arm round a lady and + whirling down the ball-room with her. + </p> + <p> + “How sweet he is when he is sober!” she thought. + </p> + <p> + She danced the mazurka with the same huge officer; he moved gravely, as + heavily as a dead carcase in a uniform, twitched his shoulders and his + chest, stamped his feet very languidly—he felt fearfully disinclined + to dance. She fluttered round him, provoking him by her beauty, her bare + neck; her eyes glowed defiantly, her movements were passionate, while he + became more and more indifferent, and held out his hands to her as + graciously as a king. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, bravo!” said people watching them. + </p> + <p> + But little by little the huge officer, too, broke out; he grew lively, + excited, and, overcome by her fascination, was carried away and danced + lightly, youthfully, while she merely moved her shoulders and looked slyly + at him as though she were now the queen and he were her slave; and at that + moment it seemed to her that the whole room was looking at them, and that + everybody was thrilled and envied them. The huge officer had hardly had + time to thank her for the dance, when the crowd suddenly parted and the + men drew themselves up in a strange way, with their hands at their sides. + </p> + <p> + His Excellency, with two stars on his dress-coat, was walking up to her. + Yes, His Excellency was walking straight towards her, for he was staring + directly at her with a sugary smile, while he licked his lips as he always + did when he saw a pretty woman. + </p> + <p> + “Delighted, delighted . . .” he began. “I shall order your husband to be + clapped in a lock-up for keeping such a treasure hidden from us till now. + I’ve come to you with a message from my wife,” he went on, offering her + his arm. “You must help us. . . . M-m-yes. . . . We ought to give you the + prize for beauty as they do in America . . . . M-m-yes. . . . The + Americans. . . . My wife is expecting you impatiently.” + </p> + <p> + He led her to a stall and presented her to a middle-aged lady, the lower + part of whose face was disproportionately large, so that she looked as + though she were holding a big stone in her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “You must help us,” she said through her nose in a sing-song voice. “All + the pretty women are working for our charity bazaar, and you are the only + one enjoying yourself. Why won’t you help us?” + </p> + <p> + She went away, and Anna took her place by the cups and the silver samovar. + She was soon doing a lively trade. Anna asked no less than a rouble for a + cup of tea, and made the huge officer drink three cups. Artynov, the rich + man with prominent eyes, who suffered from asthma, came up, too; he was + not dressed in the strange costume in which Anna had seen him in the + summer at the station, but wore a dress-coat like every one else. Keeping + his eyes fixed on Anna, he drank a glass of champagne and paid a hundred + roubles for it, then drank some tea and gave another hundred—all + this without saying a word, as he was short of breath through asthma. . . + . Anna invited purchasers and got money out of them, firmly convinced by + now that her smiles and glances could not fail to afford these people + great pleasure. She realized now that she was created exclusively for this + noisy, brilliant, laughing life, with its music, its dancers, its adorers, + and her old terror of a force that was sweeping down upon her and menacing + to crush her seemed to her ridiculous: she was afraid of no one now, and + only regretted that her mother could not be there to rejoice at her + success. + </p> + <p> + Pyotr Leontyitch, pale by now but still steady on his legs, came up to the + stall and asked for a glass of brandy. Anna turned crimson, expecting him + to say something inappropriate (she was already ashamed of having such a + poor and ordinary father); but he emptied his glass, took ten roubles out + of his roll of notes, flung it down, and walked away with dignity without + uttering a word. A little later she saw him dancing in the grand chain, + and by now he was staggering and kept shouting something, to the great + confusion of his partner; and Anna remembered how at the ball three years + before he had staggered and shouted in the same way, and it had ended in + the police-sergeant’s taking him home to bed, and next day the director + had threatened to dismiss him from his post. How inappropriate that memory + was! + </p> + <p> + When the samovars were put out in the stalls and the exhausted ladies + handed over their takings to the middle-aged lady with the stone in her + mouth, Artynov took Anna on his arm to the hall where supper was served to + all who had assisted at the bazaar. There were some twenty people at + supper, not more, but it was very noisy. His Excellency proposed a toast: + </p> + <p> + “In this magnificent dining-room it will be appropriate to drink to the + success of the cheap dining-rooms, which are the object of today’s + bazaar.” + </p> + <p> + The brigadier-general proposed the toast: “To the power by which even the + artillery is vanquished,” and all the company clinked glasses with the + ladies. It was very, very gay. + </p> + <p> + When Anna was escorted home it was daylight and the cooks were going to + market. Joyful, intoxicated, full of new sensations, exhausted, she + undressed, dropped into bed, and at once fell asleep. . . . + </p> + <p> + It was past one in the afternoon when the servant waked her and announced + that M. Artynov had called. She dressed quickly and went down into the + drawing-room. Soon after Artynov, His Excellency called to thank her for + her assistance in the bazaar. With a sugary smile, chewing his lips, he + kissed her hand, and asking her permission to come again, took his leave, + while she remained standing in the middle of the drawing-room, amazed, + enchanted, unable to believe that this change in her life, this marvellous + change, had taken place so quickly; and at that moment Modest Alexeitch + walked in . . . and he, too, stood before her now with the same + ingratiating, sugary, cringingly respectful expression which she was + accustomed to see on his face in the presence of the great and powerful; + and with rapture, with indignation, with contempt, convinced that no harm + would come to her from it, she said, articulating distinctly each word: + </p> + <p> + “Be off, you blockhead!” + </p> + <p> + From this time forward Anna never had one day free, as she was always + taking part in picnics, expeditions, performances. She returned home every + day after midnight, and went to bed on the floor in the drawing-room, and + afterwards used to tell every one, touchingly, how she slept under + flowers. She needed a very great deal of money, but she was no longer + afraid of Modest Alexeitch, and spent his money as though it were her own; + and she did not ask, did not demand it, simply sent him in the bills. + “Give bearer two hundred roubles,” or “Pay one hundred roubles at once.” + </p> + <p> + At Easter Modest Alexeitch received the Anna of the second grade. When he + went to offer his thanks, His Excellency put aside the paper he was + reading and settled himself more comfortably in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “So now you have three Annas,” he said, scrutinizing his white hands and + pink nails—“one on your buttonhole and two on your neck.” + </p> + <p> + Modest Alexeitch put two fingers to his lips as a precaution against + laughing too loud and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now I have only to look forward to the arrival of a little Vladimir. I + make bold to beg your Excellency to stand godfather.” + </p> + <p> + He was alluding to Vladimir of the fourth grade, and was already imagining + how he would tell everywhere the story of this pun, so happy in its + readiness and audacity, and he wanted to say something equally happy, but + His Excellency was buried again in his newspaper, and merely gave him a + nod. + </p> + <p> + And Anna went on driving about with three horses, going out hunting with + Artynov, playing in one-act dramas, going out to supper, and was more and + more rarely with her own family; they dined now alone. Pyotr Leontyitch + was drinking more heavily than ever; there was no money, and the harmonium + had been sold long ago for debt. The boys did not let him go out alone in + the street now, but looked after him for fear he might fall down; and + whenever they met Anna driving in Staro-Kievsky Street with a pair of + horses and Artynov on the box instead of a coachman, Pyotr Leontyitch took + off his top-hat, and was about to shout to her, but Petya and Andrusha + took him by the arm, and said imploringly: + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t, father. Hush, father!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TEACHER OF LITERATURE + </h2> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE was the thud + of horses’ hoofs on the wooden floor; they brought out of the stable the + black horse, Count Nulin; then the white, Giant; then his sister Maika. + They were all magnificent, expensive horses. Old Shelestov saddled Giant + and said, addressing his daughter Masha: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Marie Godefroi, come, get on! Hopla!” + </p> + <p> + Masha Shelestov was the youngest of the family; she was eighteen, but her + family could not get used to thinking that she was not a little girl, and + so they still called her Manya and Manyusa; and after there had been a + circus in the town which she had eagerly visited, every one began to call + her Marie Godefroi. + </p> + <p> + “Hop-la!” she cried, mounting Giant. Her sister Varya got on Maika, + Nikitin on Count Nulin, the officers on their horses, and the long + picturesque cavalcade, with the officers in white tunics and the ladies in + their riding habits, moved at a walking pace out of the yard. + </p> + <p> + Nikitin noticed that when they were mounting the horses and afterwards + riding out into the street, Masha for some reason paid attention to no one + but himself. She looked anxiously at him and at Count Nulin and said: + </p> + <p> + “You must hold him all the time on the curb, Sergey Vassilitch. Don’t let + him shy. He’s pretending.” + </p> + <p> + And either because her Giant was very friendly with Count Nulin, or + perhaps by chance, she rode all the time beside Nikitin, as she had done + the day before, and the day before that. And he looked at her graceful + little figure sitting on the proud white beast, at her delicate profile, + at the chimney-pot hat, which did not suit her at all and made her look + older than her age—looked at her with joy, with tenderness, with + rapture; listened to her, taking in little of what she said, and thought: + </p> + <p> + “I promise on my honour, I swear to God, I won’t be afraid and I’ll speak + to her today.” + </p> + <p> + It was seven o’clock in the evening—the time when the scent of white + acacia and lilac is so strong that the air and the very trees seem heavy + with the fragrance. The band was already playing in the town gardens. The + horses made a resounding thud on the pavement, on all sides there were + sounds of laughter, talk, and the banging of gates. The soldiers they met + saluted the officers, the schoolboys bowed to Nikitin, and all the people + who were hurrying to the gardens to hear the band were pleased at the + sight of the party. And how warm it was! How soft-looking were the clouds + scattered carelessly about the sky, how kindly and comforting the shadows + of the poplars and the acacias, which stretched across the street and + reached as far as the balconies and second stories of the houses on the + other side. + </p> + <p> + They rode on out of the town and set off at a trot along the highroad. + Here there was no scent of lilac and acacia, no music of the band, but + there was the fragrance of the fields, there was the green of young rye + and wheat, the marmots were squeaking, the rooks were cawing. Wherever one + looked it was green, with only here and there black patches of bare + ground, and far away to the left in the cemetery a white streak of + apple-blossom. + </p> + <p> + They passed the slaughter-houses, then the brewery, and overtook a + military band hastening to the suburban gardens. + </p> + <p> + “Polyansky has a very fine horse, I don’t deny that,” Masha said to + Nikitin, with a glance towards the officer who was riding beside Varya. + “But it has blemishes. That white patch on its left leg ought not to be + there, and, look, it tosses its head. You can’t train it not to now; it + will toss its head till the end of its days.” + </p> + <p> + Masha was as passionate a lover of horses as her father. She felt a pang + when she saw other people with fine horses, and was pleased when she saw + defects in them. Nikitin knew nothing about horses; it made absolutely no + difference to him whether he held his horse on the bridle or on the curb, + whether he trotted or galloped; he only felt that his position was + strained and unnatural, and that consequently the officers who knew how to + sit in their saddles must please Masha more than he could. And he was + jealous of the officers. + </p> + <p> + As they rode by the suburban gardens some one suggested their going in and + getting some seltzer-water. They went in. There were no trees but oaks in + the gardens; they had only just come into leaf, so that through the young + foliage the whole garden could still be seen with its platform, little + tables, and swings, and the crows’ nests were visible, looking like big + hats. The party dismounted near a table and asked for seltzer-water. + People they knew, walking about the garden, came up to them. Among them + the army doctor in high boots, and the conductor of the band, waiting for + the musicians. The doctor must have taken Nikitin for a student, for he + asked: “Have you come for the summer holidays?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am here permanently,” answered Nikitin. “I am a teacher at the + school.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say so?” said the doctor, with surprise. “So young and already + a teacher?” + </p> + <p> + “Young, indeed! My goodness, I’m twenty-six! + </p> + <p> + “You have a beard and moustache, but yet one would never guess you were + more than twenty-two or twenty-three. How young-looking you are!” + </p> + <p> + “What a beast!” thought Nikitin. “He, too, takes me for a + whipper-snapper!” + </p> + <p> + He disliked it extremely when people referred to his youth, especially in + the presence of women or the schoolboys. Ever since he had come to the + town as a master in the school he had detested his own youthful + appearance. The schoolboys were not afraid of him, old people called him + “young man,” ladies preferred dancing with him to listening to his long + arguments, and he would have given a great deal to be ten years older. + </p> + <p> + From the garden they went on to the Shelestovs’ farm. There they stopped + at the gate and asked the bailiff’s wife, Praskovya, to bring some new + milk. Nobody drank the milk; they all looked at one another, laughed, and + galloped back. As they rode back the band was playing in the suburban + garden; the sun was setting behind the cemetery, and half the sky was + crimson from the sunset. + </p> + <p> + Masha again rode beside Nikitin. He wanted to tell her how passionately he + loved her, but he was afraid he would be overheard by the officers and + Varya, and he was silent. Masha was silent, too, and he felt why she was + silent and why she was riding beside him, and was so happy that the earth, + the sky, the lights of the town, the black outline of the brewery—all + blended for him into something very pleasant and comforting, and it seemed + to him as though Count Nulin were stepping on air and would climb up into + the crimson sky. + </p> + <p> + They arrived home. The samovar was already boiling on the table, old + Shelestov was sitting with his friends, officials in the Circuit Court, + and as usual he was criticizing something. + </p> + <p> + “It’s loutishness!” he said. “Loutishness and nothing more. Yes!” + </p> + <p> + Since Nikitin had been in love with Masha, everything at the Shelestovs’ + pleased him: the house, the garden, and the evening tea, and the + wickerwork chairs, and the old nurse, and even the word “loutishness,” + which the old man was fond of using. The only thing he did not like was + the number of cats and dogs and the Egyptian pigeons, who moaned + disconsolately in a big cage in the verandah. There were so many + house-dogs and yard-dogs that he had only learnt to recognize two of them + in the course of his acquaintance with the Shelestovs: Mushka and Som. + Mushka was a little mangy dog with a shaggy face, spiteful and spoiled. + She hated Nikitin: when she saw him she put her head on one side, showed + her teeth, and began: “Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga . . . rrr . . . !” Then she + would get under his chair, and when he would try to drive her away she + would go off into piercing yaps, and the family would say: “Don’t be + frightened. She doesn’t bite. She is a good dog.” + </p> + <p> + Som was a tall black dog with long legs and a tail as hard as a stick. At + dinner and tea he usually moved about under the table, and thumped on + people’s boots and on the legs of the table with his tail. He was a + good-natured, stupid dog, but Nikitin could not endure him because he had + the habit of putting his head on people’s knees at dinner and messing + their trousers with saliva. Nikitin had more than once tried to hit him on + his head with a knife-handle, to flip him on the nose, had abused him, had + complained of him, but nothing saved his trousers. + </p> + <p> + After their ride the tea, jam, rusks, and butter seemed very nice. They + all drank their first glass in silence and with great relish; over the + second they began an argument. It was always Varya who started the + arguments at tea; she was good-looking, handsomer than Masha, and was + considered the cleverest and most cultured person in the house, and she + behaved with dignity and severity, as an eldest daughter should who has + taken the place of her dead mother in the house. As the mistress of the + house, she felt herself entitled to wear a dressing-gown in the presence + of her guests, and to call the officers by their surnames; she looked on + Masha as a little girl, and talked to her as though she were a + schoolmistress. She used to speak of herself as an old maid—so she + was certain she would marry. + </p> + <p> + Every conversation, even about the weather, she invariably turned into an + argument. She had a passion for catching at words, pouncing on + contradictions, quibbling over phrases. You would begin talking to her, + and she would stare at you and suddenly interrupt: “Excuse me, excuse me, + Petrov, the other day you said the very opposite!” + </p> + <p> + Or she would smile ironically and say: “I notice, though, you begin to + advocate the principles of the secret police. I congratulate you.” + </p> + <p> + If you jested or made a pun, you would hear her voice at once: “That’s + stale,” “That’s pointless.” If an officer ventured on a joke, she would + make a contemptuous grimace and say, “An army joke!” + </p> + <p> + And she rolled the <i>r</i> so impressively that Mushka invariably + answered from under a chair, “Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga . . . !” + </p> + <p> + On this occasion at tea the argument began with Nikitin’s mentioning the + school examinations. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Sergey Vassilitch,” Varya interrupted him. “You say it’s + difficult for the boys. And whose fault is that, let me ask you? For + instance, you set the boys in the eighth class an essay on ‘Pushkin as a + Psychologist.’ To begin with, you shouldn’t set such a difficult subject; + and, secondly, Pushkin was not a psychologist. Shtchedrin now, or + Dostoevsky let us say, is a different matter, but Pushkin is a great poet + and nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “Shtchedrin is one thing, and Pushkin is another,” Nikitin answered + sulkily. + </p> + <p> + “I know you don’t think much of Shtchedrin at the high school, but that’s + not the point. Tell me, in what sense is Pushkin a psychologist?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, do you mean to say he was not a psychologist? If you like, I’ll give + you examples.” + </p> + <p> + And Nikitin recited several passages from “Onyegin” and then from “Boris + Godunov.” + </p> + <p> + “I see no psychology in that.” Varya sighed. “The psychologist is the man + who describes the recesses of the human soul, and that’s fine poetry and + nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the sort of psychology you want,” said Nikitin, offended. “You + want some one to saw my finger with a blunt saw while I howl at the top of + my voice—that’s what you mean by psychology.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s poor! But still you haven’t shown me in what sense Pushkin is a + psychologist?” + </p> + <p> + When Nikitin had to argue against anything that seemed to him narrow, + conventional, or something of that kind, he usually leaped up from his + seat, clutched at his head with both hands, and began with a moan, running + from one end of the room to another. And it was the same now: he jumped + up, clutched his head in his hands, and with a moan walked round the + table, then he sat down a little way off. + </p> + <p> + The officers took his part. Captain Polyansky began assuring Varya that + Pushkin really was a psychologist, and to prove it quoted two lines from + Lermontov; Lieutenant Gernet said that if Pushkin had not been a + psychologist they would not have erected a monument to him in Moscow. + </p> + <p> + “That’s loutishness!” was heard from the other end of the table. “I said + as much to the governor: ‘It’s loutishness, your Excellency,’ I said.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t argue any more,” cried Nikitin. “It’s unending. . . . Enough! + Ach, get away, you nasty dog!” he cried to Som, who laid his head and paw + on his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Rrr . . . nga-nga-nga!” came from under the table. + </p> + <p> + “Admit that you are wrong!” cried Varya. “Own up!” + </p> + <p> + But some young ladies came in, and the argument dropped of itself. They + all went into the drawing-room. Varya sat down at the piano and began + playing dances. They danced first a waltz, then a polka, then a quadrille + with a grand chain which Captain Polyansky led through all the rooms, then + a waltz again. + </p> + <p> + During the dancing the old men sat in the drawing-room, smoking and + looking at the young people. Among them was Shebaldin, the director of the + municipal bank, who was famed for his love of literature and dramatic art. + He had founded the local Musical and Dramatic Society, and took part in + the performances himself, confining himself, for some reason, to playing + comic footmen or to reading in a sing-song voice “The Woman who was a + Sinner.” His nickname in the town was “the Mummy,” as he was tall, very + lean and scraggy, and always had a solemn air and a fixed, lustreless eye. + He was so devoted to the dramatic art that he even shaved his moustache + and beard, and this made him still more like a mummy. + </p> + <p> + After the grand chain, he shuffled up to Nikitin sideways, coughed, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “I had the pleasure of being present during the argument at tea. I fully + share your opinion. We are of one mind, and it would be a great pleasure + to me to talk to you. Have you read Lessing on the dramatic art of + Hamburg?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven’t.” + </p> + <p> + Shebaldin was horrified, and waved his hands as though he had burnt his + fingers, and saying nothing more, staggered back from Nikitin. Shebaldin’s + appearance, his question, and his surprise, struck Nikitin as funny, but + he thought none the less: + </p> + <p> + “It really is awkward. I am a teacher of literature, and to this day I’ve + not read Lessing. I must read him.” + </p> + <p> + Before supper the whole company, old and young, sat down to play “fate.” + They took two packs of cards: one pack was dealt round to the company, the + other was laid on the table face downwards. + </p> + <p> + “The one who has this card in his hand,” old Shelestov began solemnly, + lifting the top card of the second pack, “is fated to go into the nursery + and kiss nurse.” + </p> + <p> + The pleasure of kissing the nurse fell to the lot of Shebaldin. They all + crowded round him, took him to the nursery, and laughing and clapping + their hands, made him kiss the nurse. There was a great uproar and + shouting. + </p> + <p> + “Not so ardently!” cried Shelestov with tears of laughter. “Not so + ardently!” + </p> + <p> + It was Nikitin’s “fate” to hear the confessions of all. He sat on a chair + in the middle of the drawing-room. A shawl was brought and put over his + head. The first who came to confess to him was Varya. + </p> + <p> + “I know your sins,” Nikitin began, looking in the darkness at her stern + profile. “Tell me, madam, how do you explain your walking with Polyansky + every day? Oh, it’s not for nothing she walks with an hussar!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s poor,” said Varya, and walked away. + </p> + <p> + Then under the shawl he saw the shine of big motionless eyes, caught the + lines of a dear profile in the dark, together with a familiar, precious + fragrance which reminded Nikitin of Masha’s room. + </p> + <p> + “Marie Godefroi,” he said, and did not know his own voice, it was so soft + and tender, “what are your sins?” + </p> + <p> + Masha screwed up her eyes and put out the tip of her tongue at him, then + she laughed and went away. And a minute later she was standing in the + middle of the room, clapping her hands and crying: + </p> + <p> + “Supper, supper, supper!” + </p> + <p> + And they all streamed into the dining-room. At supper Varya had another + argument, and this time with her father. Polyansky ate stolidly, drank red + wine, and described to Nikitin how once in a winter campaign he had stood + all night up to his knees in a bog; the enemy was so near that they were + not allowed to speak or smoke, the night was cold and dark, a piercing + wind was blowing. Nikitin listened and stole side-glances at Masha. She + was gazing at him immovably, without blinking, as though she was pondering + something or was lost in a reverie. . . . It was pleasure and agony to him + both at once. + </p> + <p> + “Why does she look at me like that?” was the question that fretted him. + “It’s awkward. People may notice it. Oh, how young, how naïve she is!” + </p> + <p> + The party broke up at midnight. When Nikitin went out at the gate, a + window opened on the first-floor, and Masha showed herself at it. + </p> + <p> + “Sergey Vassilitch!” she called. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what . . .” said Masha, evidently thinking of something to + say. “I tell you what. . . Polyansky said he would come in a day or two + with his camera and take us all. We must meet here.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + Masha vanished, the window was slammed, and some one immediately began + playing the piano in the house. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is a house!” thought Nikitin while he crossed the street. “A + house in which there is no moaning except from Egyptian pigeons, and they + only do it because they have no other means of expressing their joy!” + </p> + <p> + But the Shelestovs were not the only festive household. Nikitin had not + gone two hundred paces before he heard the strains of a piano from another + house. A little further he met a peasant playing the balalaika at the + gate. In the gardens the band struck up a potpourri of Russian songs. + </p> + <p> + Nikitin lived nearly half a mile from the Shelestoys’ in a flat of eight + rooms at the rent of three hundred roubles a year, which he shared with + his colleague Ippolit Ippolititch, a teacher of geography and history. + When Nikitin went in this Ippolit Ippolititch, a snub-nosed, middle-aged + man with a reddish beard, with a coarse, good-natured, unintellectual face + like a workman’s, was sitting at the table correcting his pupils’ maps. He + considered that the most important and necessary part of the study of + geography was the drawing of maps, and of the study of history the + learning of dates: he would sit for nights together correcting in blue + pencil the maps drawn by the boys and girls he taught, or making + chronological tables. + </p> + <p> + “What a lovely day it has been!” said Nikitin, going in to him. “I wonder + at you—how can you sit indoors?” + </p> + <p> + Ippolit Ippolititch was not a talkative person; he either remained silent + or talked of things which everybody knew already. Now what he answered + was: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very fine weather. It’s May now; we soon shall have real summer. And + summer’s a very different thing from winter. In the winter you have to + heat the stoves, but in summer you can keep warm without. In summer you + have your window open at night and still are warm, and in winter you are + cold even with the double frames in.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin had not sat at the table for more than one minute before he was + bored. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night!” he said, getting up and yawning. “I wanted to tell you + something romantic concerning myself, but you are—geography! If one + talks to you of love, you will ask one at once, ‘What was the date of the + Battle of Kalka?’ Confound you, with your battles and your capes in + Siberia!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you cross about?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is vexatious!” + </p> + <p> + And vexed that he had not spoken to Masha, and that he had no one to talk + to of his love, he went to his study and lay down upon the sofa. It was + dark and still in the study. Lying gazing into the darkness, Nikitin for + some reason began thinking how in two or three years he would go to + Petersburg, how Masha would see him off at the station and would cry; in + Petersburg he would get a long letter from her in which she would entreat + him to come home as quickly as possible. And he would write to her. . . . + He would begin his letter like that: “My dear little rat!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear little rat!” he said, and he laughed. + </p> + <p> + He was lying in an uncomfortable position. He put his arms under his head + and put his left leg over the back of the sofa. He felt more comfortable. + Meanwhile a pale light was more and more perceptible at the windows, + sleepy cocks crowed in the yard. Nikitin went on thinking how he would + come back from Petersburg, how Masha would meet him at the station, and + with a shriek of delight would fling herself on his neck; or, better + still, he would cheat her and come home by stealth late at night: the cook + would open the door, then he would go on tiptoe to the bedroom, undress + noiselessly, and jump into bed! And she would wake up and be overjoyed. + </p> + <p> + It was beginning to get quite light. By now there were no windows, no + study. On the steps of the brewery by which they had ridden that day Masha + was sitting, saying something. Then she took Nikitin by the arm and went + with him to the suburban garden. There he saw the oaks and, the crows’ + nests like hats. One of the nests rocked; out of it peeped Shebaldin, + shouting loudly: “You have not read Lessing!” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin shuddered all over and opened his eyes. Ippolit Ippolititch was + standing before the sofa, and throwing back his head, was putting on his + cravat. + </p> + <p> + “Get up; it’s time for school,” he said. “You shouldn’t sleep in your + clothes; it spoils your clothes. You should sleep in your bed, undressed.” + </p> + <p> + And as usual he began slowly and emphatically saying what everybody knew. + </p> + <p> + Nikitin’s first lesson was on Russian language in the second class. When + at nine o’clock punctually he went into the classroom, he saw written on + the blackboard two large letters—<i>M. S.</i> That, no doubt, meant + Masha Shelestov. + </p> + <p> + “They’ve scented it out already, the rascals . . .” thought Nikitin. “How + is it they know everything?” + </p> + <p> + The second lesson was in the fifth class. And there two letters, <i>M. S.</i>, + were written on the blackboard; and when he went out of the classroom at + the end of the lesson, he heard the shout behind him as though from a + theatre gallery: + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah for Masha Shelestov!” + </p> + <p> + His head was heavy from sleeping in his clothes, his limbs were weighted + down with inertia. The boys, who were expecting every day to break up + before the examinations, did nothing, were restless, and so bored that + they got into mischief. Nikitin, too, was restless, did not notice their + pranks, and was continually going to the window. He could see the street + brilliantly lighted up with the sun; above the houses the blue limpid sky, + the birds, and far, far away, beyond the gardens and the houses, vast + indefinite distance, the forests in the blue haze, the smoke from a + passing train. . . . + </p> + <p> + Here two officers in white tunics, playing with their whips, passed in the + street in the shade of the acacias. Here a lot of Jews, with grey beards, + and caps on, drove past in a waggonette. . . . The governess walked by + with the director’s granddaughter. Som ran by in the company of two other + dogs. . . . And then Varya, wearing a simple grey dress and red stockings, + carrying the “Vyestnik Evropi” in her hand, passed by. She must have been + to the town library. . . . + </p> + <p> + And it would be a long time before lessons were over at three o’clock! And + after school he could not go home nor to the Shelestovs’, but must go to + give a lesson at Wolf’s. This Wolf, a wealthy Jew who had turned Lutheran, + did not send his children to the high school, but had them taught at home + by the high-school masters, and paid five roubles a lesson. + </p> + <p> + He was bored, bored, bored. + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock he went to Wolf’s and spent there, as it seemed to him, + an eternity. He left there at five o’clock, and before seven he had to be + at the high school again to a meeting of the masters —to draw up the + plan for the <i>viva voce</i> examination of the fourth and sixth classes. + </p> + <p> + When late in the evening he left the high school and went to the + Shelestovs’, his heart was beating and his face was flushed. A month + before, even a week before, he had, every time that he made up his mind to + speak to her, prepared a whole speech, with an introduction and a + conclusion. Now he had not one word ready; everything was in a muddle in + his head, and all he knew was that today he would <i>certainly</i> declare + himself, and that it was utterly impossible to wait any longer. + </p> + <p> + “I will ask her to come to the garden,” he thought; “we’ll walk about a + little and I’ll speak.” + </p> + <p> + There was not a soul in the hall; he went into the dining-room and then + into the drawing-room. . . . There was no one there either. He could hear + Varya arguing with some one upstairs and the clink of the dressmaker’s + scissors in the nursery. + </p> + <p> + There was a little room in the house which had three names: the little + room, the passage room, and the dark room. There was a big cupboard in it + where they kept medicines, gunpowder, and their hunting gear. Leading from + this room to the first floor was a narrow wooden staircase where cats were + always asleep. There were two doors in it—one leading to the + nursery, one to the drawing-room. When Nikitin went into this room to go + upstairs, the door from the nursery opened and shut with such a bang that + it made the stairs and the cupboard tremble; Masha, in a dark dress, ran + in with a piece of blue material in her hand, and, not noticing Nikitin, + darted towards the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Stay . . .” said Nikitin, stopping her. “Good-evening, Godefroi . . . . + Allow me. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He gasped, he did not know what to say; with one hand he held her hand and + with the other the blue material. And she was half frightened, half + surprised, and looked at him with big eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me . . .” Nikitin went on, afraid she would go away. “There’s + something I must say to you. . . . Only . . . it’s inconvenient here. I + cannot, I am incapable. . . . Understand, Godefroi, I can’t —that’s + all . . . .” + </p> + <p> + The blue material slipped on to the floor, and Nikitin took Masha by the + other hand. She turned pale, moved her lips, then stepped back from + Nikitin and found herself in the corner between the wall and the cupboard. + </p> + <p> + “On my honour, I assure you . . .” he said softly. “Masha, on my honour. . + . .” + </p> + <p> + She threw back her head and he kissed her lips, and that the kiss might + last longer he put his fingers to her cheeks; and it somehow happened that + he found himself in the corner between the cupboard and the wall, and she + put her arms round his neck and pressed her head against his chin. + </p> + <p> + Then they both ran into the garden. The Shelestoys had a garden of nine + acres. There were about twenty old maples and lime-trees in it; there was + one fir-tree, and all the rest were fruit-trees: cherries, apples, pears, + horse-chestnuts, silvery olive-trees. . . . There were heaps of flowers, + too. + </p> + <p> + Nikitin and Masha ran along the avenues in silence, laughed, asked each + other from time to time disconnected questions which they did not answer. + A crescent moon was shining over the garden, and drowsy tulips and irises + were stretching up from the dark grass in its faint light, as though + entreating for words of love for them, too. + </p> + <p> + When Nikitin and Masha went back to the house, the officers and the young + ladies were already assembled and dancing the mazurka. Again Polyansky led + the grand chain through all the rooms, again after dancing they played + “fate.” Before supper, when the visitors had gone into the dining-room, + Masha, left alone with Nikitin, pressed close to him and said: + </p> + <p> + “You must speak to papa and Varya yourself; I am ashamed.” + </p> + <p> + After supper he talked to the old father. After listening to him, + Shelestov thought a little and said: + </p> + <p> + “I am very grateful for the honour you do me and my daughter, but let me + speak to you as a friend. I will speak to you, not as a father, but as one + gentleman to another. Tell me, why do you want to be married so young? + Only peasants are married so young, and that, of course, is loutishness. + But why should you? Where’s the satisfaction of putting on the fetters at + your age?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not young!” said Nikitin, offended. “I am in my twenty-seventh + year.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, the farrier has come!” cried Varya from the other room. + </p> + <p> + And the conversation broke off. Varya, Masha, and Polyansky saw Nikitin + home. When they reached his gate, Varya said: + </p> + <p> + “Why is it your mysterious Metropolit Metropolititch never shows himself + anywhere? He might come and see us.” + </p> + <p> + The mysterious Ippolit Ippolititch was sitting on his bed, taking off his + trousers, when Nikitin went in to him. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go to bed, my dear fellow,” said Nikitin breathlessly. “Stop a + minute; don’t go to bed!” + </p> + <p> + Ippolit Ippolititch put on his trousers hurriedly and asked in a flutter: + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin sat down beside his companion, and looking at him wonderingly, as + though surprised at himself, said: + </p> + <p> + “Only fancy, I am going to be married! To Masha Shelestov! I made an offer + today.” + </p> + <p> + “Well? She seems a good sort of girl. Only she is very young.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is young,” sighed Nikitin, and shrugged his shoulders with a + careworn air. “Very, very young!” + </p> + <p> + “She was my pupil at the high school. I know her. She wasn’t bad at + geography, but she was no good at history. And she was inattentive in + class, too.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin for some reason felt suddenly sorry for his companion, and longed + to say something kind and comforting to him. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, why don’t you get married?” he asked. “Why don’t you + marry Varya, for instance? She is a splendid, first-rate girl! It’s true + she is very fond of arguing, but a heart . . . what a heart! She was just + asking about you. Marry her, my dear boy! Eh?” + </p> + <p> + He knew perfectly well that Varya would not marry this dull, snub-nosed + man, but still persuaded him to marry her—why? + </p> + <p> + “Marriage is a serious step,” said Ippolit Ippolititch after a moment’s + thought. “One has to look at it all round and weigh things thoroughly; + it’s not to be done rashly. Prudence is always a good thing, and + especially in marriage, when a man, ceasing to be a bachelor, begins a new + life.” + </p> + <p> + And he talked of what every one has known for ages. Nikitin did not stay + to listen, said goodnight, and went to his own room. He undressed quickly + and quickly got into bed, in order to be able to think the sooner of his + happiness, of Masha, of the future; he smiled, then suddenly recalled that + he had not read Lessing. + </p> + <p> + “I must read him,” he thought. “Though, after all, why should I? Bother + him!” + </p> + <p> + And exhausted by his happiness, he fell asleep at once and went on smiling + till the morning. + </p> + <p> + He dreamed of the thud of horses’ hoofs on a wooden floor; he dreamed of + the black horse Count Nulin, then of the white Giant and its sister Maika, + being led out of the stable. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">“I</span>t was very + crowded and noisy in the church, and once some one cried out, and the head + priest, who was marrying Masha and me, looked through his spectacles at + the crowd, and said severely: ‘Don’t move about the church, and don’t make + a noise, but stand quietly and pray. You should have the fear of God in + your hearts.’ + </p> + <p> + “My best men were two of my colleagues, and Masha’s best men were Captain + Polyansky and Lieutenant Gernet. The bishop’s choir sang superbly. The + sputtering of the candles, the brilliant light, the gorgeous dresses, the + officers, the numbers of gay, happy faces, and a special ethereal look in + Masha, everything together—the surroundings and the words of the + wedding prayers—moved me to tears and filled me with triumph. I + thought how my life had blossomed, how poetically it was shaping itself! + Two years ago I was still a student, I was living in cheap furnished + rooms, without money, without relations, and, as I fancied then, with + nothing to look forward to. Now I am a teacher in the high school in one + of the best provincial towns, with a secure income, loved, spoiled. It is + for my sake, I thought, this crowd is collected, for my sake three + candelabra have been lighted, the deacon is booming, the choir is doing + its best; and it’s for my sake that this young creature, whom I soon shall + call my wife, is so young, so elegant, and so joyful. I recalled our first + meetings, our rides into the country, my declaration of love and the + weather, which, as though expressly, was so exquisitely fine all the + summer; and the happiness which at one time in my old rooms seemed to me + possible only in novels and stories, I was now experiencing in reality—I + was now, as it were, holding it in my hands. + </p> + <p> + “After the ceremony they all crowded in disorder round Masha and me, + expressed their genuine pleasure, congratulated us and wished us joy. The + brigadier-general, an old man of seventy, confined himself to + congratulating Masha, and said to her in a squeaky, aged voice, so loud + that it could be heard all over the church: + </p> + <p> + “‘I hope that even after you are married you may remain the rose you are + now, my dear.’ + </p> + <p> + “The officers, the director, and all the teachers smiled from politeness, + and I was conscious of an agreeable artificial smile on my face, too. Dear + Ippolit Ippolititch, the teacher of history and geography, who always says + what every one has heard before, pressed my hand warmly and said with + feeling: + </p> + <p> + “‘Hitherto you have been unmarried and have lived alone, and now you are + married and no longer single.’ + </p> + <p> + “From the church we went to a two-storied house which I am receiving as + part of the dowry. Besides that house Masha is bringing me twenty thousand + roubles, as well as a piece of waste land with a shanty on it, where I am + told there are numbers of hens and ducks which are not looked after and + are turning wild. When I got home from the church, I stretched myself at + full length on the low sofa in my new study and began to smoke; I felt + snug, cosy, and comfortable, as I never had in my life before. And + meanwhile the wedding party were shouting ‘Hurrah!’ while a wretched band + in the hall played flourishes and all sorts of trash. Varya, Masha’s + sister, ran into the study with a wineglass in her hand, and with a queer, + strained expression, as though her mouth were full of water; apparently + she had meant to go on further, but she suddenly burst out laughing and + sobbing, and the wineglass crashed on the floor. We took her by the arms + and led her away. + </p> + <p> + “‘Nobody can understand!’ she muttered afterwards, lying on the old + nurse’s bed in a back room. ‘Nobody, nobody! My God, nobody can + understand!’ + </p> + <p> + “But every one understood very well that she was four years older than her + sister Masha, and still unmarried, and that she was crying, not from envy, + but from the melancholy consciousness that her time was passing, and + perhaps had passed. When they danced the quadrille, she was back in the + drawing-room with a tear-stained and heavily powdered face, and I saw + Captain Polyansky holding a plate of ice before her while she ate it with + a spoon. + </p> + <p> + “It is past five o’clock in the morning. I took up my diary to describe my + complete and perfect happiness, and thought I would write a good six + pages, and read it tomorrow to Masha; but, strange to say, everything is + muddled in my head and as misty as a dream, and I can remember vividly + nothing but that episode with Varya, and I want to write, ‘Poor Varya!’ I + could go on sitting here and writing ‘Poor Varya!’ By the way, the trees + have begun rustling; it will rain. The crows are cawing, and my Masha, who + has just gone to sleep, has for some reason a sorrowful face.” + </p> + <p> + For a long while afterwards Nikitin did not write his diary. At the + beginning of August he had the school examinations, and after the + fifteenth the classes began. As a rule he set off for school before nine + in the morning, and before ten o’clock he was looking at his watch and + pining for his Masha and his new house. In the lower forms he would set + some boy to dictate, and while the boys were writing, would sit in the + window with his eyes shut, dreaming; whether he dreamed of the future or + recalled the past, everything seemed to him equally delightful, like a + fairy tale. In the senior classes they were reading aloud Gogol or + Pushkin’s prose works, and that made him sleepy; people, trees, fields, + horses, rose before his imagination, and he would say with a sigh, as + though fascinated by the author: + </p> + <p> + “How lovely!” + </p> + <p> + At the midday recess Masha used to send him lunch in a snow-white napkin, + and he would eat it slowly, with pauses, to prolong the enjoyment of it; + and Ippolit Ippolititch, whose lunch as a rule consisted of nothing but + bread, looked at him with respect and envy, and gave expression to some + familiar fact, such as: + </p> + <p> + “Men cannot live without food.” + </p> + <p> + After school Nikitin went straight to give his private lessons, and when + at last by six o’clock he got home, he felt excited and anxious, as though + he had been away for a year. He would run upstairs breathless, find Masha, + throw his arms round her, and kiss her and swear that he loved her, that + he could not live without her, declare that he had missed her fearfully, + and ask her in trepidation how she was and why she looked so depressed. + Then they would dine together. After dinner he would lie on the sofa in + his study and smoke, while she sat beside him and talked in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + His happiest days now were Sundays and holidays, when he was at home from + morning till evening. On those days he took part in the naïve but + extraordinarily pleasant life which reminded him of a pastoral idyl. He + was never weary of watching how his sensible and practical Masha was + arranging her nest, and anxious to show that he was of some use in the + house, he would do something useless— for instance, bring the chaise + out of the stable and look at it from every side. Masha had installed a + regular dairy with three cows, and in her cellar she had many jugs of milk + and pots of sour cream, and she kept it all for butter. Sometimes, by way + of a joke, Nikitin would ask her for a glass of milk, and she would be + quite upset because it was against her rules; but he would laugh and throw + his arms round her, saying: + </p> + <p> + “There, there; I was joking, my darling! I was joking!” + </p> + <p> + Or he would laugh at her strictness when, finding in the cupboard some + stale bit of cheese or sausage as hard as a stone, she would say + seriously: + </p> + <p> + “They will eat that in the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + He would observe that such a scrap was only fit for a mousetrap, and she + would reply warmly that men knew nothing about housekeeping, and that it + was just the same to the servants if you were to send down a hundredweight + of savouries to the kitchen. He would agree, and embrace her + enthusiastically. Everything that was just in what she said seemed to him + extraordinary and amazing; and what did not fit in with his convictions + seemed to him naïve and touching. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes he was in a philosophical mood, and he would begin to discuss + some abstract subject while she listened and looked at his face with + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “I am immensely happy with you, my joy,” he used to say, playing with her + fingers or plaiting and unplaiting her hair. “But I don’t look upon this + happiness of mine as something that has come to me by chance, as though it + had dropped from heaven. This happiness is a perfectly natural, + consistent, logical consequence. I believe that man is the creator of his + own happiness, and now I am enjoying just what I have myself created. Yes, + I speak without false modesty: I have created this happiness myself and I + have a right to it. You know my past. My unhappy childhood, without father + or mother; my depressing youth, poverty—all this was a struggle, all + this was the path by which I made my way to happiness. . . .” + </p> + <p> + In October the school sustained a heavy loss: Ippolit Ippolititch was + taken ill with erysipelas on the head and died. For two days before his + death he was unconscious and delirious, but even in his delirium he said + nothing that was not perfectly well known to every one. + </p> + <p> + “The Volga flows into the Caspian Sea. . . . Horses eat oats and hay. . . + .” + </p> + <p> + There were no lessons at the high school on the day of his funeral. His + colleagues and pupils were the coffin-bearers, and the school choir sang + all the way to the grave the anthem “Holy God.” Three priests, two + deacons, all his pupils and the staff of the boys’ high school, and the + bishop’s choir in their best kaftans, took part in the procession. And + passers-by who met the solemn procession, crossed themselves and said: + </p> + <p> + “God grant us all such a death.” + </p> + <p> + Returning home from the cemetery much moved, Nikitin got out his diary + from the table and wrote: + </p> + <p> + “We have just consigned to the tomb Ippolit Ippolititch Ryzhitsky. Peace + to your ashes, modest worker! Masha, Varya, and all the women at the + funeral, wept from genuine feeling, perhaps because they knew this + uninteresting, humble man had never been loved by a woman. I wanted to say + a warm word at my colleague’s grave, but I was warned that this might + displease the director, as he did not like our poor friend. I believe that + this is the first day since my marriage that my heart has been heavy.” + </p> + <p> + There was no other event of note in the scholastic year. + </p> + <p> + The winter was mild, with wet snow and no frost; on Epiphany Eve, for + instance, the wind howled all night as though it were autumn, and water + trickled off the roofs; and in the morning, at the ceremony of the + blessing of the water, the police allowed no one to go on the river, + because they said the ice was swelling up and looked dark. But in spite of + bad weather Nikitin’s life was as happy as in summer. And, indeed, he + acquired another source of pleasure; he learned to play <i>vint</i>. Only + one thing troubled him, moved him to anger, and seemed to prevent him from + being perfectly happy: the cats and dogs which formed part of his wife’s + dowry. The rooms, especially in the morning, always smelt like a + menagerie, and nothing could destroy the odour; the cats frequently fought + with the dogs. The spiteful beast Mushka was fed a dozen times a day; she + still refused to recognize Nikitin and growled at him: “Rrr . . . + nga-nga-nga!” + </p> + <p> + One night in Lent he was returning home from the club where he had been + playing cards. It was dark, raining, and muddy. Nikitin had an unpleasant + feeling at the bottom of his heart and could not account for it. He did + not know whether it was because he had lost twelve roubles at cards, or + whether because one of the players, when they were settling up, had said + that of course Nikitin had pots of money, with obvious reference to his + wife’s portion. He did not regret the twelve roubles, and there was + nothing offensive in what had been said; but, still, there was the + unpleasant feeling. He did not even feel a desire to go home. + </p> + <p> + “Foo, how horrid!” he said, standing still at a lamp-post. + </p> + <p> + It occurred to him that he did not regret the twelve roubles because he + got them for nothing. If he had been a working man he would have known the + value of every farthing, and would not have been so careless whether he + lost or won. And his good-fortune had all, he reflected, come to him by + chance, for nothing, and really was as superfluous for him as medicine for + the healthy. If, like the vast majority of people, he had been harassed by + anxiety for his daily bread, had been struggling for existence, if his + back and chest had ached from work, then supper, a warm snug home, and + domestic happiness, would have been the necessity, the compensation, the + crown of his life; as it was, all this had a strange, indefinite + significance for him. + </p> + <p> + “Foo, how horrid!” he repeated, knowing perfectly well that these + reflections were in themselves a bad sign. + </p> + <p> + When he got home Masha was in bed: she was breathing evenly and smiling, + and was evidently sleeping with great enjoyment. Near her the white cat + lay curled up, purring. While Nikitin lit the candle and lighted his + cigarette, Masha woke up and greedily drank a glass of water. + </p> + <p> + “I ate too many sweets,” she said, and laughed. “Have you been home?” she + asked after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin knew already that Captain Polyansky, on whom Varya had been + building great hopes of late, was being transferred to one of the western + provinces, and was already making his farewell visits in the town, and so + it was depressing at his father-in-law’s. + </p> + <p> + “Varya looked in this evening,” said Masha, sitting up. “She did not say + anything, but one could see from her face how wretched she is, poor + darling! I can’t bear Polyansky. He is fat and bloated, and when he walks + or dances his cheeks shake. . . . He is not a man I would choose. But, + still, I did think he was a decent person.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he is a decent person now,” said Nikitin. + </p> + <p> + “Then why has he treated Varya so badly?” + </p> + <p> + “Why badly?” asked Nikitin, beginning to feel irritation against the white + cat, who was stretching and arching its back. “As far as I know, he has + made no proposal and has given her no promises.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why was he so often at the house? If he didn’t mean to marry her, he + oughtn’t to have come.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin put out the candle and got into bed. But he felt disinclined to + lie down and to sleep. He felt as though his head were immense and empty + as a barn, and that new, peculiar thoughts were wandering about in it like + tall shadows. He thought that, apart from the soft light of the ikon lamp, + that beamed upon their quiet domestic happiness, that apart from this + little world in which he and this cat lived so peacefully and happily, + there was another world. . . . And he had a passionate, poignant longing + to be in that other world, to work himself at some factory or big + workshop, to address big audiences, to write, to publish, to raise a stir, + to exhaust himself, to suffer. . . . He wanted something that would + engross him till he forgot himself, ceased to care for the personal + happiness which yielded him only sensations so monotonous. And suddenly + there rose vividly before his imagination the figure of Shebaldin with his + clean-shaven face, saying to him with horror: “You haven’t even read + Lessing! You are quite behind the times! How you have gone to seed!” + </p> + <p> + Masha woke up and again drank some water. He glanced at her neck, at her + plump shoulders and throat, and remembered the word the brigadier-general + had used in church—“rose.” + </p> + <p> + “Rose,” he muttered, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + His laugh was answered by a sleepy growl from Mushka under the bed: “Rrr . + . . nga-nga-nga . . . !” + </p> + <p> + A heavy anger sank like a cold weight on his heart, and he felt tempted to + say something rude to Masha, and even to jump up and hit her; his heart + began throbbing. + </p> + <p> + “So then,” he asked, restraining himself, “since I went to your house, I + was bound in duty to marry you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. You know that very well.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s nice.” And a minute later he repeated: “That’s nice.” + </p> + <p> + To relieve the throbbing of his heart, and to avoid saying too much, + Nikitin went to his study and lay down on the sofa, without a pillow; then + he lay on the floor on the carpet. + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense it is!” he said to reassure himself. “You are a teacher, + you are working in the noblest of callings. . . . What need have you of + any other world? What rubbish!” + </p> + <p> + But almost immediately he told himself with conviction that he was not a + real teacher, but simply a government employé, as commonplace and mediocre + as the Czech who taught Greek. He had never had a vocation for teaching, + he knew nothing of the theory of teaching, and never had been interested + in the subject; he did not know how to treat children; he did not + understand the significance of what he taught, and perhaps did not teach + the right things. Poor Ippolit Ippolititch had been frankly stupid, and + all the boys, as well as his colleagues, knew what he was and what to + expect from him; but he, Nikitin, like the Czech, knew how to conceal his + stupidity and cleverly deceived every one by pretending that, thank God, + his teaching was a success. These new ideas frightened Nikitin; he + rejected them, called them stupid, and believed that all this was due to + his nerves, that he would laugh at himself. + </p> + <p> + And he did, in fact, by the morning laugh at himself and call himself an + old woman; but it was clear to him that his peace of mind was lost, + perhaps, for ever, and that in that little two-story house happiness was + henceforth impossible for him. He realized that the illusion had + evaporated, and that a new life of unrest and clear sight was beginning + which was incompatible with peace and personal happiness. + </p> + <p> + Next day, which was Sunday, he was at the school chapel, and there met his + colleagues and the director. It seemed to him that they were entirely + preoccupied with concealing their ignorance and discontent with life, and + he, too, to conceal his uneasiness, smiled affably and talked of + trivialities. Then he went to the station and saw the mail train come in + and go out, and it was agreeable to him to be alone and not to have to + talk to any one. + </p> + <p> + At home he found Varya and his father-in-law, who had come to dinner. + Varya’s eyes were red with crying, and she complained of a headache, while + Shelestov ate a great deal, saying that young men nowadays were + unreliable, and that there was very little gentlemanly feeling among them. + </p> + <p> + “It’s loutishness!” he said. “I shall tell him so to his face: ‘It’s + loutishness, sir,’ I shall say.” + </p> + <p> + Nikitin smiled affably and helped Masha to look after their guests, but + after dinner he went to his study and shut the door. + </p> + <p> + The March sun was shining brightly in at the windows and shedding its warm + rays on the table. It was only the twentieth of the month, but already the + cabmen were driving with wheels, and the starlings were noisy in the + garden. It was just the weather in which Masha would come in, put one arm + round his neck, tell him the horses were saddled or the chaise was at the + door, and ask him what she should put on to keep warm. Spring was + beginning as exquisitely as last spring, and it promised the same joys. . + . . But Nikitin was thinking that it would be nice to take a holiday and + go to Moscow, and stay at his old lodgings there. In the next room they + were drinking coffee and talking of Captain Polyansky, while he tried not + to listen and wrote in his diary: “Where am I, my God? I am surrounded by + vulgarity and vulgarity. Wearisome, insignificant people, pots of sour + cream, jugs of milk, cockroaches, stupid women. . . . There is nothing + more terrible, mortifying, and distressing than vulgarity. I must escape + from here, I must escape today, or I shall go out of my mind!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NOT WANTED + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ETWEEN six and + seven o’clock on a July evening, a crowd of summer visitors—mostly + fathers of families—burdened with parcels, portfolios, and ladies’ + hat-boxes, was trailing along from the little station of Helkovo, in the + direction of the summer villas. They all looked exhausted, hungry, and + ill-humoured, as though the sun were not shining and the grass were not + green for them. + </p> + <p> + Trudging along among the others was Pavel Matveyitch Zaikin, a member of + the Circuit Court, a tall, stooping man, in a cheap cotton dust-coat and + with a cockade on his faded cap. He was perspiring, red in the face, and + gloomy. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Do you come out to your holiday home every day?” said a summer visitor, + in ginger-coloured trousers, addressing him. + </p> + <p> + “No, not every day,” Zaikin answered sullenly. “My wife and son are + staying here all the while, and I come down two or three times a week. I + haven’t time to come every day; besides, it is expensive.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re right there; it is expensive,” sighed he of the ginger trousers. + “In town you can’t walk to the station, you have to take a cab; and then, + the ticket costs forty-two kopecks; you buy a paper for the journey; one + is tempted to drink a glass of vodka. It’s all petty expenditure not worth + considering, but, mind you, in the course of the summer it will run up to + some two hundred roubles. Of course, to be in the lap of Nature is worth + any money—I don’t dispute it . . . idyllic and all the rest of it; + but of course, with the salary an official gets, as you know yourself, + every farthing has to be considered. If you waste a halfpenny you lie + awake all night. . . . Yes. . . I receive, my dear sir—I haven’t the + honour of knowing your name—I receive a salary of very nearly two + thousand roubles a year. I am a civil councillor, I smoke second-rate + tobacco, and I haven’t a rouble to spare to buy Vichy water, prescribed me + by the doctor for gall-stones.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s altogether abominable,” said Zaikin after a brief silence. “I + maintain, sir, that summer holidays are the invention of the devil and of + woman. The devil was actuated in the present instance by malice, woman by + excessive frivolity. Mercy on us, it is not life at all; it is hard + labour, it is hell! It’s hot and stifling, you can hardly breathe, and you + wander about like a lost soul and can find no refuge. In town there is no + furniture, no servants. . . everything has been carried off to the villa: + you eat what you can get; you go without your tea because there is no one + to heat the samovar; you can’t wash yourself; and when you come down here + into this ‘lap of Nature’ you have to walk, if you please, through the + dust and heat. . . . Phew! Are you married?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. . . three children,” sighs Ginger Trousers. + </p> + <p> + “It’s abominable altogether. . . . It’s a wonder we are still alive.” + </p> + <p> + At last the summer visitors reached their destination. Zaikin said + good-bye to Ginger Trousers and went into his villa. He found a death-like + silence in the house. He could hear nothing but the buzzing of the gnats, + and the prayer for help of a fly destined for the dinner of a spider. The + windows were hung with muslin curtains, through which the faded flowers of + the geraniums showed red. On the unpainted wooden walls near the + oleographs flies were slumbering. There was not a soul in the passage, the + kitchen, or the dining-room. In the room which was called indifferently + the parlour or the drawing-room, Zaikin found his son Petya, a little boy + of six. Petya was sitting at the table, and breathing loudly with his + lower lip stuck out, was engaged in cutting out the figure of a knave of + diamonds from a card. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s you, father!” he said, without turning round. “Good-evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening. . . . And where is mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother? She is gone with Olga Kirillovna to a rehearsal of the play. The + day after tomorrow they will have a performance. And they will take me, + too. . . . And will you go?” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . . When is she coming back?” + </p> + <p> + “She said she would be back in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is Natalya?” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma took Natalya with her to help her dress for the performance, and + Akulina has gone to the wood to get mushrooms. Father, why is it that when + gnats bite you their stomachs get red?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. . . . Because they suck blood. So there is no one in the + house, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No one; I am all alone in the house.” + </p> + <p> + Zaikin sat down in an easy-chair, and for a moment gazed blankly at the + window. + </p> + <p> + “Who is going to get our dinner?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “They haven’t cooked any dinner today, father. Mamma thought you were not + coming today, and did not order any dinner. She is going to have dinner + with Olga Kirillovna at the rehearsal.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you very much; and you, what have you to eat?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve had some milk. They bought me six kopecks’ worth of milk. And, + father, why do gnats suck blood?” + </p> + <p> + Zaikin suddenly felt as though something heavy were rolling down on his + liver and beginning to gnaw it. He felt so vexed, so aggrieved, and so + bitter, that he was choking and tremulous; he wanted to jump up, to bang + something on the floor, and to burst into loud abuse; but then he + remembered that his doctor had absolutely forbidden him all excitement, so + he got up, and making an effort to control himself, began whistling a tune + from “Les Huguenots.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, can you act in plays?” he heard Petya’s voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t worry me with stupid questions!” said Zaikin, getting angry. + “He sticks to one like a leaf in the bath! Here you are, six years old, + and just as silly as you were three years ago. . . . Stupid, neglected + child! Why are you spoiling those cards, for instance? How dare you spoil + them?” + </p> + <p> + “These cards aren’t yours,” said Petya, turning round. “Natalya gave them + me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are telling fibs, you are telling fibs, you horrid boy!” said Zaikin, + growing more and more irritated. “You are always telling fibs! You want a + whipping, you horrid little pig! I will pull your ears!” + </p> + <p> + Petya leapt up, and craning his neck, stared fixedly at his father’s red + and wrathful face. His big eyes first began blinking, then were dimmed + with moisture, and the boy’s face began working. + </p> + <p> + “But why are you scolding?” squealed Petya. “Why do you attack me, you + stupid? I am not interfering with anybody; I am not naughty; I do what I + am told, and yet . . . you are cross! Why are you scolding me?” + </p> + <p> + The boy spoke with conviction, and wept so bitterly that Zaikin felt + conscience-stricken. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, really, why am I falling foul of him?” he thought. “Come, come,” he + said, touching the boy on the shoulder. “I am sorry, Petya . . . forgive + me. You are my good boy, my nice boy, I love you.” + </p> + <p> + Petya wiped his eyes with his sleeve, sat down, with a sigh, in the same + place and began cutting out the queen. Zaikin went off to his own room. He + stretched himself on the sofa, and putting his hands behind his head, sank + into thought. The boy’s tears had softened his anger, and by degrees the + oppression on his liver grew less. He felt nothing but exhaustion and + hunger. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” he heard on the other side of the door, “shall I show you my + collection of insects?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, show me.” + </p> + <p> + Petya came into the study and handed his father a long green box. Before + raising it to his ear Zaikin could hear a despairing buzz and the + scratching of claws on the sides of the box. Opening the lid, he saw a + number of butterflies, beetles, grasshoppers, and flies fastened to the + bottom of the box with pins. All except two or three butterflies were + still alive and moving. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the grasshopper is still alive!” said Petya in surprise. “I caught + him yesterday morning, and he is still alive!” + </p> + <p> + “Who taught you to pin them in this way?” + </p> + <p> + “Olga Kirillovna.” + </p> + <p> + “Olga Kirillovna ought to be pinned down like that herself!” said Zaikin + with repulsion. “Take them away! It’s shameful to torture animals.” + </p> + <p> + “My God! How horribly he is being brought up!” he thought, as Petya went + out. + </p> + <p> + Pavel Matveyitch forgot his exhaustion and hunger, and thought of nothing + but his boy’s future. Meanwhile, outside the light was gradually fading. . + . . He could hear the summer visitors trooping back from the evening + bathe. Some one was stopping near the open dining-room window and + shouting: “Do you want any mushrooms?” And getting no answer, shuffled on + with bare feet. . . . But at last, when the dusk was so thick that the + outlines of the geraniums behind the muslin curtain were lost, and whiffs + of the freshness of evening were coming in at the window, the door of the + passage was thrown open noisily, and there came a sound of rapid + footsteps, talk, and laughter. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Mamma!” shrieked Petya. + </p> + <p> + Zaikin peeped out of his study and saw his wife, Nadyezhda Stepanovna, + healthy and rosy as ever; with her he saw Olga Kirillovna, a spare woman + with fair hair and heavy freckles, and two unknown men: one a lanky young + man with curly red hair and a big Adam’s apple; the other, a short stubby + man with a shaven face like an actor’s and a bluish crooked chin. + </p> + <p> + “Natalya, set the samovar,” cried Nadyezhda Stepanovna, with a loud rustle + of her skirts. “I hear Pavel Matveyitch is come. Pavel, where are you? + Good-evening, Pavel!” she said, running into the study breathlessly. “So + you’ve come. I am so glad. . . . Two of our amateurs have come with me. . + . . Come, I’ll introduce you. . . . Here, the taller one is Koromyslov . . + . he sings splendidly; and the other, the little one . . . is called + Smerkalov: he is a real actor . . . he recites magnificently. Oh, how + tired I am! We have just had a rehearsal. . . . It goes splendidly. We are + acting ‘The Lodger with the Trombone’ and ‘Waiting for Him.’ . . . The + performance is the day after tomorrow. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you bring them?” asked Zaikin. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t help it, Poppet; after tea we must rehearse our parts and sing + something. . . . I am to sing a duet with Koromyslov. . . . Oh, yes, I was + almost forgetting! Darling, send Natalya to get some sardines, vodka, + cheese, and something else. They will most likely stay to supper. . . . + Oh, how tired I am!” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! I’ve no money.” + </p> + <p> + “You must, Poppet! It would be awkward! Don’t make me blush.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Natalya was sent for vodka and savouries; Zaikin, after + drinking tea and eating a whole French loaf, went to his bedroom and lay + down on the bed, while Nadyezhda Stepanovna and her visitors, with much + noise and laughter, set to work to rehearse their parts. For a long time + Pavel Matveyitch heard Koromyslov’s nasal reciting and Smerkalov’s + theatrical exclamations. . . . The rehearsal was followed by a long + conversation, interrupted by the shrill laughter of Olga Kirillovna. + Smerkalov, as a real actor, explained the parts with aplomb and heat. . . + . + </p> + <p> + Then followed the duet, and after the duet there was the clatter of + crockery. . . . Through his drowsiness Zaikin heard them persuading + Smerkalov to read “The Woman who was a Sinner,” and heard him, after + affecting to refuse, begin to recite. He hissed, beat himself on the + breast, wept, laughed in a husky bass. . . . Zaikin scowled and hid his + head under the quilt. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a long way for you to go, and it’s dark,” he heard Nadyezhda + Stepanovna’s voice an hour later. “Why shouldn’t you stay the night here? + Koromyslov can sleep here in the drawing-room on the sofa, and you, + Smerkalov, in Petya’s bed. . . . I can put Petya in my husband’s study. . + . . Do stay, really!” + </p> + <p> + At last when the clock was striking two, all was hushed, the bedroom door + opened, and Nadyezhda Stepanovna appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Pavel, are you asleep?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “No; why?” + </p> + <p> + “Go into your study, darling, and lie on the sofa. I am going to put Olga + Kirillovna here, in your bed. Do go, dear! I would put her to sleep in the + study, but she is afraid to sleep alone. . . . Do get up!” + </p> + <p> + Zaikin got up, threw on his dressing-gown, and taking his pillow, crept + wearily to the study. . . . Feeling his way to his sofa, he lighted a + match, and saw Petya lying on the sofa. The boy was not asleep, and, + looking at the match with wide-open eyes: + </p> + <p> + “Father, why is it gnats don’t go to sleep at night?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because . . . because . . . you and I are not wanted. . . . We have + nowhere to sleep even.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, and why is it Olga Kirillovna has freckles on her face?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shut up! I am tired of you.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s thought, Zaikin dressed and went out into the street for + a breath of air. . . . He looked at the grey morning sky, at the + motionless clouds, heard the lazy call of the drowsy corncrake, and began + dreaming of the next day, when he would go to town, and coming back from + the court would tumble into bed. . . . Suddenly the figure of a man + appeared round the corner. + </p> + <p> + “A watchman, no doubt,” thought Zaikin. But going nearer and looking more + closely he recognized in the figure the summer visitor in the ginger + trousers. + </p> + <p> + “You’re not asleep?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, I can’t sleep,” sighed Ginger Trousers. “I am enjoying Nature . . . . + A welcome visitor, my wife’s mother, arrived by the night train, you know. + She brought with her our nieces . . . splendid girls! I was delighted to + see them, although . . . it’s very damp! And you, too, are enjoying + Nature?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” grunted Zaikin, “I am enjoying it, too. . . . Do you know whether + there is any sort of tavern or restaurant in the neighbourhood?” + </p> + <p> + Ginger Trousers raised his eyes to heaven and meditated profoundly. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TYPHUS + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> YOUNG lieutenant + called Klimov was travelling from Petersburg to Moscow in a smoking + carriage of the mail train. Opposite him was sitting an elderly man with a + shaven face like a sea captain’s, by all appearances a well-to-do Finn or + Swede. He pulled at his pipe the whole journey and kept talking about the + same subject: + </p> + <p> + “Ha, you are an officer! I have a brother an officer too, only he is a + naval officer. . . . He is a naval officer, and he is stationed at + Kronstadt. Why are you going to Moscow?” + </p> + <p> + “I am serving there.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! And are you a family man?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I live with my sister and aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “My brother’s an officer, only he is a naval officer; he has a wife and + three children. Ha!” + </p> + <p> + The Finn seemed continually surprised at something, and gave a broad + idiotic grin when he exclaimed “Ha!” and continually puffed at his + stinking pipe. Klimov, who for some reason did not feel well, and found it + burdensome to answer questions, hated him with all his heart. He dreamed + of how nice it would be to snatch the wheezing pipe out of his hand and + fling it under the seat, and drive the Finn himself into another + compartment. + </p> + <p> + “Detestable people these Finns and . . . Greeks,” he thought. “Absolutely + superfluous, useless, detestable people. They simply fill up space on the + earthly globe. What are they for?” + </p> + <p> + And the thought of Finns and Greeks produced a feeling akin to sickness + all over his body. For the sake of comparison he tried to think of the + French, of the Italians, but his efforts to think of these people evoked + in his mind, for some reason, nothing but images of organ-grinders, naked + women, and the foreign oleographs which hung over the chest of drawers at + home, at his aunt’s. + </p> + <p> + Altogether the officer felt in an abnormal state. He could not arrange his + arms and legs comfortably on the seat, though he had the whole seat to + himself. His mouth felt dry and sticky; there was a heavy fog in his + brain; his thoughts seemed to be straying, not only within his head, but + outside his skull, among the seats and the people that were shrouded in + the darkness of night. Through the mist in his brain, as through a dream, + he heard the murmur of voices, the rumble of wheels, the slamming of + doors. The sounds of the bells, the whistles, the guards, the running to + and fro of passengers on the platforms, seemed more frequent than usual. + The time flew by rapidly, imperceptibly, and so it seemed as though the + train were stopping at stations every minute, and metallic voices crying + continually: + </p> + <p> + “Is the mail ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” was repeatedly coming from outside. + </p> + <p> + It seemed as though the man in charge of the heating came in too often to + look at the thermometer, that the noise of trains going in the opposite + direction and the rumble of the wheels over the bridges was incessant. The + noise, the whistles, the Finn, the tobacco smoke—all this mingling + with the menace and flickering of the misty images in his brain, the shape + and character of which a man in health can never recall, weighed upon + Klimov like an unbearable nightmare. In horrible misery he lifted his + heavy head, looked at the lamp in the rays of which shadows and misty + blurs seemed to be dancing. He wanted to ask for water, but his parched + tongue would hardly move, and he scarcely had strength to answer the + Finn’s questions. He tried to lie down more comfortably and go to sleep, + but he could not succeed. The Finn several times fell asleep, woke up + again, lighted his pipe, addressed him with his “Ha!” and went to sleep + again; and still the lieutenant’s legs could not get into a comfortable + position, and still the menacing images stood facing him. + </p> + <p> + At Spirovo he went out into the station for a drink of water. He saw + people sitting at the table and hurriedly eating. + </p> + <p> + “And how can they eat!” he thought, trying not to sniff the air, that + smelt of roast meat, and not to look at the munching mouths —they + both seemed to him sickeningly disgusting. + </p> + <p> + A good-looking lady was conversing loudly with a military man in a red + cap, and showing magnificent white teeth as she smiled; and the smile, and + the teeth, and the lady herself made on Klimov the same revolting + impression as the ham and the rissoles. He could not understand how it was + the military man in the red cap was not ill at ease, sitting beside her + and looking at her healthy, smiling face. + </p> + <p> + When after drinking some water he went back to his carriage, the Finn was + sitting smoking; his pipe was wheezing and squelching like a golosh with + holes in it in wet weather. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” he said, surprised; “what station is this?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” answered Klimov, lying down and shutting his mouth that he + might not breathe the acrid tobacco smoke. + </p> + <p> + “And when shall we reach Tver?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Excuse me, I . . . I can’t answer. I am ill. I caught cold + today.” + </p> + <p> + The Finn knocked his pipe against the window-frame and began talking of + his brother, the naval officer. Klimov no longer heard him; he was + thinking miserably of his soft, comfortable bed, of a bottle of cold + water, of his sister Katya, who was so good at making one comfortable, + soothing, giving one water. He even smiled when the vision of his orderly + Pavel, taking off his heavy stifling boots and putting water on the little + table, flitted through his imagination. He fancied that if he could only + get into his bed, have a drink of water, his nightmare would give place to + sound healthy sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Is the mail ready?” a hollow voice reached him from the distance. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered a bass voice almost at the window. + </p> + <p> + It was already the second or third station from Spirovo. + </p> + <p> + The time was flying rapidly in leaps and bounds, and it seemed as though + the bells, whistles, and stoppings would never end. In despair Klimov + buried his face in the corner of the seat, clutched his head in his hands, + and began again thinking of his sister Katya and his orderly Pavel, but + his sister and his orderly were mixed up with the misty images in his + brain, whirled round, and disappeared. His burning breath, reflected from + the back of the seat, seemed to scald his face; his legs were + uncomfortable; there was a draught from the window on his back; but, + however wretched he was, he did not want to change his position. . . . A + heavy nightmarish lethargy gradually gained possession of him and fettered + his limbs. + </p> + <p> + When he brought himself to raise his head, it was already light in the + carriage. The passengers were putting on their fur coats and moving about. + The train was stopping. Porters in white aprons and with discs on their + breasts were bustling among the passengers and snatching up their boxes. + Klimov put on his great-coat, mechanically followed the other passengers + out of the carriage, and it seemed to him that not he, but some one else + was moving, and he felt that his fever, his thirst, and the menacing + images which had not let him sleep all night, came out of the carriage + with him. Mechanically he took his luggage and engaged a sledge-driver. + The man asked him for a rouble and a quarter to drive to Povarsky Street, + but he did not haggle, and without protest got submissively into the + sledge. He still understood the difference of numbers, but money had + ceased to have any value to him. + </p> + <p> + At home Klimov was met by his aunt and his sister Katya, a girl of + eighteen. When Katya greeted him she had a pencil and exercise book in her + hand, and he remembered that she was preparing for an examination as a + teacher. Gasping with fever, he walked aimlessly through all the rooms + without answering their questions or greetings, and when he reached his + bed he sank down on the pillow. The Finn, the red cap, the lady with the + white teeth, the smell of roast meat, the flickering blurs, filled his + consciousness, and by now he did not know where he was and did not hear + the agitated voices. + </p> + <p> + When he recovered consciousness he found himself in bed, undressed, saw a + bottle of water and Pavel, but it was no cooler, nor softer, nor more + comfortable for that. His arms and legs, as before, refused to lie + comfortably; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he heard the + wheezing of the Finn’s pipe. . . . A stalwart, black-bearded doctor was + busy doing something beside the bed, brushing against Pavel with his broad + back. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, it’s all right, young man,” he muttered. “Excellent, + excellent . . . goo-od, goo-od . . . !” + </p> + <p> + The doctor called Klimov “young man,” said “goo-od” instead of “good” and + “so-o” instead of “so.” + </p> + <p> + “So-o . . . so-o . . . so-o,” he murmured. “Goo-od, goo-od . . . ! + Excellent, young man. You mustn’t lose heart!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor’s rapid, careless talk, his well-fed countenance, and + condescending “young man,” irritated Klimov. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you call me ‘young man’?” he moaned. “What familiarity! Damn it + all!” + </p> + <p> + And he was frightened by his own voice. The voice was so dried up, so weak + and peevish, that he would not have known it. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent, excellent!” muttered the doctor, not in the least offended. . + . . “You mustn’t get angry, so-o, so-o, so-s. . . .” + </p> + <p> + And the time flew by at home with the same startling swiftness as in the + railway carriage. The daylight was continually being replaced by the dusk + of evening. The doctor seemed never to leave his bedside, and he heard at + every moment his “so-o, so-o, so-o.” A continual succession of people was + incessantly crossing the bedroom. Among them were: Pavel, the Finn, + Captain Yaroshevitch, Lance-Corporal Maximenko, the red cap, the lady with + the white teeth, the doctor. They were all talking and waving their arms, + smoking and eating. Once by daylight Klimov saw the chaplain of the + regiment, Father Alexandr, who was standing before the bed, wearing a + stole and with a prayer-book in his hand. He was muttering something with + a grave face such as Klimov had never seen in him before. The lieutenant + remembered that Father Alexandr used in a friendly way to call all the + Catholic officers “Poles,” and wanting to amuse him, he cried: + </p> + <p> + “Father, Yaroshevitch the Pole has climbed up a pole!” + </p> + <p> + But Father Alexandr, a light-hearted man who loved a joke, did not smile, + but became graver than ever, and made the sign of the cross over Klimov. + At night-time by turn two shadows came noiselessly in and out; they were + his aunt and sister. His sister’s shadow knelt down and prayed; she bowed + down to the ikon, and her grey shadow on the wall bowed down too, so that + two shadows were praying. The whole time there was a smell of roast meat + and the Finn’s pipe, but once Klimov smelt the strong smell of incense. He + felt so sick he could not lie still, and began shouting: + </p> + <p> + “The incense! Take away the incense!” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. He could only hear the subdued singing of the priest + somewhere and some one running upstairs. + </p> + <p> + When Klimov came to himself there was not a soul in his bedroom. The + morning sun was streaming in at the window through the lower blind, and a + quivering sunbeam, bright and keen as the sword’s edge, was flashing on + the glass bottle. He heard the rattle of wheels— so there was no + snow now in the street. The lieutenant looked at the ray, at the familiar + furniture, at the door, and the first thing he did was to laugh. His chest + and stomach heaved with delicious, happy, tickling laughter. His whole + body from head to foot was overcome by a sensation of infinite happiness + and joy in life, such as the first man must have felt when he was created + and first saw the world. Klimov felt a passionate desire for movement, + people, talk. His body lay a motionless block; only his hands stirred, but + that he hardly noticed, and his whole attention was concentrated on + trifles. He rejoiced in his breathing, in his laughter, rejoiced in the + existence of the water-bottle, the ceiling, the sunshine, the tape on the + curtains. God’s world, even in the narrow space of his bedroom, seemed + beautiful, varied, grand. When the doctor made his appearance, the + lieutenant was thinking what a delicious thing medicine was, how charming + and pleasant the doctor was, and how nice and interesting people were in + general. + </p> + <p> + “So-o, so, so. . . Excellent, excellent! . . . Now we are well again. . . + . Goo-od, goo-od!” the doctor pattered. + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant listened and laughed joyously; he remembered the Finn, the + lady with the white teeth, the train, and he longed to smoke, to eat. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor,” he said, “tell them to give me a crust of rye bread and salt, + and . . . and sardines.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor refused; Pavel did not obey the order, and did not go for the + bread. The lieutenant could not bear this and began crying like a naughty + child. + </p> + <p> + “Baby!” laughed the doctor. “Mammy, bye-bye!” + </p> + <p> + Klimov laughed, too, and when the doctor went away he fell into a sound + sleep. He woke up with the same joyfulness and sensation of happiness. His + aunt was sitting near the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, aunt,” he said joyfully. “What has been the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Spotted typhus.” + </p> + <p> + “Really. But now I am well, quite well! Where is Katya?” + </p> + <p> + “She is not at home. I suppose she has gone somewhere from her + examination.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady said this and looked at her stocking; her lips began + quivering, she turned away, and suddenly broke into sobs. Forgetting the + doctor’s prohibition in her despair, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Katya, Katya! Our angel is gone! Is gone!” + </p> + <p> + She dropped her stocking and bent down to it, and as she did so her cap + fell off her head. Looking at her grey head and understanding nothing, + Klimov was frightened for Katya, and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Where is she, aunt?” + </p> + <p> + The old woman, who had forgotten Klimov and was thinking only of her + sorrow, said: + </p> + <p> + “She caught typhus from you, and is dead. She was buried the day before + yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + This terrible, unexpected news was fully grasped by Klimov’s + consciousness; but terrible and startling as it was, it could not overcome + the animal joy that filled the convalescent. He cried and laughed, and + soon began scolding because they would not let him eat. + </p> + <p> + Only a week later when, leaning on Pavel, he went in his dressing-gown to + the window, looked at the overcast spring sky and listened to the + unpleasant clang of the old iron rails which were being carted by, his + heart ached, he burst into tears, and leaned his forehead against the + window-frame. + </p> + <p> + “How miserable I am!” he muttered. “My God, how miserable!” + </p> + <p> + And joy gave way to the boredom of everyday life and the feeling of his + irrevocable loss. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A MISFORTUNE + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OFYA PETROVNA, the + wife of Lubyantsev the notary, a handsome young woman of five-and-twenty, + was walking slowly along a track that had been cleared in the wood, with + Ilyin, a lawyer who was spending the summer in the neighbourhood. It was + five o’clock in the evening. Feathery-white masses of cloud stood + overhead; patches of bright blue sky peeped out between them. The clouds + stood motionless, as though they had caught in the tops of the tall old + pine-trees. It was still and sultry. + </p> + <p> + Farther on, the track was crossed by a low railway embankment on which a + sentinel with a gun was for some reason pacing up and down. Just beyond + the embankment there was a large white church with six domes and a rusty + roof. + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect to meet you here,” said Sofya Petrovna, looking at the + ground and prodding at the last year’s leaves with the tip of her parasol, + “and now I am glad we have met. I want to speak to you seriously and once + for all. I beg you, Ivan Mihalovitch, if you really love and respect me, + please make an end of this pursuit of me! You follow me about like a + shadow, you are continually looking at me not in a nice way, making love + to me, writing me strange letters, and . . . and I don’t know where it’s + all going to end! Why, what can come of it?” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin said nothing. Sofya Petrovna walked on a few steps and continued: + </p> + <p> + “And this complete transformation in you all came about in the course of + two or three weeks, after five years’ friendship. I don’t know you, Ivan + Mihalovitch!” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna stole a glance at her companion. Screwing up his eyes, he + was looking intently at the fluffy clouds. His face looked angry, + ill-humoured, and preoccupied, like that of a man in pain forced to listen + to nonsense. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder you don’t see it yourself,” Madame Lubyantsev went on, shrugging + her shoulders. “You ought to realize that it’s not a very nice part you + are playing. I am married; I love and respect my husband. . . . I have a + daughter . . . . Can you think all that means nothing? Besides, as an old + friend you know my attitude to family life and my views as to the sanctity + of marriage.” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin cleared his throat angrily and heaved a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Sanctity of marriage . . .” he muttered. “Oh, Lord!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. . . . I love my husband, I respect him; and in any case I value + the peace of my home. I would rather let myself be killed than be a cause + of unhappiness to Andrey and his daughter. . . . And I beg you, Ivan + Mihalovitch, for God’s sake, leave me in peace! Let us be as good, true + friends as we used to be, and give up these sighs and groans, which really + don’t suit you. It’s settled and over! Not a word more about it. Let us + talk of something else.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna again stole a glance at Ilyin’s face. Ilyin was looking up; + he was pale, and was angrily biting his quivering lips. She could not + understand why he was angry and why he was indignant, but his pallor + touched her. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be angry; let us be friends,” she said affectionately. “Agreed? + Here’s my hand.” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin took her plump little hand in both of his, squeezed it, and slowly + raised it to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a schoolboy,” he muttered. “I am not in the least tempted by + friendship with the woman I love.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, enough! It’s settled and done with. We have reached the seat; let + us sit down.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna’s soul was filled with a sweet sense of relief: the most + difficult and delicate thing had been said, the painful question was + settled and done with. Now she could breathe freely and look Ilyin + straight in the face. She looked at him, and the egoistic feeling of the + superiority of the woman over the man who loves her, agreeably flattered + her. It pleased her to see this huge, strong man, with his manly, angry + face and his big black beard—clever, cultivated, and, people said, + talented—sit down obediently beside her and bow his head dejectedly. + For two or three minutes they sat without speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is settled or done with,” began Ilyin. “You repeat copy-book + maxims to me. ‘I love and respect my husband . . . the sanctity of + marriage. . . .’ I know all that without your help, and I could tell you + more, too. I tell you truthfully and honestly that I consider the way I am + behaving as criminal and immoral. What more can one say than that? But + what’s the good of saying what everybody knows? Instead of feeding + nightingales with paltry words, you had much better tell me what I am to + do.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve told you already—go away.” + </p> + <p> + “As you know perfectly well, I have gone away five times, and every time I + turned back on the way. I can show you my through tickets —I’ve kept + them all. I have not will enough to run away from you! I am struggling. I + am struggling horribly; but what the devil am I good for if I have no + backbone, if I am weak, cowardly! I can’t struggle with Nature! Do you + understand? I cannot! I run away from here, and she holds on to me and + pulls me back. Contemptible, loathsome weakness!” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin flushed crimson, got up, and walked up and down by the seat. + </p> + <p> + “I feel as cross as a dog,” he muttered, clenching his fists. “I hate and + despise myself! My God! like some depraved schoolboy, I am making love to + another man’s wife, writing idiotic letters, degrading myself . . . ugh!” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin clutched at his head, grunted, and sat down. “And then your + insincerity!” he went on bitterly. “If you do dislike my disgusting + behaviour, why have you come here? What drew you here? In my letters I + only ask you for a direct, definite answer—yes or no; but instead of + a direct answer, you contrive every day these ‘chance’ meetings with me + and regale me with copy-book maxims!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Lubyantsev was frightened and flushed. She suddenly felt the + awkwardness which a decent woman feels when she is accidentally discovered + undressed. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to suspect I am playing with you,” she muttered. “I have always + given you a direct answer, and . . . only today I’ve begged you . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Ough! as though one begged in such cases! If you were to say straight out + ‘Get away,’ I should have been gone long ago; but you’ve never said that. + You’ve never once given me a direct answer. Strange indecision! Yes, + indeed; either you are playing with me, or else . . .” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin leaned his head on his fists without finishing. Sofya Petrovna began + going over in her own mind the way she had behaved from beginning to end. + She remembered that not only in her actions, but even in her secret + thoughts, she had always been opposed to Ilyin’s love-making; but yet she + felt there was a grain of truth in the lawyer’s words. But not knowing + exactly what the truth was, she could not find answers to make to Ilyin’s + complaint, however hard she thought. It was awkward to be silent, and, + shrugging her shoulders, she said: + </p> + <p> + So I am to blame, it appears.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t blame you for your insincerity,” sighed Ilyin. “I did not mean + that when I spoke of it. . . . Your insincerity is natural and in the + order of things. If people agreed together and suddenly became sincere, + everything would go to the devil.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna was in no mood for philosophical reflections, but she was + glad of a chance to change the conversation, and asked: + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because only savage women and animals are sincere. Once civilization has + introduced a demand for such comforts as, for instance, feminine virtue, + sincerity is out of place. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Ilyin jabbed his stick angrily into the sand. Madame Lubyantsev listened + to him and liked his conversation, though a great deal of it she did not + understand. What gratified her most was that she, an ordinary woman, was + talked to by a talented man on “intellectual” subjects; it afforded her + great pleasure, too, to watch the working of his mobile, young face, which + was still pale and angry. She failed to understand a great deal that he + said, but what was clear to her in his words was the attractive boldness + with which the modern man without hesitation or doubt decides great + questions and draws conclusive deductions. + </p> + <p> + She suddenly realized that she was admiring him, and was alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, but I don’t understand,” she said hurriedly. “What makes you + talk of insincerity? I repeat my request again: be my good, true friend; + let me alone! I beg you most earnestly!” + </p> + <p> + “Very good; I’ll try again,” sighed Ilyin. “Glad to do my best. . . . Only + I doubt whether anything will come of my efforts. Either I shall put a + bullet through my brains or take to drink in an idiotic way. I shall come + to a bad end! There’s a limit to everything— to struggles with + Nature, too. Tell me, how can one struggle against madness? If you drink + wine, how are you to struggle against intoxication? What am I to do if + your image has grown into my soul, and day and night stands persistently + before my eyes, like that pine there at this moment? Come, tell me, what + hard and difficult thing can I do to get free from this abominable, + miserable condition, in which all my thoughts, desires, and dreams are no + longer my own, but belong to some demon who has taken possession of me? I + love you, love you so much that I am completely thrown out of gear; I’ve + given up my work and all who are dear to me; I’ve forgotten my God! I’ve + never been in love like this in my life.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna, who had not expected such a turn to their conversation, + drew away from Ilyin and looked into his face in dismay. Tears came into + his eyes, his lips were quivering, and there was an imploring, hungry + expression in his face. + </p> + <p> + “I love you!” he muttered, bringing his eyes near her big, frightened + eyes. “You are so beautiful! I am in agony now, but I swear I would sit + here all my life, suffering and looking in your eyes. But . . . be silent, + I implore you!” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna, feeling utterly disconcerted, tried to think as quickly as + possible of something to say to stop him. “I’ll go away,” she decided, but + before she had time to make a movement to get up, Ilyin was on his knees + before her. . . . He was clasping her knees, gazing into her face and + speaking passionately, hotly, eloquently. In her terror and confusion she + did not hear his words; for some reason now, at this dangerous moment, + while her knees were being agreeably squeezed and felt as though they were + in a warm bath, she was trying, with a sort of angry spite, to interpret + her own sensations. She was angry that instead of brimming over with + protesting virtue, she was entirely overwhelmed with weakness, apathy, and + emptiness, like a drunken man utterly reckless; only at the bottom of her + soul a remote bit of herself was malignantly taunting her: “Why don’t you + go? Is this as it should be? Yes?” + </p> + <p> + Seeking for some explanation, she could not understand how it was she did + not pull away the hand to which Ilyin was clinging like a leech, and why, + like Ilyin, she hastily glanced to right and to left to see whether any + one was looking. The clouds and the pines stood motionless, looking at + them severely, like old ushers seeing mischief, but bribed not to tell the + school authorities. The sentry stood like a post on the embankment and + seemed to be looking at the seat. + </p> + <p> + “Let him look,” thought Sofya Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + “But . . . but listen,” she said at last, with despair in her voice. “What + can come of this? What will be the end of this?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, I don’t know,” he whispered, waving off the disagreeable + questions. + </p> + <p> + They heard the hoarse, discordant whistle of the train. This cold, + irrelevant sound from the everyday world of prose made Sofya Petrovna + rouse herself. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t stay . . . it’s time I was at home,” she said, getting up + quickly. “The train is coming in. . . Andrey is coming by it! He will want + his dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna turned towards the embankment with a burning face. The + engine slowly crawled by, then came the carriages. It was not the local + train, as she had supposed, but a goods train. The trucks filed by against + the background of the white church in a long string like the days of a + man’s life, and it seemed as though it would never end. + </p> + <p> + But at last the train passed, and the last carriage with the guard and a + light in it had disappeared behind the trees. Sofya Petrovna turned round + sharply, and without looking at Ilyin, walked rapidly back along the + track. She had regained her self-possession. Crimson with shame, + humiliated not by Ilyin—no, but by her own cowardice, by the + shamelessness with which she, a chaste and high-principled woman, had + allowed a man, not her husband, to hug her knees—she had only one + thought now: to get home as quickly as possible to her villa, to her + family. The lawyer could hardly keep pace with her. Turning from the + clearing into a narrow path, she turned round and glanced at him so + quickly that she saw nothing but the sand on his knees, and waved to him + to drop behind. + </p> + <p> + Reaching home, Sofya Petrovna stood in the middle of her room for five + minutes without moving, and looked first at the window and then at her + writing-table. + </p> + <p> + “You low creature!” she said, upbraiding herself. “You low creature!” + </p> + <p> + To spite herself, she recalled in precise detail, keeping nothing back—she + recalled that though all this time she had been opposed to Ilyin’s + lovemaking, something had impelled her to seek an interview with him; and + what was more, when he was at her feet she had enjoyed it enormously. She + recalled it all without sparing herself, and now, breathless with shame, + she would have liked to slap herself in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Andrey!” she said to herself, trying as she thought of her husband + to put into her face as tender an expression as she could. “Varya, my poor + little girl, doesn’t know what a mother she has! Forgive me, my dear ones! + I love you so much . . . so much!” + </p> + <p> + And anxious to prove to herself that she was still a good wife and mother, + and that corruption had not yet touched that “sanctity of marriage” of + which she had spoken to Ilyin, Sofya Petrovna ran to the kitchen and + abused the cook for not having yet laid the table for Andrey Ilyitch. She + tried to picture her husband’s hungry and exhausted appearance, + commiserated him aloud, and laid the table for him with her own hands, + which she had never done before. Then she found her daughter Varya, picked + her up in her arms and hugged her warmly; the child seemed to her cold and + heavy, but she was unwilling to acknowledge this to herself, and she began + explaining to the child how good, kind, and honourable her papa was. + </p> + <p> + But when Andrey Ilyitch arrived soon afterwards she hardly greeted him. + The rush of false feeling had already passed off without proving anything + to her, only irritating and exasperating her by its falsity. She was + sitting by the window, feeling miserable and cross. It is only by being in + trouble that people can understand how far from easy it is to be the + master of one’s feelings and thoughts. Sofya Petrovna said afterwards that + there was a tangle within her which it was as difficult to unravel as to + count a flock of sparrows rapidly flying by. From the fact that she was + not overjoyed to see her husband, that she did not like his manner at + dinner, she concluded all of a sudden that she was beginning to hate her + husband. + </p> + <p> + Andrey Ilyitch, languid with hunger and exhaustion, fell upon the sausage + while waiting for the soup to be brought in, and ate it greedily, munching + noisily and moving his temples. + </p> + <p> + “My goodness!” thought Sofya Petrovna. “I love and respect him, but . . . + why does he munch so repulsively?” + </p> + <p> + The disorder in her thoughts was no less than the disorder in her + feelings. Like all persons inexperienced in combating unpleasant ideas, + Madame Lubyantsev did her utmost not to think of her trouble, and the + harder she tried the more vividly Ilyin, the sand on his knees, the fluffy + clouds, the train, stood out in her imagination. + </p> + <p> + “And why did I go there this afternoon like a fool?” she thought, + tormenting herself. “And am I really so weak that I cannot depend upon + myself?” + </p> + <p> + Fear magnifies danger. By the time Andrey Ilyitch was finishing the last + course, she had firmly made up her mind to tell her husband everything and + to flee from danger! + </p> + <p> + “I’ve something serious to say to you, Andrey,” she began after dinner + while her husband was taking off his coat and boots to lie down for a nap. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us leave this place!” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . . Where shall we go? It’s too soon to go back to town.” + </p> + <p> + “No; for a tour or something of that sort. + </p> + <p> + “For a tour . . .” repeated the notary, stretching. “I dream of that + myself, but where are we to get the money, and to whom am I to leave the + office?” + </p> + <p> + And thinking a little he added: + </p> + <p> + “Of course, you must be bored. Go by yourself if you like.” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna agreed, but at once reflected that Ilyin would be delighted + with the opportunity, and would go with her in the same train, in the same + compartment. . . . She thought and looked at her husband, now satisfied + but still languid. For some reason her eyes rested on his feet—miniature, + almost feminine feet, clad in striped socks; there was a thread standing + out at the tip of each sock. + </p> + <p> + Behind the blind a bumble-bee was beating itself against the window-pane + and buzzing. Sofya Petrovna looked at the threads on the socks, listened + to the bee, and pictured how she would set off . . . . <i>vis-à -vis</i> + Ilyin would sit, day and night, never taking his eyes off her, wrathful at + his own weakness and pale with spiritual agony. He would call himself an + immoral schoolboy, would abuse her, tear his hair, but when darkness came + on and the passengers were asleep or got out at a station, he would seize + the opportunity to kneel before her and embrace her knees as he had at the + seat in the wood. . . . + </p> + <p> + She caught herself indulging in this day-dream. + </p> + <p> + “Listen. I won’t go alone,” she said. “You must come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Sofotchka!” sighed Lubyantsev. “One must be sensible and not + want the impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “You will come when you know all about it,” thought Sofya Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + Making up her mind to go at all costs, she felt that she was out of + danger. Little by little her ideas grew clearer; her spirits rose and she + allowed herself to think about it all, feeling that however much she + thought, however much she dreamed, she would go away. While her husband + was asleep, the evening gradually came on. She sat in the drawing-room and + played the piano. The greater liveliness out of doors, the sound of music, + but above all the thought that she was a sensible person, that she had + surmounted her difficulties, completely restored her spirits. Other women, + her appeased conscience told her, would probably have been carried off + their feet in her position, and would have lost their balance, while she + had almost died of shame, had been miserable, and was now running out of + the danger which perhaps did not exist! She was so touched by her own + virtue and determination that she even looked at herself two or three + times in the looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + When it got dark, visitors arrived. The men sat down in the dining-room to + play cards; the ladies remained in the drawing-room and the verandah. The + last to arrive was Ilyin. He was gloomy, morose, and looked ill. He sat + down in the corner of the sofa and did not move the whole evening. Usually + good-humoured and talkative, this time he remained silent, frowned, and + rubbed his eyebrows. When he had to answer some question, he gave a forced + smile with his upper lip only, and answered jerkily and irritably. Four or + five times he made some jest, but his jests sounded harsh and cutting. It + seemed to Sofya Petrovna that he was on the verge of hysterics. Only now, + sitting at the piano, she recognized fully for the first time that this + unhappy man was in deadly earnest, that his soul was sick, and that he + could find no rest. For her sake he was wasting the best days of his youth + and his career, spending the last of his money on a summer villa, + abandoning his mother and sisters, and, worst of all, wearing himself out + in an agonizing struggle with himself. From mere common humanity he ought + to be treated seriously. + </p> + <p> + She recognized all this clearly till it made her heart ache, and if at + that moment she had gone up to him and said to him, “No,” there would have + been a force in her voice hard to disobey. But she did not go up to him + and did not speak—indeed, never thought of doing so. The pettiness + and egoism of youth had never been more patent in her than that evening. + She realized that Ilyin was unhappy, and that he was sitting on the sofa + as though he were on hot coals; she felt sorry for him, but at the same + time the presence of a man who loved her to distraction, filled her soul + with triumph and a sense of her own power. She felt her youth, her beauty, + and her unassailable virtue, and, since she had decided to go away, gave + herself full licence for that evening. She flirted, laughed incessantly, + sang with peculiar feeling and gusto. Everything delighted and amused her. + She was amused at the memory of what had happened at the seat in the wood, + of the sentinel who had looked on. She was amused by her guests, by + Ilyin’s cutting jests, by the pin in his cravat, which she had never + noticed before. There was a red snake with diamond eyes on the pin; this + snake struck her as so amusing that she could have kissed it on the spot. + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna sang nervously, with defiant recklessness as though half + intoxicated, and she chose sad, mournful songs which dealt with wasted + hopes, the past, old age, as though in mockery of another’s grief. “‘And + old age comes nearer and nearer’ . . .” she sang. And what was old age to + her? + </p> + <p> + “It seems as though there is something going wrong with me,” she thought + from time to time through her laughter and singing. + </p> + <p> + The party broke up at twelve o’clock. Ilyin was the last to leave. Sofya + Petrovna was still reckless enough to accompany him to the bottom step of + the verandah. She wanted to tell him that she was going away with her + husband, and to watch the effect this news would produce on him. + </p> + <p> + The moon was hidden behind the clouds, but it was light enough for Sofya + Petrovna to see how the wind played with the skirts of his overcoat and + with the awning of the verandah. She could see, too, how white Ilyin was, + and how he twisted his upper lip in the effort to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Sonia, Sonitchka . . . my darling woman!” he muttered, preventing her + from speaking. “My dear! my sweet!” + </p> + <p> + In a rush of tenderness, with tears in his voice, he showered caressing + words upon her, that grew tenderer and tenderer, and even called her + “thou,” as though she were his wife or mistress. Quite unexpectedly he put + one arm round her waist and with the other hand took hold of her elbow. + </p> + <p> + “My precious! my delight!” he whispered, kissing the nape of her neck; “be + sincere; come to me at once!” + </p> + <p> + She slipped out of his arms and raised her head to give vent to her + indignation and anger, but the indignation did not come off, and all her + vaunted virtue and chastity was only sufficient to enable her to utter the + phrase used by all ordinary women on such occasions: + </p> + <p> + “You must be mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, let us go,” Ilyin continued. “I felt just now, as well as at the + seat in the wood, that you are as helpless as I am, Sonia . . . . You are + in the same plight! You love me and are fruitlessly trying to appease your + conscience. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that she was moving away, he caught her by her lace cuff and said + rapidly: + </p> + <p> + “If not today, then tomorrow you will have to give in! Why, then, this + waste of time? My precious, darling Sonia, the sentence is passed; why put + off the execution? Why deceive yourself?” + </p> + <p> + Sofya Petrovna tore herself from him and darted in at the door. Returning + to the drawing-room, she mechanically shut the piano, looked for a long + time at the music-stand, and sat down. She could not stand up nor think. + All that was left of her excitement and recklessness was a fearful + weakness, apathy, and dreariness. Her conscience whispered to her that she + had behaved badly, foolishly, that evening, like some madcap girl—that + she had just been embraced on the verandah, and still had an uneasy + feeling in her waist and her elbow. There was not a soul in the + drawing-room; there was only one candle burning. Madame Lubyantsev sat on + the round stool before the piano, motionless, as though expecting + something. And as though taking advantage of the darkness and her extreme + lassitude, an oppressive, overpowering desire began to assail her. Like a + boa-constrictor it gripped her limbs and her soul, and grew stronger every + second, and no longer menaced her as it had done, but stood clear before + her in all its nakedness. + </p> + <p> + She sat for half an hour without stirring, not restraining herself from + thinking of Ilyin, then she got up languidly and dragged herself to her + bedroom. Andrey Ilyitch was already in bed. She sat down by the open + window and gave herself up to desire. There was no “tangle” now in her + head; all her thoughts and feelings were bent with one accord upon a + single aim. She tried to struggle against it, but instantly gave it up. . + . . She understood now how strong and relentless was the foe. Strength and + fortitude were needed to combat him, and her birth, her education, and her + life had given her nothing to fall back upon. + </p> + <p> + “Immoral wretch! Low creature!” she nagged at herself for her weakness. + “So that’s what you’re like!” + </p> + <p> + Her outraged sense of propriety was moved to such indignation by this + weakness that she lavished upon herself every term of abuse she knew, and + told herself many offensive and humiliating truths. So, for instance, she + told herself that she never had been moral, that she had not come to grief + before simply because she had had no opportunity, that her inward conflict + during that day had all been a farce. . . . + </p> + <p> + “And even if I have struggled,” she thought, “what sort of struggle was + it? Even the woman who sells herself struggles before she brings herself + to it, and yet she sells herself. A fine struggle! Like milk, I’ve turned + in a day! In one day!” + </p> + <p> + She convicted herself of being tempted, not by feeling, not by Ilyin + personally, but by sensations which awaited her . . . an idle lady, having + her fling in the summer holidays, like so many! + </p> + <p> + “‘Like an unfledged bird when the mother has been slain,’” sang a husky + tenor outside the window. + </p> + <p> + “If I am to go, it’s time,” thought Sofya Petrovna. Her heart suddenly + began beating violently. + </p> + <p> + “Andrey!” she almost shrieked. “Listen! we . . . we are going? Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’ve told you already: you go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “But listen,” she began. “If you don’t go with me, you are in danger of + losing me. I believe I am . . . in love already.” + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” asked Andrey Ilyitch. + </p> + <p> + “It can’t make any difference to you who it is!” cried Sofya Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + Andrey Ilyitch sat up with his feet out of bed and looked wonderingly at + his wife’s dark figure. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a fancy!” he yawned. + </p> + <p> + He did not believe her, but yet he was frightened. After thinking a little + and asking his wife several unimportant questions, he delivered himself of + his opinions on the family, on infidelity . . . spoke listlessly for about + ten minutes and got into bed again. His moralizing produced no effect. + There are a great many opinions in the world, and a good half of them are + held by people who have never been in trouble! + </p> + <p> + In spite of the late hour, summer visitors were still walking outside. + Sofya Petrovna put on a light cape, stood a little, thought a little. . . + . She still had resolution enough to say to her sleeping husband: + </p> + <p> + “Are you asleep? I am going for a walk. . . . Will you come with me?” + </p> + <p> + That was her last hope. Receiving no answer, she went out. . . . It was + fresh and windy. She was conscious neither of the wind nor the darkness, + but went on and on. . . . An overmastering force drove her on, and it + seemed as though, if she had stopped, it would have pushed her in the + back. + </p> + <p> + “Immoral creature!” she muttered mechanically. “Low wretch!” + </p> + <p> + She was breathless, hot with shame, did not feel her legs under her, but + what drove her on was stronger than shame, reason, or fear. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A TRIFLE FROM LIFE + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> WELL-FED, + red-cheeked young man called Nikolay Ilyitch Belyaev, of thirty-two, who + was an owner of house property in Petersburg, and a devotee of the + race-course, went one evening to see Olga Ivanovna Irnin, with whom he was + living, or, to use his own expression, was dragging out a long, wearisome + romance. And, indeed, the first interesting and enthusiastic pages of this + romance had long been perused; now the pages dragged on, and still dragged + on, without presenting anything new or of interest. + </p> + <p> + Not finding Olga Ivanovna at home, my hero lay down on the lounge chair + and proceeded to wait for her in the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Nikolay Ilyitch!” he heard a child’s voice. “Mother will be + here directly. She has gone with Sonia to the dressmaker’s.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Ivanovna’s son, Alyosha—a boy of eight who looked graceful and + very well cared for, who was dressed like a picture, in a black velvet + jacket and long black stockings—was lying on the sofa in the same + room. He was lying on a satin cushion and, evidently imitating an acrobat + he had lately seen at the circus, stuck up in the air first one leg and + then the other. When his elegant legs were exhausted, he brought his arms + into play or jumped up impulsively and went on all fours, trying to stand + with his legs in the air. All this he was doing with the utmost gravity, + gasping and groaning painfully as though he regretted that God had given + him such a restless body. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, good-evening, my boy,” said Belyaev. “It’s you! I did not notice you. + Is your mother well?” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha, taking hold of the tip of his left toe with his right hand and + falling into the most unnatural attitude, turned over, jumped up, and + peeped at Belyaev from behind the big fluffy lampshade. + </p> + <p> + “What shall I say?” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “In reality mother’s + never well. You see, she is a woman, and women, Nikolay Ilyitch, have + always something the matter with them.” + </p> + <p> + Belyaev, having nothing better to do, began watching Alyosha’s face. He + had never before during the whole of his intimacy with Olga Ivanovna paid + any attention to the boy, and had completely ignored his existence; the + boy had been before his eyes, but he had not cared to think why he was + there and what part he was playing. + </p> + <p> + In the twilight of the evening, Alyosha’s face, with his white forehead + and black, unblinking eyes, unexpectedly reminded Belyaev of Olga Ivanovna + as she had been during the first pages of their romance. And he felt + disposed to be friendly to the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, insect,” he said; “let me have a closer look at you.” + </p> + <p> + The boy jumped off the sofa and skipped up to Belyaev. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” began Nikolay Ilyitch, putting a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. + “How are you getting on?” + </p> + <p> + “How shall I say! We used to get on a great deal better.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s very simple. Sonia and I used only to learn music and reading, and + now they give us French poetry to learn. Have you been shaved lately?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see you have. Your beard is shorter. Let me touch it. . . . Does + that hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it that if you pull one hair it hurts, but if you pull a lot at + once it doesn’t hurt a bit? Ha, ha! And, you know, it’s a pity you don’t + have whiskers. Here ought to be shaved . . . but here at the sides the + hair ought to be left. . . .” + </p> + <p> + The boy nestled up to Belyaev and began playing with his watch-chain. + </p> + <p> + “When I go to the high-school,” he said, “mother is going to buy me a + watch. I shall ask her to buy me a watch-chain like this. . . . Wh-at a + lo-ket! Father’s got a locket like that, only yours has little bars on it + and his has letters. . . . There’s mother’s portrait in the middle of his. + Father has a different sort of chain now, not made with rings, but like + ribbon. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know? Do you see your father?” + </p> + <p> + “I? M’m . . . no . . . I . . .” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha blushed, and in great confusion, feeling caught in a lie, began + zealously scratching the locket with his nail. . . . Belyaev looked + steadily into his face and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Do you see your father?” + </p> + <p> + “N-no!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, speak frankly, on your honour. . . . I see from your face you are + telling a fib. Once you’ve let a thing slip out it’s no good wriggling + about it. Tell me, do you see him? Come, as a friend.” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t tell mother?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “As though I should!” + </p> + <p> + “On your honour?” + </p> + <p> + “On my honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you swear?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you provoking boy! What do you take me for?” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha looked round him, then with wide-open eyes, whispered to him: + </p> + <p> + “Only, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell mother. . . . Don’t tell any one at + all, for it is a secret. I hope to goodness mother won’t find out, or we + should all catch it—Sonia, and I, and Pelagea . . . . Well, listen. + . . Sonia and I see father every Tuesday and Friday. When Pelagea takes us + for a walk before dinner we go to the Apfel Restaurant, and there is + father waiting for us. . . . He is always sitting in a room apart, where + you know there’s a marble table and an ash-tray in the shape of a goose + without a back. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “What do you do there?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! First we say how-do-you-do, then we all sit round the table, and + father treats us with coffee and pies. You know Sonia eats the meat-pies, + but I can’t endure meat-pies! I like the pies made of cabbage and eggs. We + eat such a lot that we have to try hard to eat as much as we can at + dinner, for fear mother should notice.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you talk about?” + </p> + <p> + “With father? About anything. He kisses us, he hugs us, tells us all sorts + of amusing jokes. Do you know, he says when we are grown up he is going to + take us to live with him. Sonia does not want to go, but I agree. Of + course, I should miss mother; but, then, I should write her letters! It’s + a queer idea, but we could come and visit her on holidays—couldn’t + we? Father says, too, that he will buy me a horse. He’s an awfully kind + man! I can’t understand why mother does not ask him to come and live with + us, and why she forbids us to see him. You know he loves mother very much. + He is always asking us how she is and what she is doing. When she was ill + he clutched his head like this, and . . . and kept running about. He + always tells us to be obedient and respectful to her. Listen. Is it true + that we are unfortunate?” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . . Why?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what father says. ‘You are unhappy children,’ he says. It’s + strange to hear him, really. ‘You are unhappy,’ he says, ‘I am unhappy, + and mother’s unhappy. You must pray to God,’ he says; ‘for yourselves and + for her.’” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha let his eyes rest on a stuffed bird and sank into thought. + </p> + <p> + “So . . .” growled Belyaev. “So that’s how you are going on. You arrange + meetings at restaurants. And mother does not know?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o. . . . How should she know? Pelagea would not tell her for anything, + you know. The day before yesterday he gave us some pears. As sweet as jam! + I ate two.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! . . . Well, and I say . . Listen. Did father say anything about me?” + </p> + <p> + “About you? What shall I say?” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha looked searchingly into Belyaev’s face and shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t say anything particular.” + </p> + <p> + “For instance, what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “You won’t be offended?” + </p> + <p> + “What next? Why, does he abuse me?” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t abuse you, but you know he is angry with you. He says mother’s + unhappy owing to you . . . and that you have ruined mother. You know he is + so queer! I explain to him that you are kind, that you never scold mother; + but he only shakes his head.” + </p> + <p> + “So he says I have ruined her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you mustn’t be offended, Nikolay Ilyitch.” + </p> + <p> + Belyaev got up, stood still a moment, and walked up and down the + drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “That’s strange and . . . ridiculous!” he muttered, shrugging his + shoulders and smiling sarcastically. “He’s entirely to blame, and I have + ruined her, eh? An innocent lamb, I must say. So he told you I ruined your + mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but . . . you said you would not be offended, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not offended, and . . . and it’s not your business. Why, it’s . . . + why, it’s positively ridiculous! I have been thrust into it like a chicken + in the broth, and now it seems I’m to blame!” + </p> + <p> + A ring was heard. The boy sprang up from his place and ran out. A minute + later a lady came into the room with a little girl; this was Olga + Ivanovna, Alyosha’s mother. Alyosha followed them in, skipping and + jumping, humming aloud and waving his hands. Belyaev nodded, and went on + walking up and down. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, whose fault is it if not mine?” he muttered with a snort. “He + is right! He is an injured husband.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” asked Olga Ivanovna. + </p> + <p> + “What about? . . . Why, just listen to the tales your lawful spouse is + spreading now! It appears that I am a scoundrel and a villain, that I have + ruined you and the children. All of you are unhappy, and I am the only + happy one! Wonderfully, wonderfully happy!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand, Nikolay. What’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, listen to this young gentleman!” said Belyaev, pointing to Alyosha. + </p> + <p> + Alyosha flushed crimson, then turned pale, and his whole face began + working with terror. + </p> + <p> + “Nikolay Ilyitch,” he said in a loud whisper. “Sh-sh!” + </p> + <p> + Olga Ivanovna looked in surprise at Alyosha, then at Belyaev, then at + Alyosha again. + </p> + <p> + “Just ask him,” Belyaev went on. “Your Pelagea, like a regular fool, takes + them about to restaurants and arranges meetings with their papa. But + that’s not the point: the point is that their dear papa is a victim, while + I’m a wretch who has broken up both your lives. . .” + </p> + <p> + “Nikolay Ilyitch,” moaned Alyosha. “Why, you promised on your word of + honour!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, get away!” said Belyaev, waving him off. “This is more important than + any word of honour. It’s the hypocrisy revolts me, the lying! . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand it,” said Olga Ivanovna, and tears glistened in her + eyes. “Tell me, Alyosha,” she turned to her son. “Do you see your father?” + </p> + <p> + Alyosha did not hear her; he was looking with horror at Belyaev. + </p> + <p> + “It’s impossible,” said his mother; “I will go and question Pelagea.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Ivanovna went out. + </p> + <p> + “I say, you promised on your word of honour!” said Alyosha, trembling all + over. + </p> + <p> + Belyaev dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and went on walking up and + down. He was absorbed in his grievance and was oblivious of the boy’s + presence, as he always had been. He, a grownup, serious person, had no + thought to spare for boys. And Alyosha sat down in the corner and told + Sonia with horror how he had been deceived. He was trembling, stammering, + and crying. It was the first time in his life that he had been brought + into such coarse contact with lying; till then he had not known that there + are in the world, besides sweet pears, pies, and expensive watches, a + great many things for which the language of children has no expression. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Party and Other Stories, +by Anton Chekhov + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PARTY *** + +***** This file should be named 13413-h.htm or 13413-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/1/13413/ + + + + +Etext produced by James Rusk + +HTML file produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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