The novels and stories of Ivan Turgenieff. Translated from the Russian by Isabel F. Hapgood, with an introd. by Henry James

IVAN TURGENIEFF

VOLUME X

THE JEW tt AND
OTHER STORIES

THE NOVELS AND STORIES OF
IVAN TURGENIEFF

c Vo\. \0 a

THE JEW •$• AND

OTHER STORIES

TRA > FROM THE RUSSIAN BY

HAPGOOD

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

.HO

DAT

Suddenly, Sara entered, alone.
From a drawing by CH. WEBER DITZLER.

THE NOVELS AND STORIES OF
IVAN TURGENIEFF)

tf vj <L ev v.cU Tujf1 tf e

THE JEW * AND

OTHER STORIES

TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY
ISABEL F. HAPGOOD

t'

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1904

..

DATE

Copyright, 1904, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

96

v, 10

THE DEVINNE PRESS

PREFACE

THE story of " The Jew," written in 1846, was
regarded by the Russian critics as being distin-
guished for its simplicity of p]fit^jand_Jis— can*--
scientious realism, — especially in the portrait of
Hirschel, — but not as of great importance. It
evoked attacks upon the author from the Jews.

" Andrei Kolosoff," Turgenieff ' s first short
story, was constructed— said the Russian critics—
strictly in accordance with the views which, at that
epoch (1844), were regarded as new and just.
The author, then a government official, employed
most of his time in reading George Sand's nov-
els, and the traces of her influence are perceptible
throughout this story. One critic objects that the
author's view of his first hero is — in spite of its
poetical coloring — unnatural, illogical, inhuman,
unfaithful to reality, and that it does not conform
to the character of KolosoiF as portrayed in the
story. He maintains that no one would have tol-
erated the remarkable and incomparable KolosofF
in ordinary healthy life, because he was ab-
normal ; and his abnormality gave rise to the same
thing in all the other characters of the story.
Byelinsky, the most famous of Russian critics,

PREFACE

said of it, three years after it was published, that
although it contained many fine sketches and
characters from Russian life yet, as a novel, it
was, on the whole, so strange, incomplete, and
clumsy that very few people had noticed its good
points.

Of " The Bully " it was said by one prominent
critic, that Turgenieff had indirectly helped to
dethrone the native-born Byrons who were in
high favour at the time of its appearance, in the
eyes of Russian society, by representing Lutch-
koff as a bad man. In this respect Turgenieff
was in sympathy with the times. People were
rising in protest against the all-conquering heroes
of the '20s and '30s of the last century. And yet
it was not altogether an easy matter, even then
(1846), to present that aspect of the case to the
public, while Petchorin (the hero of Lermon-
toff's celebrated " A Hero of Our Times ") still
enjoyed great credit in literature and society.
Under the influence of the Petchorin ideal there
had sprung up all over the land a great crop of
trivial, insipid, conceited, and coarse-minded fops
and ne'er-do-wells, who imagined that they be-
longed to the " rapacious " type. In the same
way, long afterward, Tur genie fF's novel " Fa-
thers and Children " produced a huge crop of
coarse and ignorantly -uncivilised idlers, who fan-
cied that they were Bazaroffs, notwithstanding
the fact that the author had ridiculed such imita-

vi

PREFACE

tions in advance, in the character of Sitnikoff in
that same novel. Turgenieff, in " The Bully,"
turned the Petchorin type inside out, so to speak,
and thereby annihilated it.

" Pyetushkoff " is regarded as one of the au-
thor's most unsuccessful efforts. One critic, while
admitting that the idea of depicting the inebria-
tion of love experienced for the first time in a
simple-minded and indolent man, is worthy of
Gogol, yet declares that Turgenieff reflects, in
feeble fashion, that great humorist's views, man-
ner, and even the peculiarities of his style, — quite
involuntarily however. Another critic compares
the author's attitude toward his hero and the lat-
ter's sad but absurd love to that of Dostoievsky
toward his hero, Makar Dyevushkin (in " Poor
People").

In " The Two Friends " there is no longer per-
ceptible any trace of the influence of George Sand,
Byron, or the Gogol element taken from the mis-
anthropic point of view, say the Russian critics.
Vyazovnin is thoroughly Russian, and as com-
pletely a " superfluous man " as Tchulkatiirin.1
He represents the average type of discontented
people— the " golden mean,"— well-intentioned,
easily bored, easily incited to enthusiasm, easily
swayed in various directions. The sketches of life
are capital, simple as is the plot.

In its original f orm^the story ended with Vya-

!See "The Diary of a Superfluous Man," Vol. XL— TRANSLATOR.

vii

PREFACE

zovnin's accidental death by drowning; he was
represented as falling from the deck of the
steamer. In later editions Turgenieff extended
the story considerably, and rendered it much more
artistic ; for only a limp and characterless Russian
of the " intelligent " class, idly roaming over the
Western Europe beloved of his heart, could die as
Vyazovnin does in the duel with the strange
Frenchman. The pages in which this duel is de-
scribed belong, says one critic, among Turge-
nieff's best, and possess in addition this interest—
that the artist, who was regarded by many and
who regarded himself as a pure-blooded advocate
of Western things and methods, here depicts the
French with unconcealed ferocity and scorn for
certain truly revolting and wretched qualities in
their national character.

I. F. H.

Vlll

CONTENTS

PAGE
1

THE JEW

ANDREI KOLOSOFF 33

THE BULLY 89

PYETUSHKOFF 173

THE TWO FRIENDS . . 251

THE JEW

(1846)

THE JEW

!< T^RAY, tell us a story, Colonel," we said at
1 last to Nikolai llitch. The Colonel smiled,
emitted a stream of tobacco-smoke through his
moustache, passed his hand over his grey hair,
stared at us, and meditated. We all loved and re-
spected Nikolai flitch extremely for his kind-
heartedness, his sound sense, and his indulgence
toward us youngsters. He was tall of stature,
broad-shouldered, and corpulent. His swarthy
face, " one of the glorious Russian faces," * his
frank-spirited, clever gaze, his gentle smile, his
manly and resonant voice— everything about him
pleased and attracted.

" Well, then, listen,"-he began.

IT happened in the year '13, before Dantzig. I
was then serving in the E** cuirassier regiment,
and, as I recall it, had just been promoted to the
rank of cornet. 'T is a merry occupation,—
fighting and marching,— a fine thing, but in
the besieging force things were very dull. You
sit all God's day in some lodgment or other, un-
der a tent, in the mud or straw, and play cards

1 Lermontoff, in " The Treasurer's Wife."

3

THE JEW

from morning till night. Perhaps, out of sheer
tedium, you go out to take a look at the way the
hot shot or the bombs are flying.

At first the French comforted us with sallies,
but they soon quieted down. Riding on foraging
expeditions got tiresome also; in a word, such
boredom descended upon us that we were fit to
howl. I was only in my nineteenth year then;
I was a healthy youngster, with a complexion
of blood and milk, and I thought I would amuse
myself at the expense of the French, and at the
expense of .... well, you understand . . . but
this is what came of it. For lack of something
to do, I took to gambling. One day, after losing
frightfully, luck turned in my favour, and to-
ward morning (we were playing by night), I
had wron heavily. Exhausted and sleepy, I
emerged into the open air and sat down on the
glacis. It was a magnificent, calm morning; the
long lines of our fortifications were lost in the
mist; I looked about me, then fell into a doze
where I sat. A cautious cough awakened me;
I opened my eyes and beheld before me a Jew,
about forty years of age, in a long-skirted grey
kaftan, shoes, and a black skull-cap. This Jew,
Hirschel by name, was constantly haunting our
camp, intruding himself on the agents, furnish-
ing us with wine, edibles, and other trifles; he
was small of stature, thin, pock-marked, and
red-haired; he was incessantly winking his tiny

*»«l/~ 4

THE JEW

eyes, which were alsojed; he had a long, crooked
nose, and was eternally coughing.

He began to wriggle about in front of me,
and make low bows. *&£WL/I

" Well, what dost thou want? " — I asked him
at last.

" Why, sir, I came to inquire, sir, whether I
could not supply their1 Well-Born with some-
thing. . . ."

" I have no need of thee; begone."

" As you command, sir, as you like, sir. . . .
I thought that, possibly, there was something,
sir ... ."

" Thou borest me; begone, I tell thee."

" Certainly, certainly, sir. But permit me to
congratulate their Weil-Born on their win-
nings. . . ."

" How dost thou know about that? "

" And why should n't I know, sir? . . . . Big
winnings .... big. . . . Phew! how big! . . . ."

Hirschel spread out his fingers widely, and
nodded his head.

"But what 's the good of it? "—I said with
vexation.— ' What the devil is the use of money
here? "

" Oh, don't say that, your Well-Born ;_ai, ai',
don't say that. Money is a good thing; 't is
always useful; everything can be had for

1 "Their" (instead " of your ") Well-Born indicates profound re-
spect. The Jew talks broken Russian. — TRANSLATOR.

5

money, your Well-Born,— everything, every-
thing!" "

"Stop lying, Jew!"

"Ai, ai!" — repeated Hirschel, shaking his
ear-locks;— " their Well-Born does not believe

me . . . ai ai . . . . ai " The Jew shut his

eyes and slowly shook his head to the right
and left. ..." But I know what the Mr. Offi-
cer would like. ... I know .... indeed I
know!"

The Jew assumed a very cunnmg aspect. . . .

" Really? "

The Jew cast a timid glance about him, then
bent toward me.

" Such a beauty, your Well-Born, such a
beauty!" . . . Again Hirschel closed his eyes,
and protruded his lips. — " Give the command,
your Well-Born . . . you shall see for your-
self . . . what I shall say now you will hear
.... you will not believe it .... but you had
better command me to show you .... that 's
how, that 's what! "

I made no answer, and stared at the Jew.

"Well, good, then; well, that 's good; well
now, I '11 show you. ..." Here Hirschel burst
out laughing and slapped me lightly on the shoul-
der, but immediately leaped back, as though he
had been singed.

" Well, now, your Weil-Born, how about a
little deposit? "

THE JEW

" But thou wilt cheat me, or show me some
scarecrow? "

"Ai', vai, what are you saying? "—exclaimed
the Jew, with unwonted warmth, and flourishing
his arms.— "How is it possible? But do you,
your Weil-Born .... command that I be
given five hundred .... four hundred and
fifty blows with a stick,"— he added hastily. . .
" Do you give the command. . . ."

At that moment, one of my comrades raised
the edge of the tent, and called me by name. I
hastily rose, and tossed the Jew a ducat.

" This evening, this evening,"— he mumbled
after me.

I must confess to you, gentlemen, that I
awaited the evening with some impatience. On
that same day the French made a sally; our regi-
ment went to the attack. Evening drew on; we
seated ourselves round the camp-fires . . . the
soldiers cooked the buckwheat groats.— Discus-
sions began. I lay on my burka* and listened to
my comrades' tales. They proposed to me to
play cards. I refused. I was in a state of agi-
tation. Little by little the officers dispersed to
their tents; the fires began to die out; the sol-
diers also had scattered, or fallen asleep on the
spot; everything was quiet. I did not rise. My
orderly was squatting on his heels before the

1 A large Caucasian circular cloak, of heavy, impenetrable,
shaggy felt.— TRANSLATOR.

THE JEW

fire and, as the saying is, " catching fish."— I
drove him away. Soon the whole camp had
grown silent. The watch made its round. The
sentries were changed. I still lay there and
waited for something. The stars came out.
Night had come. For a long time I gazed at the
expiring flame .... the last tiny spark died
out at last. " The damned Jew has deceived me,"
I thought with vexation, and was on the point of
rising. . . .

" Your Well-Born . . . ." whispered an anx-
ious voice above my very ear.

I looked round : it was Hirschel. He was very
pale, and stammered and lisped.

" Please go to your tent, sir."

I rose and followed him. The Jew was. all
shrunk together, and trod cautiously on the short,
damp grass. I noticed on one side a motionless,
muffled figure. The Jew waved his hand at it—
it approached him. He whispered with it, turned
to me, nodded his head several times, and all three
of us entered the tent. Absurd to say, I was
choking.

" Here, your Well-Born," — whispered the
Jew with an effort : " here. She 's a little fright-
ened now, she 's frightened; but I have told her
that the Mr. Officer is a good man, a fine man.
. . . And thou must not be afraid, must not be
afraid,"— he added,— "must not be afraid. . . ."

The muffled figure did not stir. I myself was
8

in a terrible state of confusion, and did not
know what to say. Hirschel kept dancing up and
down in one place, and throwing his hands apart

" But,"— I said to him, " leave the tent. . . ."

Hirschel obeyed with apparent unwillingness.

I stepped up to the muffled figure and gently
removed the dark hood from its head. There was
a conflagration in Dantzig; by the reddish, spas-
modic and feeble reflection of the distant fire I
beheld the pale face of a j^oung Jewess. Her
beauty startled me. I stood before her and gazed
at Kerlh silence. She did not raise her eyes. A
faint rustle made me glance round. Hirschel
was cautiously thrusting his head past the flap
of the tent. I waved my hand at him in irritation
... he disappeared.

" What is thy name? "—I said at last.

" Sara," she replied,— and for one instant the
whites of her large, long eyes, and her little, even,
gleaming teeth flashed in the gloom.

I seized two leather cushions, threw them on
the ground, and asked her to sit down. She
flung off her cloak and seated herself. She wore
a short kazak jacket, open in front, with round,
carved silver buttons, and wide sleeves. Her
thick black braid of hair encircled her little head
twice. I sat down beside her, and took her^dark>
skinned,, slender hand. She resisted a little, but
seemed to be afraid to look at me, and her breath

9

THE JEW

came unevenly. I admired herjOriefttel- profile—-
and timidly pressed her cold, trembling fingers.

" Dost thou understand Russian? "

" Yes ... a little."

" And dost thou love the Russians? "

" Yes, I do."

" So, then, thou lovest me? "

" Yes, I love you, also."

I tried to embrace her, but she hastily moved
away. . . .

" No, no, please, master, please. . . ."

" Well, then, look at me, at least."

She fixed on me her black, piercing eyes, and
immediately turned atvay with a smile and
blushed.

I kissed her hand fervently. She cast a side-
long glance at me, and broke into a soft laugh.

" What art thou laughing at? "

She covered her face with her sleeve and
laughed more heartily than before. Hirschel
made his appearance at the entrance to the tent,
and shook his finger at her. She fell silent.

" Get out! " I whispered to him through my
teeth.—" I 'm tired of thee! "

Hirschel did not withdraw.

I got a handful of ducats out of my chest,
thrust them into his hand, and pushed him out.

" Give me some, too, master. . ." said she.

I tossed several ducats into her lap; she
snatched them up nimbly, like a cat.

THE JEW

" WeU, now I shall kiss thee."

" No, please, please,"— she lisped in a fright-
ened and beseeching voice.

" What dost thou fear? "

" I 'm afraid."

" Come, enough of that. . . ."

" No, please. ."

She gazed timidly at me, bent her head a little
on one side, and clasped her hands. I left her in
peace.

" If thou wishest . . . here," she said, after a
considerable pause, and raised her hand to my
lips.

I kissed it not altogether willingly. Again
Sara burst out laughing.

My blood choked me. I was vexed at myself
and did not know what to do. " But," I thought
at last, " what a fool I am! "

I turned to her again.

" Hearken, Sara, I 'm in love with thee."

" I know it."

" Thou knowest it? And thou art not angry?
And dost thou love me? "

Sara nodded her head.

" No, answer me properly."

" Show yourself,"— said she.

I bent toward her. Sara laid her hands on my
shoulders, began to scan my face, frowned,
smiled. ... I could not restrain myself and
swiftly kissed her on the cheek. She sprang up,

11

and with one bound was at the entrance to the
tent.

" Well, what a savage thou art! "

She made no reply, and did not stir from the
spot.

" Come hither to me. . . ."

"No, master; farewell. Until another time."

Again Hirschel thrust in his little curly head
and said a couple of words to her; she bent down
and

I rushed out of the tent after her, but saw
neither her nor Hirschel.

All night long I could not get to sleep.

On the following morning we were sitting in
the tent of our captain; I was gambling, but
reluctantly. My orderly entered.

" Some one is asking for you, your Weil-
Born."

"Who wants me?"

" A Jew is asking for you."

" Can it be Hirschel? " I thought. I waited
until the end of the deal, rose, and went out. In
fact, I beheld Hirschel.

:< Well,"— he asked me with a pleasant smile,
" is your Well-Born satisfied? "

"Akh, devil take thee! . . ." (At this point
the Colonel glanced round) "... I think there
are no ladies present . . . however, never mind.
Akh, damn thee, my dear fellow," — I answered
him; " art thou making game of me, pray? "

12

THE JEW

"Why so, sir?"

" What meanest thou by ' why so ' ? I should
think thou wouldst ask! "

" Ai, ai, Mr. Officer, what a man you are,"—
said Hirschel, reproachfully, but without ceasing
to smile.—" The girl is young, modest .... you
frightened her, really you frightened her."

"Fine modesty! Then why did she take the
money? "

" And why not, sir? ^Vhenjnoney is offered,
sir, why -not take it? "

" Hark ye, Hirschel: let her come again; I will
not let thee lose anything by it ... only, be so
good as not to show thy stupid phiz in my tent,
and leave us in peace; hearest thou? "

Hirschel's eyes sparkled.

' Well? And does she please you? "

" Well, yes."

" A beauty! there 's no such beauty anywhere.
And will you give me the money now? "

c Take it ; only, hearken to me : an agreement
is better than money. Fetch her, and take thy-
self off to the devil ! I '11 conduct her home my-
self."

" But that is impossible, impossible, utterly im-
possible, sir,"— returned the Jew, hastily.—" Ai,
ai', utterly impossible, sir. I will walk about near
the tent, if you please, your Well-Born; I '11—
I '11 go a little way off , your Weil-Born, if you
like, . . . your Well-Born, |jn ready toserve you;

^

THE JEW

I '11 go off a bit, if you please. . . . What say you
to that? I '11 go off a bit."

" Well, see that thou dost. . . . But fetch her,
hearest thou? "

" But she 's a beauty, is n't she, Mr. Officer?
hey? Your Weil-Born? A beauty? Hey?"

Hirschel bent forward, and gazed into my
eyes.

" She 's very nice."

"Well, then, give me just one more little
ducat. . . ."

I flung him a ducat ; we parted.

The day came to an end at last. Night de-
scended. For a long time I sat alone in my
tent. The weather was overcast. The clock in
the town struck two. I had already begun to
curse the Jew . . . when, suddenly, Sara en-
tered, alone. I sprang to my feet, embraced
her . . . touched my lips to her face. ... It
was as cold as ice. I could barely distinguish her
features. ... I seated her, knelt down in front
of her, took her hands, touched her waist. . . .
She preserved silence, and did not stir, and sud-
denly burst out into loud, convulsive sobs. In vain
did I strive to sooth her, to persuade her. . . . She
sobbed and wept. ... I caressed her, wiped away
her tears; as before, she ojffered^no-resistaTicej
did not reply to my questions, and wept, wept in
torrents. My heart revolted within me; I rose
and left the tent.

14

THE JEW

Hirschel ducked up in front of me, as though
he had sprung out of the earth.

" Hirschel,"— I said to him,—" here is the
money I promised thee. Take Sara away.

The Jew immediately rushed to her. She had
ceased weeping, and clung to him.

" Good-bye, Sara," I said to her.—" God be
with thee, farewell. We shall meet again some
other time."

Hirschel maintained silence and saluted. Sara
bent down, took my hand, and pressed it to her
lips ; I turned away. . . .

Five or six days, gentlemen, I thought of my
Jewess. Hirschel did not make his appearance,
and no one had seen him in the camp. At night
I slept rather badly: I kept seeing visions of
moist black eyes and long lashes; my lips could
not forget the touch of that cheek, as smooth and
fresh as the skin of a plum. I was sent with a
detachment on a foraging expedition to a dis-
tant hamlet. While my soldiers were rummag-
ing the houses I remained in the street, and did
not alight from my horse. Suddenly, some one
seized me by the foot. . . .

" Great heavens, Sara! "

She was pale and agitated.

" Mr. Officer, mister .... help, save, the sol-
diers are insulting us. ... Mr. Officer ....

She recognised me, and flushed up.

" But dost thou live here? "
15

THE JEW

Yes."

«

"Where?"

Sara pointed out to me a tiny, ancient house.
I gave my horse the spur, and galloped thither.
In the yard of the little house, a hkleou&^dL
shevelled Jewess was endeavouring t'oTwrest from
the hands of my long quartermaster, Silyavka,
three chickens and a duck. He had raised his
booty high above his head and was laughing; the
chickens were cackling, the duck was quacking.
. . . Two other cuirassiers had laden their horses
with hay, straw, and flour-sacks. In the house
itself, Little Russian exclamations and oaths
were audible. ... I shouted at my men and or-
dered them to leave the Jews in peace, to take
nothing from them. The soldiers obeyed; the
quartermaster mounted his brown mare, Pros-
erpine, or, as he called her, " Prozherpyla," and
rode out into the street in my wake.

"Well," I said to Sara,— "art thou satisfied
with me? "

She looked at me with a smile.

;< Where hast thou been hiding thyself all this
time?"

She dropped her eyes.

" I will come to you to-morrow."

" In the evening? "

" No, sir, in the morning."

" See that thou dost not deceive me."

" No .... no, I will not deceive thee."
16

THE JEW

I gazed eagerly at her. By day she seemed to
be even more beautiful. I remember that I was
particularly struck with tfye jllLLajnber jjnt of
her face and the bluish reflections of her black
hair. ... I bent down from my horse, and
pressed her little hand warmly.

" Farewell, Sara ... see that thou comest."

" I will come."

She went home; I ordered my quartermaster
to follow me with the detachment, and galloped
off.

On the following day I rose very early and
went out of my tent. It was a wondrously beau-
tiful morning; the sun had only just risen, and a
moist crimson light sparkled on every blade of
grass. I mounted the high breastwork and
seated myself on the edge of an embrasure. Be-
neath me a fat iron cannon thrust its black muzzle
into the fields. I gazed absent-mindedly on all
sides .... and suddenly beheld, about a hun-
dred paces distant, a bg^^pic&iii^k-gFey'-kaftan-.---'-'
I recognised Hirschel. He stood for a long

le motionless in one spot, then suddenly ran
)ff a little to one side, cast a hasty and timorous

lance around him . . . grunted, squatted down,

tutiously stretched out his neck, and again be-
to gaze about him, and to listen. I could see
11 his movements with perfect distinctness. He

trust his hand into his breast, drew out a scrap
)f paper and a pencil, and began to write or

17

THE JEW

sketch something. Hirschel kept incessantly
pausing, quivering like a hare, attentively scan-
ning his surroundings, and was apparently mak-
ing a drawing of our camp. More than once he
hid his paper, screwed up his eyes, sniffed the
air, and again bent to his work. At last the Jew
squatted down on the grass, took off his shoe,
and thrust in the paper; but before he had man-
aged to straighten himself up again, suddenly,
ten paces from him, from behind the slope of the
glacis, the moustached head of quartermaster Si-
lyavka made its appearance, and gradually his
whole long, clumsy body raised itself a little
from the ground. The Jew was standing with
his back to him. Silyavka walked briskly up to
him and laid his heavy paw on his shoulder. Hir-
schel shrivelled up. He shook like a leaf, and
emitted a^jraJIir^Jiaj^-likej^r^. Silyavka spoke
menacingly to him, and seized him by the collar.
I could not hear their conversation, but from
the despairing movements of the Jew's body,
from his beseeching mien, I began to divine
what the matter was. A couple of times the Jew
flung himself at the quartermaster's feet, thrust
his hand into his pocket, pulled out a tattered
checked handkerchief, untied a knot in it, and got
out a ducgt, . . . Silyavka gravely accepted the
gift, but did not cease to drag the Jew by
the collar. Hirschel broke loose and darted to
one side; the quartermaster set out in pursuit of

18

THE JEW

him. The Jew ran with extreme swiftness; his
legs, clad in blue stockings, twinkled very fast
indeed, in fact; but Silyavka, after two or three
" spurts," caught the squatting Jew, lifted him
up, and carried him in his arms straight toward
the camp. I rose and went to meet him.

"Ah! your Well-Born! "—shouted Silyavka:
" I 'm bringing you a spy,— a spy! "... The
perspiration poured in streanisTrom the face of
the Little Russian.—" Come, stop that wrig-
gling, thou devjj's Jew! stop it, I say . . .
damn thee! if thou dost not, I '11 crush thee—
lookout!"

The unhappy Hirschel pushed feebly with his
elbows against Silyavka's breast, and feebly
kicked his legs about. . . . His eyes rolled con-
vulsively upward. . . .

"What 's the matter? "—I inquired of Si-
lyavka.

:< Why, here, your Well-Born : please to re-
move the shoe from his right foot,— it 's awkward
for me." — He still held the Jew in his arms.

I removed the shoe, took out the carefully-
folded bit of paper, unfolded it, and beheld a de-
tailed sketch of our camp. On the margins stood
numerous comments, written in a very fine script,
in the Jewish tongue.

In tliemiS3tlme7~Silyavka had set the Jew
on his legs. The Jew opened his eyes, saw me,
and flung himself on his knees before me.

19

u

Y\

THE JEW

I silently showed him the paper.

"What's this?"

"That is— just,— Mr. Officer. I just made
that by chance." — His voice broke.

"Artthouascout?"

He did not understand me, muttered incoher-
ent words, and tremulously touched my knees. . . .

" Art thou a spy? "

" Ail "—he cried faintly, and shook his head.
— "How is that possible? I never was; I am
nothing of the sort. I can't be ; it is n't possible.
I 'm ready. This instant. I_*ll give moj^ey
. . . . J '11 pay,"— he whispered, and closed his
eyes.

His skull-cap had fallen back on his nape; his
red hair, damp with cold sweat, hung in elf-locks ;
his lips had turned blue and were spasmodically
contorted; his brows were painfully contracted;
higjdjeekswere sunken. . . .

The soidiers"^surrounded us. At first I had
felt like giving Hirschel a good fright, and or-
dering Silyavka to hold his tongue; but now the
affair had become public, and could not be kept
from the knowledge of the authorities.

" Conduct him to the General,"— I said to the
quartermaster.

"Mr. Officer, your Weil-Born! "— shrieked-
the Jew in a voice of despair:— " I am not guilty;
I am not guilty. . . . Order them to release me,
order . . . ."

20

THE JEW

"His Excellency will settle that,"— said Si-
lyavka.— " Come along."

" Your Well-Born! " — the Jew screamed after
me:—" give orders! have mercy! "

His shriek worried me. I hastened my steps.

Our General was a man of German extrac-
tion, honourable and kind-hearted, but a strict
executor of the regulations of the service. I en-
tered his small, hastily-built house, and in a few
words explained to him the cause of my visit. I
was familiar with all the strictness of the mili-
tary regulations, and therefore did not even utter
the word " spy," but endeavoured to represent
the whole affair as unimportant, and not worth
attention. But, unluckily for Hirschel, the Gen-
eral placed the fulfilment of duty above com-
passion.

" Young man,"— he said to me,—" you are in-
experienced. You are, as yet, inexperienced in
military affairs. The matter which1 (the Gen-
eral was very fond of the word " which ") you
have reported to me is important, very import-
ant. . . . And where is that man who was cap-
tured? that Hebrew? Where is he? "

I went out of the tent, and ordered the Jew
to be led in.

The Jew was led in. The unhappy wight
could barely stand on his legs.

1 The General pronounces it k6toryl instead of
kotoryi. — TRANSLATOR.

21

>*• /

O7.

Yes,"— said the General, turning to me:—
and where is that plan which was found on this
n man?"

I handed him the paper. The General un-
folded it, moved backward, puckered up his eyes,
and contracted his brows in a frown.

" This is a-ma-zing . . . ." he said with pauses
between the syllables.— :c Who arrested him? "

"I, your Excellency! "-blurted out Silya-
vka, sharply.

"Ah! Good! good! .... Well, my good
man, what hast thou to say in thine own de-
fence? "

" Yo ... yo .... your Excellency,"— stam-
mered Hirschel:— "I .... pray .... your Ex-
$\/ / cellency .... am not guilty . . . ask the Sir
Officer if I am, your Excellency. ... I 'm an
agent, your Excellency, an honest agent."

" He must be cross-examined," — said the Gen-
eral in a low voice, shaking his head pompously.
— " Well, and what is thy plea, my good
man? "

" Not guilty, your Excellency, not guilty."

" But that is incredible. Thou hast been
caught deservedly, as the expression is in Rus-
sian—that is to say, in the very act! "

" Permit me to say, your Excellency, that I am
not guilty."

" Didst thou draw the plan? Art thou a spy
of the enemy?"

22

THE JEW

"Not I! "-cried Hirschel, suddenly: —"not
I, your Excellency! "

The General glanced at Silyavka.

" Why, he 's lying, your Excellency. The
Sir Officer got the document out of his shoe him-
self."

The General looked at me. I was compelled
to nod my head.

;< Thou art a scout of the enemy, my good
man, .... my good man. . . ."

" Not I. ... Not I ... ." whispered the
distracted Jew.

:' Thou hast already furnished the enemy with
similar information? Confess. . . ."

"How is that possible!"

" Thou shalt not deceive me, my good man.
Art thou a scout? "

The Jew shut his eyes, shook his head, and
raised the skirts of his kaftan.

" Hang him,"— said the General expressively,
after a brief pause,—" in accordance with the
laws. Where is Mr. Feodor Schlikelmann? "

They ran for Schlikelmann, the General's ad-
jutant. Hirschel turned green, his mouth fell
open, his eyes protruded. The adjutant pre-
ted himself. The General gave him the re-
quisite instructions. The regimental secretary
showed his gaunt, pock-marked face for a mo-
ment. Two or three officers looked into the room
Iut of curiosity.
23

u M^

senl

THE JEW

"Have mercy, your Excellency,"— I said to
the General in German, to the best of my ability :
— " release him. . . ."

* You, young man,"— he replied to me in
Russian,— " you are inexperienced, as I have
already told you, and therefore I beg that
you will hold your peace, and not trouble me
further."

Hirschel flung himself with a shriek at the
General's feet.

" Your Excellency, have mercy, I won't do it
again— I won't, your Excellency, I have a wife
.... your Excellency, I have a daughter . . 7~~.
have mercy. . . ."

"What can I do?"

" I be guilty, your Excellency, I be really
guilty .... for the first time, your Excellency,
for the first time, believe me ! "

:< Thou hast not furnished any other papers? "

" For the first time, your Excellency ....
a wife . . . children .... have mercy. . . ."

" But thou art a spy."

" A wife .... your Excellency .... chil-
dren. . . ."

It was very distasteful to the General, but
there was no way out of it.

" In accordance with the laws the Jew must be

hanged,"— he said slowly and with the aspect of

a man who is forced, reluctantly, to sacrifice his

better feelings to inexorable duty.—" He must

24

THE JEW

hang! Feodor Karlitch, I request that you wil

write a report of these proceedings, which . . . ."

A strange change suddenly came over Hir-

to the Jew, the terrible agony which precedes
death was depicted on his countenance. He
flung himself about like a captured wild animal,
opened his mouth, rattled dufly m nis throat, eveir
leaped up and down on the spot, convulsively
flourishing his elbows. He had but one shoe on;
they had forgotten to restore the other to his foot;
. . . the breast of his kaftan flew open ... his
skull-cap fell off. . .

We all shuddered ; the General remained silent.

" Your Excellency,"— I began again:— " par-
don this unhappy man."

" Impossible. The law enjoins,"— returned
the General abruptly, and not without emotion:

" he will serve as an example to others."

" For God's sake. . . ."

" Mr. Cornet, be so good as to go to your post,"
— said the General, and pointed me to the door
with a commanding gesture.

I saluted and retired. But as I had no actual
post anywhere, I halted at a short distance from
the General's little house.

Two minutes later, Hirschel made his appear-
ance accompanied by Silyavka and three soldiers.
The poor Jew was in a state of stupor, and could
barely move his legs. Silyavka passed me on his

25

u\

way to the camp, and speedily returned with a
rope in his hands. Strange, harsh compassion
was portrayed on his coarse but not malicious
face. At the sight of the rope, the Jew dropped his
hands in despair, squatted down, and began to
sob. The soldiers stood in silence around him, and
stared grimly at the ground. I stepped up to
Hirschel, and spoke to him; he was sobbing like
a child, and did not even look at me. I waved
my hand, went off to my own quarters, flung my-
self on my bed, and closed my eyes. . . .

Suddenly some one ran hastily and noisily into
my tent. I raised my head and beheld Sara.
She seemed wild with fright. She darted toward
me, and seized my hands.

" Come, come, come,"— she repeated, in a
panting voice.

" Whither? Why? Let us remain here."

" To father, to father, be quick .... save
him .... save him!"

" To what father? "

" To my father ; they are going to hang
him. . . ."

" What! Is it possible that Hirschel

" He is my father. ... I will explain every-
thing to thee afterward,"— she added, wringing
her hands in despair:— " only come . . . .
come. . . ."

We ran out of the tent. In the field, on the
road to a solitary birch-tree, a group of soldiers

26

THE JEW

was visible. . . . Sara pointed dumbly at it with
her finger. . . .

" Stop! "—I said suddenly:— " whither are we
running? The soldiers will not obey me."

Sara continued to drag me after her. ... I
must confess that my head reeled.

" But hearken, Sara," I said to her: " what 's
the sense in running thither? I had better go
once more to the General ; let us go together ; per-
haps we can move him by entreaties."

Sara suddenly paused and stared at me like a
mad creature. _____ CX^~ f^^OC^^y "1 j

nderstand me, Sara, for God's sake! I
have not the power to pardon thy father, but
the General can. Let us go to him."

" But in the meanwhile they will hang him,"—
she moaned. . . .

I glanced round. The regimental secretary
stood not far off.

" Ivanoff," I said to him:— "run, please, to
the men yonder: order them to wait; say that I
have gone to entreat the General."

" I obey, sir."

Ivanoff hastened off.

They would not admit us to the General's
presence. In vain did I plead, and argue, at last
even swear .... in vain did poor Sara tear her
npnn the sentries : we were

not admitted.

Sara gazed wildly about her, clutched her head

27

THE JEW

in both hands, and ran headlong across the field
to her father. I ran after her. People stared
at us in amazement. . . .

We hurried up to the soldiers. They were
standing in a circle, and — just imagine, gentle-
men, were jgeiijog at poor HirschdLI I flared
up, and shouted at them. The Jew caught sight
of us, and flung himself on his daughter's neck.
Sara clasped him convulsively.

The poor man imagined that he had been par-
doned. . . . He had already begun to thank me.
... I turned away.

" Your Well-Born,"— he shouted, and clasped
his hands tightly,— " am not I pardoned? "

I made no reply.

" No? "

" No."

"Your Well-Born,"-he mumbled:-" look,
your Well-Born, look .... for she— this young
maiden here— you know— she is my daughter."

" I know,"— I answered, and again turned
away.

" Your Well-Born ! "-he screamed :-" I
did n't go away from the tent! I would n't, for
anything. ..." He paused and shut his eyes
for a moment. ..." I wanted your.^-^Qgey^
your Well-Born, I must 'confess, your money
. . . . but I would n?t for anything . . . ."

I preserved silence. Hirschel was repulsive^to
me— yes, and she was his accomplice

THE JEW

" But now, if you^will^sa.Yejaie,"— said the Jew
in a whisper,— "I will command— I .... you
understand? . . . everything .... I '11 do
anything. . . ."

He trembled like a leaf, and cast a hasty glance
about him. Sara embraced him silently and pas-
sionately.

The adjutant stepped up to them.

"Mr. Cornet,"— he said to me:— "his Ex-
cellency has given orders to arrest you. And
you . ..." he silently pointed out the Jew to
the soldiers . . . . " will immediately . . . ."

Silyavka approached the Jew.

" Feodor Karlitch,"— I said to the adjutant
(five soldiers had come with him) : — " pray, give
orders, at least, that this poor girl shall be re-
moved. . . ."

" Of course. I agree, sir."

The unhappy girl was barely breathing. Hir-
schel muttered something in her ear, in

With difficulty the soldiers freed Sara from
the paternal embrace, and carefully carried her
off about twenty paces. But she suddenly
wrested herself from their hands, and darted to-
ward Hirschel .... Silyavka stopped her.
Sara thrust him aside; a slight flush covered her
face, her eyes flashed, she extended her arms.

'* Then may you be accursed,"— she shrieked in
German":— " accursed, thrice accursed, you and

HE JEW

all your hatefijLry**i With thp r*nrgp af Da-than

and Abiram, with the curse of poverty, of steril-
ity and impotence, of shameful death! May tfie
earth also yawn beneath your feet, ye godless
ones, ye pitiless, bloodthirsty dogs. . . ."

Her head fell backward .... she sank to the
' ground. . . . They lifted her and bore her

The soldiers took Hirschel under the arms.
Then I understood why they had laughed at the

JLiieil JL Uliucra luuu. wiiy Liicy iu*u laugiicu. at tuc

Jew while Sara and I had run in from the camp.
He really was ridiculous, in spite of all the horror
of his situation. The torturing anguish of part-
ing from life, from his daughter, from his family
was expressed in the case of the unhappy Jew
by such strange, hideous contortions of body, by
such shrieks and skips, that we all smiled invol-
untarily, although it was painful, very painful
to us. The poor man was expiring with ter-
ror. . . .

" (3i, 6i, 6i!"— he screamed :—" 6i .... stop!
I will tell ... I will tell much. Mr. Assistant
Quartermaster, you know me. I am an agent, an
honest agent. Don't seize me ; wait a minute more,
one little minute, one tiny little minute— wait!
Let me go : I am a poor Jew. Sara .... where is
Sara? Oh, I know! She is with the Mr. Quar-
ter-Lieutenant " (heaven knows why he pro-
moted me to such an unheard-of rank) . " Mr.
Quarter-Lieutenant! I won't leave the tent!"

THE JEW

(The soldiers tried to take hold of Hirschel . . .
he squealed in a deafening manner, and slipped
through their hands.) - ' Your Excellency! . . .
have mercy on an unhappy father of a family!
I will give you ten ducats, fifteen ducats, your
Excellency! . . ." (They dragged him to the
birch-tree) . . . . " Spare me! zhow merzy!
Mr. Quarter-Lieutenant! Your Illustriousness !
Mr. Over-General and Commander-in-Chief ! "

They placed the noose on the Jew's neck ....
I shut my eyes and set off on a run.

I sat under arrest for a fortnight. I was told
that the wjdaw.ofLthe unlucky Hirschel had come
for the clothing of the dead man. The General
ordered one hundred rubles to be given to her.
I never iiw^Sara again. Twasf 'womiSediT^was
sent to the hospital, and when I recovered, Dant-
zig had already surrendered,— and I overtook my
regiment on the banks of the Rhine.

r-\

81

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

(1844)

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

IN a small, passably-well furnished room, sev-
eral young men were sitting in front of the
fireplace. The winter evening was only just be-
ginning: the samovar was boiling on the table;
conversation had got well under way, and was
passing from one topic to another. They had
begun to talk about remarkable people, and about
the precise manner in which they differ from
ordinary people. Each one expressed his opin-
ion as best he might ; voices were raised, and had
begun to grow noisy. One small, pale man, who
had listened for a long time, as he sipped his tea
and smoked his small cigar, to the idle chatter
of his companions, suddenly rose to his feet and
addressed all of us (I also was among the num-
ber of the disputants) in the following words:

"Gentlemen! all your profound speeches are
good in their way, but futile. Each, as usual,
learns the opinion of his opponent, and each one
sticks to his own conviction. But this is not the
first time we have come together, this is not the
first time we have had a discussion, and, there-
fore, in all probability, we have all managed to

35

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

enunciate our views, and to find out the opinions
of the others. Then what are you making such
a fuss about? "

So saying, the small man carelessly knocked
the ashes from his cigar into the fireplace,
screwed up his eyes, and smiled calmly. We all
fell silent.

" Then what ought we to do, in your opinion? "
— said one of us:— " play cards? go to bed? dis-
perse to our homes? "

"It is pleasant to play cards, and useful to
sleep," — retorted the small man:— "but it is
still rather early to disperse to our homes. But
you have not understood me. Hearken: I pro-
pose that each one of us, things being as they
are, should describe to us some extraordinary
individual, should narrate to us his encounter
with some notable man. Believe me, the very
worst story is far more to the point than the most
capital argument."

We reflected.

" It is strange,"— remarked one of us, a great
joker,— " that, with the exception of myself, I
am not acquainted with a single remarkable man,
and my life is well known to all of you, I believe.
However, if you command. ..."

" No,"— exclaimed another:— "we don't want
that! But come,"— he added, addressing the
small man:— "do thou begin. Thou hast dis-
concerted us all; thou art the most competent

36

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

person. Only, look out — if thy story does not
please us, we shall hiss thee."

" All right,"-he replied.

He took up his stand by the fireplace ; we seated
ourselves around him, and became quiet. The
small man looked at all of us, cast a glance at the
ceiling, and began as follows:

TEN years ago, my dear sirs, I was a student
in Moscow. My father, a virtuous landed pro-
prietor of the steppes, put me in the hands of a
retired German professor, who undertook, for a
consideration of one hundred rubles a month,
to provide me with food and drink, and to look
after my morals. This German was gifted with
an extremely pompous and stately mien; at first
I was a good deal afraid of him. But one fine
evening, on returning home, to my inexpressible
elight I beheld my tutor sitting with three or
four comrades at a round table, on which stood
a considerable number of empty bottles and half-
emptied glasses. On catching sight of me, my
spected tutor rose and, with flourishing of the
ands and hiccoughs, presented me to the hon-
ourable company, which immediately and unani-
mously offered me a glass of punch. This agree-
able spectacle had a refreshing effect on my soul ;
my future presented itself to me in the most at-
tractive shape. And, in fact, thenceforward, be-
ginning with that memorable day, I enjoyed un-

37

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

limited liberty, and did pretty much everything
except thrash my tutor. He had a wife, who
eternally reeked of smoke and cucumber brine;
she was still fairly young, but no longer had a
single front tooth. It is a well-known fact that
all German women speedily lose that indispen-
sable adornment of the human body. I mention
her solely because she fell passionately in love
with me, and stuffed me so with food that I
nearly died.

" Come to the point, come to the point! " — we
all shouted.—" Surely, thou dost not intend to
narrate to us thine own adventures? "

"No, gentlemen! "—replied the small man
with composure:—"! am an ordinary mortal."

So, as I was saying, I lived with my German
like a fighting-cock, as the saying is. I did not
attend the university too diligently, and at home
did absolutely nothing. In a very short time I
had made the acquaintance of all my comrades,
and called them all*" thou." Among the number
of my new friends was one, a tolerably nice, good
young fellow, the son of a former police captain.
His name was Boboff . This Boboif got into the
habit of coming to see me and, apparently, took
a liking to me. And I ... you know, did not
exactly like him, or yet exactly dislike him, only
in a sort of way. ... I must tell you, that in all

38

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

Moscow I had not a single relation, with the
exception of an old uncle, who sometimes asked
me for money. I went nowhere, and was par-
ticularly afraid of women; I also avoided the
acquaintance of the relations of my university
comrades, after one of those relations had pulled
his son's hair in my presence because a button
had got ripped off his uniform, while there were
not more than six buttons on my coat that day.
In comparison with many of my comrades I
passed for a rich man; from time to time my fa-
ther sent me small packages of faded blue bank-
bills,1 and therefore I not only enjoyed independ-
ence, but I always had flatterers and toadies ....
what am I saying? I had? Why, even my bob-
tailed dog Armishka, which, in spite of its setter
pedigree, was so afraid of a shot that the mere
sight of a gun inspired it with indescribable mel-
ancholy—even Armishka had them! Moreover I,
like every other young man, was not exempt from
that dull, internal ferment which generally, after
having broken out in a dozen more or less crude
poems, comes to a very safe and peaceable end.
I wanted something, strove toward something,
and dreamed of something; I admit that I did
not know very clearly at the time precisely of
what I was dreaming. Now I understand what
I missed: — I felt my loneliness, I thirsted for
intercourse with so-called live people; the word

1 The old five-ruble note was blue.— TRANSLATOR.

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

" life " (pronounce it laife) resounded in my soul,
and I listened to that sound with ill-defined dis-
tress. . . .

:< Valerian Nikititch, please give me a cigar." *

Having lighted his cigar, the small man con-
tinued:

One fine morning, Boboff rushed panting to
me:—" Great news, brother, dost thou know it?
Kolosoff has arrived."—" Kolosoff? what sort of
a bird is Mr. Kolosoff? "— " Dost not thou know
him? Andriusha Kolosoff? Come on, my dear
fellow, let 's go to him as quickly as possible.
He returned yesterday evening from an en-
gagement as tutor in a private family."—" But
who is he? " — " A remarkable man, my dear fel-
low, good gracious! " " A remarkable man,"-
said I:— "thou mayest go alone. I '11 stay at
home. I know all about your remarkable men!
Some half -inebriated rhymster with an eternal
rapturous smile!" .... — "Eh, no! Kolosoff
is not that sort of a man." I wanted to remark
to Boboff that Mr. Kolosoff ought to call upon
me; but, I know not why, I obeyed Boboff and
went. Boboff conducted me to one of the filthi-
est, crookedest, and narrowest alleys in Moscow.
. . . The house in which Kolosoff lived was built
after an ancient pattern, artfully and inconve-

Apakhitos, or cigar, with a corn-shuck wrapper.— TRANSLATOR.

40

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

niently. We entered the courtyard; a fat
woman was hanging out clothes on a line
stretched from the house to the fence ....
children were shouting to one another on the
wooden staircase. . . .

"Come to the point! come to the point!"-—
we roared.

" I see, gentlemen, that you do not like the
agreeable, and cling exclusively to the useful.
All right!"

We made our way through a dark and nar-
row passage to KolosofF's chamber; we entered.
You have, probably, an approximate idea of what
the room of a poor student is like. Directly in
front of the door, on a chest of drawers, sat
KolosofF, smoking a pipe. He extended his hand
to BobofF in friendly wise, and bowed politely to
me. I glanced at KolosofF, and at once felt irre-
sistibly attracted to him. Gentlemen! BobofF
was not mistaken: KolosofF really was a re-
markable man. Allow me to describe him to
you somewhat more in detail. . . . He was
rather tall of stature, well built, alert, and very
far from uncomely. His face .... I find it
very difficult, gentlemen, to describe any one's
face. It is easy enough to enumerate all the
separate features; but how impart to another
person that which constitutes the distinguishing
attribute, the essence, in fact, of that face?

41

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

" That which Byron calls ' the music of the
face,' "—remarked one pale, tightly-girt gentle-
man.

" Exactly, sir. . . ."

Therefore, I will confine myself to one comment:
that peculiar " something," to which I have just
alluded, consisted, in Kolosoff's case, of a reck-
lessly jovial and dashing expression of counte-
nance, and of an extremely fascinating smile.
He had no recollection of his parents; he had
been reared in the most economical way in the
house of some distant relation, who was turned
out of the government service for taking bribes.
Until the age of fifteen he had lived in the coun-
try; then Fate brought him to Moscow, to the
house of a deaf old priest's widow. He remained
with her two years, entered the university, and
began to live by giving lessons. He taught his-
tory, geography, and Russian grammar, al-
though he had but a faint conception of those
sciences; but, in the first place, we have insti-
tuted in Russia " guides," which are very useful
for teachers, and, in the second place, the require-
ments of the respected merchants, who entrusted
the education of their children to KolosoiF, were
too circumscribed.

KolosofF was neither a wit nor a humorist ; but
you cannot imagine, gentlemen, how willingly
we all obeyed that man. We involuntarily ad-

42

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

mired him, as it were; his words, his glances, his
movements exhaled such youthful charm that
all of his comrades were over head and ears in
love with him. The professors regarded him as
a far from stupid young fellow, but " not pos-
sessed of great capacity," and lazy. KolosofF's
presence lent special orderliness to our evening
gatherings: in his presence our merriment never
passed over into outrageous turbulence; if we
had all grown sad, that half -childish sadness
was dissipated, in his presence, in a quiet, some-
times quite practical conversation, and never be-
came converted into spleen. You smile, gentle-
men,—I understand your smile: it is a fact that,
later on, many of us turned out decidedly com-
monplace persons. But youth .... youth ....

' ( O talk not to me of a name great in story !

The days of our youth are the days of our glory. ..."

remarked the pale man who had spoken before.
" Devil take it, what a memory you have! and
you always quote from Byron! "— remarked the
narrator.

In a word, gentlemen, Kolosoff was the soul of
our society. I became more strongly attached
to him than I have ever since been to any
woman. And yet, I am not ashamed, even
now, to recall that strange love — precisely that,
love, — because, as I remember, I experienced

43

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

at that time all the torments of that passion-
jealousy, for instance. Kolosoff loved us all
equally, but he favoured in particular a taciturn,
fair-haired, submissive young fellow, Gavriloff
by name. He was hardly ever parted from that
Gavriloff; he frequently exchanged whispers
with him, and in company with him used to disap-
pear from Moscow, God knows whither, for two
or three days at a time. . . . Kolosoff did not like
to be questioned, and I lost myself in conjectures.
It was not simple curiosity which agitated me;
I wanted to become Kolosoff's comrade, his
squire; I was jealous of Gavriloff; I envied him.
I could not possibly explain to myself the cause
of Kolosoff's strange absences. Yet he had none
of that mystery about him whereon youths en-
dowed with self-conceit, pallor, black hair, and
an " expressive " glance are wont to plume them-
selves, nor any of that fictitious indifference, be-
neath which vast powers are supposed to be con-
cealed; no: he was entirely above-board, as the
saying is; but when passion took possession of
him, a vehement, impetuous activity made its ap-
pearance. Only, he did not waste his strength
in vain; never, under any circumstances what-
ever, became stilted. By the way, gentlemen
.... tell the truth: has it not happened to you
to sit and smoke your pipe with a mournfully-
majestic aspect, as though you had just de-
cided upon some grand feat, while you are sim-

44

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

ply revolving in your mind what colour your
new trousers shall be? .... But the point is,
that I was the first to observe in the cheery and
cordial Kolosoff these involuntary, passionate
impulses. . . . Not without cause is it said that
love is penetrating. I made up my mind— cost
what it might— to worm myself into his confi-
dence. I had no object in dangling after Kolo-
soff; I worshipped him in so childish a manner
that he could not cherish any doubt as to my
devotion .... but, to my indescribable vexa-
tion, I was forced at last to the conviction that
Kolosoff avoided more intimate relations with
me, that he found my unsolicited affection op-
pressive. On one occasion, with obvious dis-
pleasure, he asked me to lend him some money—
and on the following day he repaid it with de-
risive gratitude. During the course of the en-
tire winter, my relations with Kolosoff did not un-
dergo so much as a hair's-breadth of change; I
often compared myself with Gavriloff— and
could not understand how he was better than I.
.... But all of a sudden everything was
changed. In the middle of April Gavriloff fell
ill and died in the arms of Kolosoff, who had not
left his chamber for a single instant, and went
nowhere for a whole week after his death. We
all grieved for poor Gavriloff. That pale, taci-
turn man seemed to have had a presentiment of
his end. I, also, sincerely regretted his loss, but

45

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

my heart sank within me, and waited for some-
thing. ... On one never-to-be-forgotten even-
ing .... I was lying alone on my divan and
staring senselessly at the ceiling .... when
some one hastily threw open the door of my room
and halted on the threshold; I raised my head:
before me stood Kolosoff. He entered slowly
and sat down beside me.—" I have come to thee,"
—he began, in a decidedly dull voice, " because
thou lovest me more than all the others. ... I
have lost my best friend " — his voice trembled
slightly—" and I feel lonely. . . . None of you
knew GavrilofF .... you did not know him."
. . . He rose, strode about the room and swiftly
approached me. ..." Wouldst thou like to
take his place with me? " he said, and gave me
his hand. I sprang to my feet, and flung myself
on his breast. My genuine joy touched him. . . .
I did not know what to say; I sighed. . . . Ko-
losoff gazed at me and laughed softly. Tea was
served. After tea he began to talk about Gavri-
loff ; I learned that that timid and gentle lad had
saved Kolosoff 's life; and I was obliged to ad-
mit to myself that, had I been in Gavriloff's
place, I could not have refrained from chattering
-from boasting of my good luck. The clock
struck eight. Kolosoff rose, went to the window,
drummed on the glass, turned swiftly toward
me, tried to say something .... and sat down
silently on a chair. I took his hand. — " Kolosoff !

46

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

really, really, I deserve thy confidence! "—He
looked me straight in the eye.— :' Well, if that
is so," he said at last,— " take thy cap, and let us
go."—" Whither?"— " Gavriloff was not wont to
ask me."— I instantly fell silent.—" Dost thou
know how to play cards? " — ' Yes."

We left the house, hired a cab for the *** gate.
At the gate we alighted. Kolosoff walked in
advance very swiftly; I followed him. We pro-
ceeded along the highway. After traversing a
verst,1 Kolosoff turned aside. In the mean-
time, night had descended. On the right, athwart
the mist, the lights twinkled, and the innumerable
churches of the great city reared themselves
alofjt; on the left, by the side of a forest, two
white horses were grazing in a meadow; in
front of us stretched fields covered with greyish
exhalations. I walked in silence behind Kolo-
sofF. Suddenly he halted, extended his hand in
front of him, and said: " Yonder is the place to
which we are bound." I descried a small, dark
house; two tiny windows glimmered faintly
through the fog. "In that house," pursued Ko-
losoff, " dwells a certain Sidorenko, a retired lieu-
tenant, with his sister, an old maid — and his
daughter. I will give thee out as my relation—
thou wilt sit down and play cards with them."
I silently nodded my head. I wanted to prove to
Kolosoff that I could hold my tongue quite as

1 Two thirds of a mile. — TRANSLATOR.

47

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

effectually as Gavriloff. . . . But, I must con-
fess, I was powerfully tormented with curiosity.
On reaching the porch of the little house, I per-
ceived in the lighted window the graceful form
of a young girl. . . . She seemed to be watching
for us, and immediately disappeared. We en-
tered a dark, cramped anteroom. A crooked,
hunchbacked little old woman emerged to re-
ceive us, and stared at me in surprise. " Is Ivan
Semyonitch at home? " asked Kolosoff. " Yes,
sir."—" Yes, I 'm at home! " rang out a thick,
masculine voice from the other side of the door.
We passed on into the hall,1 if a long, fairly
dirty room can be called a hall, where a tall, an-
cient piano cowered submissively in a corner near
the stove; several chairs were ranged along the
walls, which had once been yellow. In the middle
of the room stood a man of fifty, tall of stature,
stooping, and clad in a greasy dressing-gown.
I took a more attentive look at him; his face was
surly, his hair was worn in a brush, his forehead
was low, he had grey eyes, a huge moustache,
thick lips. . . .

1 'T is a fine goose! " I said to myself.

' We have n't seen you for a long time, An-
drei Nikolaitch," he said, stretching out to Ko-
losoff his hideous red hand— " for a long time!
And where is Sevastyan Sevastyanovitch? "

TA "hall' 'in Russian houses is a combination music- and ball-
room, which is also sometimes used as a dining-room, and a play-room
in bad weather.— TRANSLATOR.

48

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

" Gavriloif is dead," answered Kolosoff,
sadly.

" Dead ! just think of that ! And who is this ? "

" A relation of mine— I have the honour to
introduce him:— Nikolai Alex "

" Good, good," Ivan Semyonitch interrupted
him:— "I 7m glad, very glad to make his ac-
quaintance. And does he play cards? "

" Yes, of course he does ! "

"Well, that 's fine; we '11 sit down at once.
Hey, there! Matryona Semyonovna— where art
thou? Fetch the card-table— and be quick about
it! .... And tea! "

With these words, Mr. Sidorenko went into
the next room. Kolosoff looked at me.—
" Hearken," said he: " God knows how ashamed
I am! " .... I shut his mouth with my hand.

" Well, my dear fellow — what 's your name?
—please come hither," shouted Ivan Semyonitch.
I went into the drawing-room. It was even
smaller than the dining-room. On the walls
hung some hideous portraits; in front of the
divan, from which the shredded linden-bast
stuffing projected in several places, stood a green
table ; on the divan sat Ivan Semyonitch, already
engaged in shuffling the cards; by his side, on
the extreme edge of an arm-chair, sat a raw-
boned woman in a white mob-cap and a black
gown, with a sallow, wrinkled face, tiny blear
eyes, and thin, cat-like lips.

49

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

" Here,"— said Ivan Semyonitch, " let me in-
troduce this man ! the former one is dead ; Andrei
Nikolaitch has brought another ; let us see how he
plays!"— The old woman made an awkward
bow, and indulged in a fit of coughing. I cast a
glance about me; Kolosoff was no longer in the
room.—" Stop that coughing, Matryona Semyo-
novna— sheep cough,"— growled Sidorenko. I
sat down; the game began. Mr. Sidorenko flew
into a frightful passion and raged at the smallest
mistake on my part; he showered reproaches on
his sister; but she, evidently, had succeeded in
getting used to her brother's amiable remarks,
and merely blinked her eyes. When, however,
he declared to Matryona Semyonovna that
she was " antichrist " the poor old woman flared

up;<

1 You were the death of your spouse, Anfisa
Karpovna, Ivan Semyonitch," she said angrily;
" but you sha'n't be the death of me! "

"You don't say so?"

"No; you sha'n't!"

'You don't say so?"

' No; you sha'n't be the death of me! "

They continued to wrangle after this fashion
for quite a long time. My position, as you will
please to observe, was not only not enviable, but
even simply stupid; I did not understand why
Kolosoff had taken it into his head to bring me.
. ... I had never been a good player; but on

50

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

this occasion I was conscious that I was so bad
as to be beneath criticism.

" No! " the retired lieutenant kept incessantly
repeating:— " you are far inferior to Se vasty a-
nitch! No, you are playing heedlessly! "—Of
course, I inwardly consigned him to all the
fiends. This torture lasted for two hours; they
stripped me of every kopek. Just before the
end of the last rubber, I heard a faint sound be-
hind my chair, — glanced round, and beheld K6-
losoiF; by his side stood a young girl of seven-
teen, gazing at me with a barely perceptible
smile.— " Fill my pipe, Varya,"— said Ivan Se-
myonitch. The girl immediately fluttered off into
the next room. She was not very pretty, was
quite pale and thin; but neither before nor since
have I ever seen such eyes or such hair. We
played the rubber out, after a fashion ; I paid up.
Sidorenko lighted his pipe, and roared:

:< Well, now 't is time to sup ! "

KolosofF presented me to Varya, that is,
to Varvara Ivanovna, the daughter of Ivan Se-
myonitch. Varya was embarrassed; and I was
embarrassed. But Kolosoif, according to his
wont, brought everything and everybody into
order in a few moments: he seated Varya at the
piano, requested her to play a dance-tune, and
began to vie with Ivan Semyonitch in executing,
a kazak dance. The lieutenant shouted, stamped,
and executed with his feet such incredible steps

51

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

that Matryona Semyonovna herself shrieked
with laughter, and went off to her own room up-
stairs. The hunchbacked woman set the table;
we sat down to supper. After supper, Kolosoff
narrated various nonsensical things; the lieuten-
ant laughed deafeningly ; I surveyed Varya from
the corners of my eyes. She never took her eyes
from Kolosoff .... and merely from the ex-
pression of her face I was able to divine that she
loved him, and was beloved by him. Her lips
were slightly parted, her head drooped slightly
forward, a faint blush played over her whole
countenance; from time to time she heaved a
profound sigh, suddenly dropped her eyes, and
laughed softly. ... I rejoiced for Kolosoff.
. . . And yet I was envious, devil take it! ....
After supper, Kolosoff and I immediately took
our caps, which, however, did not in the least
prevent the lieutenant's saying to us, yawning
the while:— "You have stayed too long, gen-
tlemen; 't is time for you to cease abusing our
kindness." Varya escorted Kolosoff to the ante-
room.— ' When will you come again, Andrei
Nikolaevitch? " she whispered to him.

" A few days hence, without fail."

" Bring him too," she added, with a very art-
ful smile.

" Certainly, certainly "

" No, I thank you! " I said to myself. . . .

On our way home, I learned the following.
52

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

Six months previously, Kolosoff had made the
acquaintance of Mr. Sidorenko in a decidedly
strange manner. One rainy evening, Kolosoff
was returning home from hunting, and was
already nearing the *** gate, when suddenly, at
a short distance from the road, he heard groans,
interspersed with oaths. He had his gun with him :
without pausing long to reflect, he bent his steps
straight toward the shouts, and found on the
ground a man with a sprained ankle. This man
was Mr. Sidorenko. With great difficulty he
led him home, and entrusted him to the care of his
frightened sister and daughter, then ran for a
doctor. ... In the meanwhile, morning had
come; Kolosoff could hardly stand on his feet
from fatigue. With the permission of Matryona
Semyonovna, he threw himself on the divan in
the drawing-room, and slept until eight o'clock.
On awakening, he wished to set off homeward
immediately; but they detained him, and gave
him tea. During the night he had succeeded in
catching two fleeting glimpses of Varvara Iva-
novna's pale little face; he paid no special atten-
tion to her, but in the morning he took a de-
cided liking to her. Matryona Semyonovna
loquaciously lauded and thanked Kolosoff; Vary a
sat silent, pouring out the tea, rarely cast a glance
at him, and handed him now a cup, now the
cream, now the sugar-bowl, with timid and bash-
ful attentiveness. At that time the lieutenant

53

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

awoke, in a loud voice demanded his pipe, and
after having held his peace for a while, began
to shout: *' Sister! hey, there, sister! " Matryona
went to him in his bedroom.— ' Well, has that fel-
low .... what 's his name? the devil only knows!
—has he gone? "— " No, I am still here," re-
plied Kolosoff, stepping to the door:— " are you
better now? "— " Yes," replied the lieutenant:-
" come here, my dear fellow." Kolosoff entered.
Sidorenko stared at him, and said reluctantly:
"Well, thanks; drop in and see me some time
or other— what 's your name, damn it? " " Ko-
losofF," replied Andrei.— ;' Well, good, good,
drop in ; and now there 's no use in your hanging
on here; they 're expecting you at home, I sup-
pose."— Kolosoff left the room, took leave of
Matryona Semyonovna, made his bow to Varvara
Ivanovna, and returned home. From that day
forth he began to go to Ivan Semyonitch's house;
at first rarely, then more and more frequently.
The summer arrived : he would take his gun, put
on his game-bag, and set off as though for the
chase; he would drop in to see the retired lieu-
tenant—and sit there until evening.

Varvara Ivanovna's father had served for
five-and-twenty years in the army, had accumu-
lated a little money, and bought himself a few
desyatinas * of land a couple of versts from Mos-
cow. He was barely able to read and write ; but,

1 A desyatina equals 2.70 acres.— TRANSLATOR.

54

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

despite his outward clumsiness and coarseness,
he was intelligent and crafty, and even some-
what of a knave at times, like many liittle Rus-
sians. He was a frightful egoist, stubborn as a
bull, and, taken as a whole, far from amiable,
especially with strangers; I even had occasion to
note in him something akin to scorn for the whole
human race. He denied himself nothing, like
a spoiled child, did not care a rap for anybody,
and lived " at his ease." He and I once fell into
conversation about marriages in general. " Mar-
riage .... marriage," said he:— " well, to whom
shall I marry my girl, damn it? well, and what
for? That her mean little husband may beat her,
as I used to beat my deceased wife? And then,
what do I make by it? " Such was retired lieu-
tenant Ivan Semyonitch. Kolosoff frequented
his house, not on his account, of course, but for
the sake of his daughter. One fine evening, An-
drei was sitting in the garden with her, and
chatting about something or other. Ivan Se-
myonitch approached them, cast a glum look at
Varya, and called Andrei to one side. "Hearken,
my good fellow," he said to him, " I perceive that
thou findest it agreeable to chatter with my only-
begotten ; but it is dull for me, the old man. Just
bring some one with thee, otherwise I shall have
no one with whom to toss the cards about; dost
hear me? I won't admit thee if thou comest
alone." On the following day Kolosoff presented

55

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

himself with Gavriloff, and poor Sevastyan Se-
vastyanitch played cards every evening during
the autumn and winter with the retired lieu-
tenant; and that worthy man treated him without
ceremony, as the saying is; in other words, very
roughly. And now, gentlemen, you have prob-
ably comprehended why Kolosoff , after Gavri-
loff's death, took me with him to Ivan Semyo-
nitch's. Having communicated to me these
particulars, Kolosoff added: " I love Varya; she
is a very charming girl; she has taken a liking to
thee." '

I think I have forgotten to inform you, my
dear sirs, that up to that time I had been afraid
of women and had shunned them, although it
did happen that when I was alone I dreamed for
hours at a time of trysts, of love, of mutual love,
and so forth. Varvara Ivanovna was the first
young girl with whom necessity had forced me to
speak,— precisely that, necessity. Varya was an
ordinary girl,— and yet, there are very few such
girls in holy Russia. You ask me, " Why? " Be-
cause I never observed in her anything stiff, un-
natural, affected; because she was a simple,
frank, somewhat melancholy creature; because
she could not be called " a young lady." I liked
her quiet smile; I liked her artlessly-ringing
voice, her light and merry laugh, her intent,
though not in the least "profound" glances.
This child promised nothing; but you involun-

56

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

tarily admired her, as you admired the sudden,
soft call of the oriole at evening in the lofty,
gloomy birch coppice. I must confess that at
any other time I should have passed by such a
creature with considerable indiff erence ; I am
in no mood now for solitary evening strolls, for

orioles; but then

Gentlemen, I think that you, like all nice
men, have been in love at least once in the course
of your lives, and have learned, by personal ex-
perience, how love germinates and grows in the
human heart; and therefore I will not enlarge
overmuch upon what went on within me at
that time. Kolosoff and I went quite fre-
quently to Ivan Semyonitch's ; and, although the
accursed cards more than once drove me to utter
despair, yet in the mere proximity of the be-
loved woman (I had fallen in love with Varya),
there is a certain strange, sweet, torturing de-
light. I did not attempt to stifle this dawning
sentiment; moreover, when, at last, I made up
my mind to call that sentiment by its name, it
was already too strong. ... I silently cherished,
and timidly concealed my love. This oppressive
fermentation of silent passion pleased me. My
sufferings deprived me neither of sleep nor of
appetite; but for whole days together I felt in
my breast that peculiar physical sensation, which
arose within me when, for example, Kolosoff re-
turned with Varya from the garden, and her

57

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

whole face exhaled rapturous devotion, and lan-
guor from excess of bliss. . . . She lived his life
to such a degree, she was so permeated with him,
that she imperceptibly acquired his habits, looked
in the same way, laughed in the same way as he.
.... I can imagine what moments she spent
with Andrei, for what felicity she was indebted
to him. . . . And he .... Kolosoff did not
lose his liberty ; in her absence, I do not think that
he even called her to mind; he was still the same
care-free, jolly, and happy man, as we had al-
ways known him.

So, as I have already told you, Kolosoff and I
went pretty often to Ivan Semyonitch's. Some-
times (when he was not in the humour) the re-
tired lieutenant did not set me down to cards;
in that case, he would silently slink off to a cor-
ner, contract his brows in a frown, and stare at
every one like a wolf. The first time I de-
lighted him by my indulgence; but afterward, I
would sometimes begin to urge him to sit down
to a hand at whist; the role of a third person
is so unbearable! I embarrassed KolosofF and
Varya so disagreeably, although they assured
each other that there was no reason why they
should stand on ceremony in my presence! . . .

In the meanwhile, time flowed on and on.
.... They were happy. ... I am not fond
of describing other people's happiness. But, af-
ter a while, I began to notice that Varya's child-

,58

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

ish rapture was gradually beginning to give way
to a more womanly, a more disquieting feeling.
I began to surmise that the new tune had begun
to tinkle in the old fashion, that is to say, that
Kolosoff .... was growing .... slightly cold.
This discovery delighted me, I must admit ; I will
confess that I did not feel the slightest indigna-
tion against Andrei.

The intervals between our visits became
longer and longer. . . . Varya began to wel-
come us with tear-swollen eyes. Reproaches
made themselves heard. ... I would ask Ko-
losoff, with feigned indifference: "Well, shall
we go to Ivan Semyonitch's to-day? " . . . . He
would stare coldly at me, and say calmly: " No,
we shall not." It sometimes seemed to me that he
smiled in a wily way when he talked with me
about Varya. . . . Altogether, I did not fill
Gavriloff 's place with him. . . . Gavriloff was
a thousand times more good-natured and stupid
than I was.

Now permit me a slight digression. In
speaking to you about my university comrades,
I did not mention a certain Shshtchitoff. This
Shshtchitoff was in his six-and-thirtieth year;
he had been numbered among the students for
ten years already. Even now I behold vividly
before me his rather long, pale face, his little
brown eyes, his long, aquiline nose with its tip
twisted awry, his thin, mocking lips, his pom-

59

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

pous crest of hair, his chin, which wallowed in a
self -satisfied way in a broad, shabby necker-
chief of the hue of the raven's wing, his cuffs
with brass buttons, his blue frock-coat worn
open on the breast, his motley-hued waistcoat.
.... I seem to hear his disagreeable, quavering
laugh. . . . He ran about everywhere, distin-
guished himself at every possible sort of a " danc-
ing-class." .... I remember that I could not
listen without a shudder to his cynical stories.
.... Kolosoff one day compared him to an
unswept room in a Russian eating-house ....
a frightful comparison! And yet, that man pos-
sessed an immense amount of brains, common
sense, observation, and sagacity. . . . He some-
times astounded us with some word so practical,
so just, so keen, that we all involuntarily fell
silent, and stared at him in amazement. But,
you know, a Russian man really does n't care in
the least whether he has uttered a bit of non-
sense or a sensible thing. Shshtchitoff was par-
ticularly feared by those conceited, dreamy and
incapable striplings who painfully hatch out,
after whole days of effort, the most detestable
rhymes, read them in drawling tones to their
" friends," and despise all positive knowledge.
One of these he simply drove out of Moscow by
incessantly repeating to him two lines of his own
composition:

"Man-
That unflayed skeleton. ..."
60

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

He had rhymed "skeleton" with "man."1
Yet Shshtchitoff himself did nothing, either, and
learned nothing. . . . But that is quite in the
usual order of things. Well, so that Shshtchitoff ,
God knows why, began to jeer at my romantic
attachment to Kolosoff. On the first occasion,
I consigned him to the devil, with noble indig-
nation; on the second occasion, I informed him,
with cold scorn, that he was not capable of
judging our friendship — but I did not drive
him away; and when, as he took leave of me, he
remarked that I did not even dare to praise Ko-
losoff without the latter's permission, I felt
vexed; Shshtchitoff 's last words had effected a
lodgment in my soul.— For more than two
weeks I had not seen Varya. . . . Pride, love,
confused anticipation— a multitude of different
emotions were stirring within me. ... I waved
my hand in despair, and with a frightful sink-
ing at the heart, I set off alone to Ivan Semyo-
nitch's.

I know not how I made my way to the fa-
miliar little house; I remember that I sat down
several times to rest on the road— not from fa-
tigue, but from emotion. I entered the anteroom,
and before I had managed to utter a single word
the door from the hall flew open, and Varya ran
out to meet me.

"At last!"— she said in a trembling voice; —
" but where is Andrei NikoMevitch? "

1 Skeleton— s kelet ; man— tchelovyek.— TRANSLATOR.

61

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

" KolosofF has not come "I muttered with

an effort.

" He has not come! "—she repeated.

" Yes ... he bade me say to you that ....
he was detained. . . ." I positively did not know
myself what I was saying, and dared not lift my
eyes. Varya stood motionless and silent before
me. I darted a glance at her; she had turned
her head aside; two large tears were rolling
slowly down her cheeks. In the expression of her
face there was so much sudden, bitter grief, the
conflict between modesty, distress, and confi-
dence in me was so touchingly depicted in the
involuntary movement of her poor little head,
that my heart sank within me. I advanced a
little .... she shuddered swiftly and ran
away. In the hall Ivan Semyonitch met me.

" What 's the meaning of this, my dear fel-
low? Are you alone, sir? " he asked me, screwing
up his left eye strangely.

" I am, sir," I replied in confusion.

Sidorenko suddenly burst into a guffaw, and
retreated into the adjoining room. Never be-
fore had I found myself in so utterly stupid a
situation,— the devil knows how hateful it was!
But there was no help for it. I began to pace
back and forth in the hall.—" What was that
fat boar laughing at? "—I thought.

Matryona Semyonovna emerged into the hall
with a stocking in her hands, and seated her-

62

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

self by the little window. I began to chat with
her.

In the meantime tea was served. Varya came
down-stairs, pale and sorrowful. The retired
lieutenant jested about Kolosoff.

" I know,"— said he, " what sort of a goose
he is: now, I suppose, you could n't lure him
hither even with a kalatch! " 1

Varya hastily rose and withdrew. Ivan Se-
myonitch gazed after her, whistling roguishly the
while. I cast an angry glance at him.—" Can it
be,"— I thought, "that he knows all?" And
the lieutenant, as though divining my thoughts,
nodded his head affirmatively.

Immediately after tea I rose and took my leave.

:< We shall see you again, my dear fellow,"
remarked the lieutenant. I did not say a single
word in reply. ... I had simply begun to be
afraid of that man.

On the porch some one's cold, trembling hand
clasped my hand; I glanced round: it was
Varya.

" I must speak with you," she whispered.—

Come as early as possible to-morrow, straight

the garden. Papa takes a nap after dinner;
no one will disturb us."

I pressed her hand in silence, and we parted.

On the following day, at three o'clock in the

1 A peculiarly delicious wheaten roll, which is made with
particular skill in Moscow.— TRANSLATOR.

63

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

afternoon, I was already in Ivan Semyonitch's
garden. I had not seen Kolosoff that morning,
although he had dropped in to call. It was an
autumn day, grey, but tranquil and warm. The
slender yellow blades of grass swayed mourn-
fully over the faded lawn; alert tomtits were
hopping over the naked, dark-brown branches of
the hickory-tree; belated larks were running hur-
riedly along the paths somewhere; a hare was
cautiously making his way through the vege-
tables; the herd was roaming idly over the stub-
ble-field. I found Varya in the garden, under
an apple-tree, seated on a bench ; she wore a dark,
somewhat rumpled gown; unfeigned grief was
expressed in her weary glance, and in her care-
lessly-arranged hair.

I sat down by her side. Both of us maintained
silence. For a long time she twirled in her hands
some flower or other, then bent her head, and said:

" Andrei Nikolaevitch. . . ."

I immediately observed from the movement
of her lips that she was preparing to weep, and
I began to comfort her, to assure her f ervently
of Andrei's devotion. . . . She heard me out,
shook her head sorrowfully, uttered unintel-
ligible words, and immediately relapsed into
silence, but did not weep. The first moments,
which I had dreaded most of all, passed off quite
successfully. Gradually, she began to talk about
Andrei.

64

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

"I know he no longer loves me now,"— she kept
repeating: " God bless him! I cannot think how I
am to live without him. ... I do not sleep at
night, I weep continually. . . . But what am I
to do? .... What am I to do?" .... Her
eyes filled with tears. " He seemed so good to
me .... and now . . . ."

Varya wiped away her tears, coughed, and
drew herself up.

" It does not seem so very long," she went on,
" since he read to me out of Pushkin, since he sat
with me on this bench. ..."

Varya's ingenuous chatter touched me; I lis-
tened in silence to her avowal; my soul slowly
became imbued with a bitter, torturing felicity;
I never took my eyes from that pale face, from
those long, wet eyelashes, from those half -parted,
slightly-parched lips. . . . And yet, I felt ....
Would you like to listen to a brief psychological
analysis of my sentiments at that moment? In
the first place, I was tormented by the thought
that I was not beloved, that it was not I who was
causing Varya to suffer ; in the second place, I was
delighted by her confidence; I knew that she
would be grateful for my having furnished her
the possibility of putting her grief into words;
in the third place, I inwardly registered a vow
to bring Kolosoff and Varya together again, and
the consciousness of my magnanimity comforted
me .... in the fourth place, I hoped by my self-

65

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

sacrifice to touch Varya's heart— and then ....
you see, I do not spare myself; thank God, it is
time! But now, the clock on the belfry of the
*** monastery struck five; evening was swiftly
drawing on. Varya hastily rose to her feet,
thrust into my hand a tiny note, and went to-
ward the house. I overtook her, promised her to
bring Andrei, and darted swiftly, as though I
were a happy lover, through the wicket-gate into
the fields. On the note, in uncertain chirography,
were inscribed the words: " To my dear sir, An-
drei Nikolaevitch."

Early on the morning of the following day,
I set out for KolosofF. I must confess that,
although I had assured myself that my in-
tentions were not only noble, but even, as a
whole, filled with magnanimous self-sacrifice, I
nevertheless was conscious of a certain awkward-
ness, even of timidity. Sitting with him was a
certain Puzyritzyn, a student who had failed to
pass his examinations, one of the composers of
romances known under the name of " Moscow "
or " popular." 1 Puzyritzyn was an extremely
good-natured and timid man, and was eternally
making ready to enter the hussars, in spite of his
three-and-thirty years. He belonged to the cate-
gory of people who find it unavoidably necessary
to give utterance once every twenty-four hours

1 Literally, grey, which is one appellation for the common
people. —TRANSLATOR.

66

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

to some such phrase as, " all the most beautiful
things perish at the moment of their sumptuous
blossoming, — such is the fate of the beautiful in
this world," so that, during all the rest of the
day, they may with befitting agreeability smoke
a pipe in the circle of their " good comrades."
For that reason, also, he was called an idealist.
So then, this Puzyritzyn was sitting with K6-
losoff, and reading to him some " fragment."
I set to listening : the question concerned a young
man who loves a girl, murders her, and so forth.
At last Puzyritzyn came to an end, and went
away. His absurd composition, his rapturously
bawling voice, his presence, as a whole, had
aroused Kolosoff's jeering irritability. I felt
that I had come at a bad time, but there was no
help for it; without any prefatory remarks, I
handed Varya's note to Andrei.

Kolosoff stared at me in amazement, broke
the seal of the note, ran his eyes over it, and pre-
served silence for a while, smiling composedly.
-"Well, now!"— he ejaculated at last.— " So
lou hast been to Ivan Semyonitch's? "

1 Yes, I was there alone yesterday evening,"—
I replied abruptly and decisively.

" Ah! " —remarked Kolosoff with a sneer, and
lighted his pipe.

" Andrei,"— I said to him,—" art not thou
sorry for her? . . . If thou couldst but have seen
her tears. ..." And I began eloquently to de-

67

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

scribe my visit of the preceding day. I really was
much affected.

Kolosoff maintained silence, and smoked his
pipe.

" Didst thou sit with her under the apple-tree
in the garden? "—he said at last. " I remember
that in May I sat with her on that same bench.
.... The apple-tree was in blossom; now and
then the fresh, white flowers fell on us; I held
both of Varya's hands .... we were happy
then. . . . Now the apple-tree is out of bloom,
and the apples on it are sour."

I flared up with noble indignation, and began
to upbraid Andrei for his coldness, his cruelty;
I began to argue with him that he had no right
to abandon so suddenly a young girl in whom
he had aroused a multitude of new impressions ; I
entreated him at least to go and take leave of
Varya. Kolosoff listened to me until I had fin-
ished.

" Let us assume,"— he said to me, when, agi-
tated and weary, I flung myself into an easy-
chair:— " let us assume that it is permissible for
thee, as my friend, to condemn me. . . . But
listen now to my justification, although . . . ."
» Here he paused awhile, and smiled strangely.
' Varya is a very fine girl,"— he continued,
" and is guilty of no wrong whatsoever toward
me. . . . On the contrary I am indebted to her
for a very great deal. I have ceased to visit her

68

=

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

for a very simple reason— I have ceased to love
her. . . ."

" But why? but why? " -I interrupted him.

" God knows why. So long as I loved her, I
belonged wholly to her; I did not think of the
future, and shared everything, my whole life
with her .... now that passion has died out in
me. . . . What then? dost thou bid me dissimu-
late, pretend to be in love, pray? And why?
Out of pity for her? If she is an honest girl, she
herself will not desire such alms, but if she is glad
to console herself with my .... sympathy, the
devil 's in her! "

Kolosoff's heedlessly sharp expressions of-
fended me, possibly all the more because I was
secretly in love with the woman in question. . . ,
I flared up.

"Enough,"— I said to him:— "stop that! I
know why thou hast ceased to visit Varya."

" Why is it? "

( Taniusha has forbidden thee." In uttering
these words, I fancied that I had violently of-
fended Andrei. This Taniusha was an ex-

emely " light " young lady, black-haired and
swarthy, aged five-and-twenty, as free and easy
and as clever as the devil, a ShshtchitofF in female
garb. Kolosoff quarrelled with her and made
peace with her five times a month. She loved
him passionately, although at times, when they
were estranged, she vowed and swore that she

69

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

thirsted for his blood .... and Andrei could
not get along without her. Kolosoff looked at
me and calmly remarked: " Perhaps."

" It is not ' perhaps/ but certainly! " I yelled.

At last my reproaches bored Kolosoff . . . .
He rose and put on his cap.

" Whither away? "

" For a stroll; you and Puzyritzyn have given
me a headache."

" Art thou angry with me? "

" No," he answered, with his charming smile,
and offered me his hand.

"At any rate, what dost thou bid me say to
Varya?" "

" What? " .... He pondered for a while.

" She told thee," he said,—" that she and I had
read Pushkin together. . . . Remind her of one
of Pushkin's verses."

" Of which one? " I asked impatiently.

"Why, of this one:

'That which has been shall never be again.' "

With these words he left the room. I followed
him; on the stairs he paused.

"And is she greatly grieved?" he asked me,
pulling his cap down over his eyes.
'Yes, very greatly!" . . .

" Poor girl ! Do thou console her, Nikolai ; for
thou lovest her."

70

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

" Yes, I have become attached to her, of
course. ..."

"Thou lovest her,"— repeated KolosofF, look-
ing me straight in the eye. I turned away in
silence; we parted.

On reaching home, I was, as it were, in a fever.

"I have fulfilled my duty," I thought; " I have
conquered my own self-love ; I have advised An-
drei to make up with Varya! ! . . Now I have
rights: he that will not when he may, when he
would he shall have nay." Nevertheless, Andrei's
indifference wounded me. He was not jealous
of me, he had ordered me to console her. . . .
" But is Varya such an ordinary girl? .... Is she
not worthy even of compassion? .... People
will be found who will understand how to prize
that which you despise, Andrei Nikolaitch! ....
But what 's the use? Surely, she does not love
me. . . . Yes, she does not love me now; up to
this time she has not utterly lost hope that
KolosofF will return. . . . But later on ....
who knows? my devotion will touch her, I shall
renounce all claims. ... I shall give her the
whole of myself, irrevocably. . . . Varya! is it
possible that thou wilt not come to love me ...
never? .... never? . . ."

That was the sort of speeches which your
humble servant uttered in the capital city Mos-
cow, in the year one thousand eight hundred and
thirty-three, in the house of his respected tutor.

71

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

I wept .... I languished. ... The weather
was atrocious ... a fine, drizzling rain streamed
with a thin, persistent squeak down the window-
panes; damp, dark-grey clouds hung motion-
lessly over the town. I dined in haste, made no
reply to the anxious queries of the good-natured
German woman, who began to whimper herself
at the sight of my red, swollen eyes (German
women— as everybody knows— are always ready
to cry) ; I behaved in a very ruthless manner to
my tutor .... and immediately after dinner,
I set off for Ivan Semyonitch's house. . . .
Having asserted my sovereign mastery over a
shaky, wretched little drozhky, I asked myself:
"What now? Shall I tell Varya everything,
just as it is, or shall I continue to be wily, and
wean her, little by little, from Andrei? " . . . .
I drove to Ivan Semyonitch's house, and still did
not know what to decide upon. ... I found the
whole family in the hall. Varya turned fright-
fully pale when she saw me, but did not stir from
her place; Sidorenko began to talk to me in a
peculiarly jeering sort of manner. I answered
him as best I could, from time to time darting a
glance at Varya, and almost unconsciously im-
parted to my countenance a dejectedly pensive
expression. Again the lieutenant made up a
whist-party. Varya seated herself near the win-
dow, and did not move.

"Thou art bored now, I suppose? "—Ivan
72

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

Semyonitch asked her a score of times. At last
I succeeded in snatching a suitable moment.

" You are alone again," Varya whispered to
me.

"Yes," I replied gloomily:— " and, in all
probability, for a long time."

She swiftly dropped her head.

" Did you give him my note? " she said, in a
barely audible voice.

" Yes."

"Well?"

She sighed. I glanced at her. ... A mali-
cious joy suddenly flashed up within me.

" He bade me tell you," I enunciated, paus-
ing between my words, ' 'that which has been
shall never be again.' '

Varya clutched at her heart with her left
hand, extended her right in front of her; her
whole form swayed, and she hastily left the
room. I started to run after her. . . . Ivan
Semyonitch stopped me. I remained another
half hour with him, but Varya did not make her
appearance. On my way home, I felt conscience-
stricken .... conscience-stricken toward Va-
rya, toward Andrei, toward myself. Although,
they say, it is better to hew off at one blow a suf-
fering member than to weary a sick person
for a long time, yet who had given me the right
so ruthlessly to stab the heart of the poor young
girl? .... For a long time I could not get

73

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

to sleep .... but fall asleep I did at last. In
general, I must repeat, " love " never once has
deprived me of my sleep.

I began to visit Ivan Semyonitch's house
quite frequently: Kolosoff and I met, as before,
but neither he nor I mentioned Varya. My re-
lations to her were of a decidedly strange nature.
She had become attached to me with that affec-
tion which precludes all possibility of love; she
could not fail to notice my fervent sympathy,
and chatted willingly with me .... about what,
do you think?— about Kolosoff, about Kolosoff
alone! That man had taken possession of her
to such a degree that somehow she did not seem
to belong to herself. In vain did I try to arouse
her pride . . . she either held her peace, or
talked, and how! — fairly chattered about Ko-
losoff! I did not then suspect that grief of that
sort, loquacious grief, is, in reality, far more gen-
uine than all silent sufferings. I confess that
I lived through many bitter moments during that
period. I felt that I was not capable of taking
Kolosoff 's place; I felt that Varya's past was so
full, so beautiful .... and the present so poor.
.... I reached the point where I involuntarily
shuddered at the words, "Do you remember?"
.... with which almost every speech of hers
began. She grew rather thin during the first
days of our acquaintance .... but afterward
she recovered her health, and even waxed merry;

74

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

at that time, she might have been compared to a
little bird which has been wounded, and has not,
as yet, fully recovered. In the meantime, my
position had become unbearable; the very lowest
passions gradually began to take possession of
my soul; it even befell that I calumniated K6-
losoff in the presence of Varya. I made up my
mind to put an end to such unnatural relations.
But how? Part from Varya I could not. . . .
Declare my love to her I dared not ; I felt that I
could not, as yet, hope that it would be recipro-
cated. Marry her. . . . That thought terrified
me; I was only eighteen years of age; it seemed
terrible to me to " enslave " my whole future so
early: I remembered my father, I heard the jeers
of my comrade KolosofF. . . . But, it is said,
every thought is like dough; it is worth while to
knead it well— and you can make anything out of
it. I began to meditate on marriage for whole
days at a time. ... I pictured to myself with
what gratitude Varya's heart would be filled to
overflowing when I, KolosofF's comrade and con-
fidant, should offer her my hand, knowing that
she was hopelessly in love with another. Expe-
rienced people, I recollected, had frequently told
me that marrying for love was the most absolute
folly; I began to indulge in fancies: I pictured
to myself our tranquil life together, somewhere in
a warm corner of southern Russia; I mentally
watched the gradual transition of Varya's heart

75

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

from gratitude to friendship, from friendship
to love. ... I promised myself that I would
immediately leave Moscow, and the university,
and forget everything and everybody. I began
to avoid meeting Kolosoff . At last, on one clear,
winter morning (on the evening before Vary a
had, somehow, peculiarly enchanted me), I
dressed myself in my best, emerged slowly and
solemnly from my chamber, hired a capital
drozhky, and drove to Ivan Semyonitch's. Va-
rya was sitting alone in the hall, and reading
Karamzin.1 At sight of me, she softly laid her
book on her lap, and with anxious curiosity gazed
into my face: I had never been in the habit of
going to them in the morning. ... I seated my-
self by her side; my heart beat torturingly.
" What are you reading? " I asked at last.
" Karamzin."

" Well? are you interested in Russian ... ? "
She suddenly interrupted me.

"Listen; you do not come from Andrei, do
you? "

That name, the tremulous, questioning voice,
the all- joyful, half -timid expression of her face,
all those indubitable tokens of living love sank
into my soul like arrows. I made up my mind
either to part from Varya, or to receive from her
herself the right forever to banish from her lips

1 The famous historian. He also wrote a number of much-admired
sentimental high-strung tales (1765-1826). — TRANSLATOR.

76

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

the hateful name of Andrei. I do not remember
what I said to her then; at first I must have ex-
pressed myself somewhat obscurely, because she
did not understand me for a long time; at last,
I could endure it no longer, and I almost
shrieked : " I love you, and I want to marry you."

* You love me? " said Varya, in amazement.

It seemed to me that she wanted to rise, to go
away, to reject me.

" For God's sake," I whispered panting,—
" do not answer me either ' yes ' or * no ' ; re-
flect: to-morrow I will return for a decisive an-
swer. ... I have loved you this long time, I
want to be your defender, your friend. Do not
answer me now, do not answer. . . . Farewell
until to-morrow."

With these words, I rushed out of the room.
Ivan Semyonitch met me in the anteroom, and
not only was not surprised at my call, but even,
with an agreeable smile, offered me an apple.
Such an unexpected piece of amiability startled
me so that I was fairly petrified.

" Pray, take the apple; 't is a good little apple,
really!" repeated Ivan Semyonitch. I mechan-
ically took the apple at last and drove home with
it.

You can easily imagine how I passed all that
day and the following morning. I slept pretty
badly that night. "My God! My God!" I
thought: "what if she should refuse me! . . . .

77

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

I shall perish, .... I shall perish, "I kept

repeating despondently. "Yes, she will infallibly

reject me. . . . And why was I so hasty! ! "

Being desirous of diverting my mind in some
manner, I began to write a letter to my father -
a desperate, a decisive letter. In speaking of
myself, I used the words " your son." Boboff
dropped in to see me. I began to weep upon his
breast, which, probably, surprised Boboff not
a little. ... I then learned that he had come
to me to borrow money (his landlord had threat-
ened to eject him from the house) ; he had been
obliged— speaking in the student language—
"to withdraw backward and return. . . ." At
last, the great moment arrived. As I emerged
from my room, I stopped in the doorway. " With
what feelings," I thought, " shall I step across
this threshold again?" .... My agitation, at
the sight of Ivan Semyonitch's little house, was
so powerful that I alighted from the carriage,
got a handful of snow, and eagerly pressed my
face to it. " O Lord! " I thought: " if I find
Vary a alone,— I am lost! " My legs gave way
beneath me; I barely managed to mount the
porch. My wishes were fulfilled. I found Va-
rya in the drawing-room with Matryona Semyo-
novna. I made my bows awkwardly, and seated
myself by the old woman. Varya's face was
somewhat paler than usual .... it seemed to
me that she was trying to avoid my glances. . . .

78

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

But what was my state of mind when Matryona
Semyonovna suddenly rose, and went into the
next room! ... I began to stare out of the win-
dow— I was quivering all over internally like an
aspen-leaf. Varya maintained silence. ... At
last I conquered my timidity, stepped up to her,
bent my head. . . .

" What have you to say to me? " I enunciated
in a dying voice. Varya turned away,— tears
sparkled on her eyelashes.

" I see," I went on, " that it is useless for me
to hope." .... Varya cast a bashful glance
around, and silently gave me her hand.

:< Varya!" I said involuntarily .... and
halted, as though frightened at my own hopes.

" Speak to papa," she said at last.

" Do you permit me to speak to Ivan Semyo-
nitch?"

" Yes, sir." I showered kisses on her hands.

" Enough, sir; enough, sir," whispered Varya
— and suddenly burst into tears. I sat down
beside her, soothed her, and wiped away her
tears. . . . Luckily, Ivan Semyonitch was not at
home, and Matryona Semyonovna had gone off
to her little chamber up-stairs. I swore love and
fidelity to Varya. . . .

* Yes," she said, repressing her final sobs and
incessantly wiping away her tears:— "I know
that you are a good man; you are an honourable
man; you are not like Kolosoff. . . ."

79

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

" Again that name? " .... I thought. But
with what delight did I kiss those warm, moist
little hands! with what quiet joy did I gaze into
that sweet face! .... I talked to her of the fu-
ture, I strode about the room, I sat down in front
of her on the floor, I covered my eyes with my
hand and shuddered. . . . Ivan Semyonitch's
heavy tread broke off our conversation. Varya
rose hastily and went off to her own room— but
without pressing my hand or glancing at me.
Mr. Sidorenko was still more amiable than he
had been on the preceding day: he laughed,
rubbed his belly, made jokes at the expense of
Matryona Semyonovna, and so forth. I would
have liked to ask his " blessing " on the spot, but
changed my mind, and deferred it until the mor-
row. His ponderous jests bored me; moreover, I
felt tired. ... I took leave of him and drove
away.

I belong to the category of people who are
fond of meditating on their own sensations, al-
though I cannot endure such people myself.
And therefore, after the first outburst of heart-
felt joy, I immediately began to surrender my-
self to various reflections. When I had driven
about half a verst from the house of the retired
lieutenant, I tossed my cap into the air in excess
of rapture, and shouted: " Hurrah! " But while
I was wending my way through the long and
crooked streets of Moscow, my thoughts gradu-

80

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

ally took another turn. Divers decidedly dirty
doubts began to bustle about in my soul. I re-
called my conversation with Ivan Semyonitch
about marriage in general .... and involun-
tarily said, in an undertone : " Just think what a
hypocrite the old rascal is!" . . . To tell the
truth, I kept incessantly reiterating: "But, on the
other hand, Vary a is mine! mine! " . . . . But,
in the first place, that " but "— okh, that butl—
and, in the second place, the words " Varya is
mine!" awakened in me not a profound, shat-
tering joy, but some sort of commonplace, con-
ceited rapture. ... If Varya had flatly rejected
me I would have flamed up with wild passion;
but, having obtained her consent, I resembled a
man who has said to a guest: "Make yourself
at home " — and the guest actually begins to dis-
pose of things in the room, as though it were
his own house. " If she loved KolosofF," I
thought, " how is it that she has so speedily con-
sented? Evidently, she is glad to marry any-
body Well, and what of that? So much the

better for me." .... With these strange and
troubled feelings I crossed the threshold of my
home. Perhaps you think my story lacking in
plausibility, gentlemen? I do not know whether
it resembles the truth, but I do know that every-
thing which I have told you is the complete and
genuine truth. However, during the whole of
that day I gave myself up to feverish merri-

81

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

merit, told myself that I simply did not deserve
such happiness; but the next morning ....

A wonderful thing is sleep! It not only re-
news the body, in a certain way it also renews the
soul, restores it to its pristine simplicity and
naturalness. In the course of the day you have
succeeded in tuning yourself up to concert pitch,
in becoming permeated with falsehood, with ly-
ing thoughts .... sleep, with its cold flood,
washes away all these wretched quibbles, and, on
awakening, you are capable, for a few moments
at least, of comprehending and loving the truth.
I awoke, and on reflecting upon the past day, I
felt conscious of a certain awkwardness .... I
felt rather ashamed of all my pranks. With
involuntary uneasiness I thought of my visit
which was to be made that day, about the ex-
planation with Ivan Semyonitch. . . . This un-
easiness was torturing and fatiguing; it resem-
bled the uneasiness of a hare which hears the
baying of the hounds, and must at last emerge
from its native forest into the fields . . . while
in the fields the sharp-f anged harriers are await-
ing it. ... " Why was I in such a hurry! " I
repeated, as on the preceding evening, but in
quite another sense now. I remember that that
frightful difference between yesterday and to-
day surprised even me; it then occurred to me
for the first time that mysteries lie hidden in
the life of man— strange mysteries. . . . With

82

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

childish perplexity I gazed at that new, non-fan-
tastic, actual world. By the word " actuality "
many persons mean the word " triviality." Per-
haps that is sometimes the case; but I must con-
fess that the first appearance of actuality to me
shook me profoundly, frightened me, startled
me. . . .

What big speeches on the subject of love
which has not had its dance out, to speak in
Gogol's words ! . . . I will -return to my story.
In the course of that morning, I again assured
myself that I was the happiest of mortals. I
drove out of town to Ivan Semyonitch's. He
received me very joyfully; he started to go off
to a neighbour's, but I stopped him. I was
afraid to remain alone with Varya. That even-
ing passed cheerfully but not comfortably.
Varya was neither one thing nor the other, nei-
ther amiable nor sad .... neither pretty nor
homely. I scanned her, as the philosophers say,
with the objective eye — that is, as a satiated man
gazes at food. I decided that her hands were ra-
ther red. However, my blood grew hot within me
at intervals, and, as I gazed at her, I surrendered
myself to other reveries and thoughts. It was
not so very long since I had made a so-called
proposal, and here already I was feeling that she
and I were living the conjugal life .... that
our souls already constituted one very beautiful
whole, belonged to each other, and, consequently,

83

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

were trying to search out, each for itself, its
special path. . . .

"Well, have you spoken to papa?" Varya
said to me, when she and I were left alone to-
gether. That question displeased me dreadfully.
... I thought to myself:—" You 're in an aw-
ful hurry, Varvara Ivanovna! "

" No, not yet," I replied rather drily:- " but
I will speak to him."

Altogether, I treated her somewhat care-
lessly. In spite of my promise, I said nothing
decisive to Ivan Semyonitch. When I went
away I pressed his hand significantly, and in-
formed him that I must have a talk with him
.... that was all. . . .

" Good-bye! " I said to Varya.

" Until we meet again," said she.

I will not weary you long, gentlemen; I am
afraid of exhausting your patience. . . . That
interview did not take place. I never went back
to Ivan Semyonitch. To tell the truth, the first
few days of my separation from Varya did not
pass off without tears, reproaches, and agitation;
I myself was alarmed at the speedy withering of
my love; a score of times I was on the point of
going to her; I pictured to myself in vivid col-
ours her surprise, her grief, her sense of in-
jury, but— I did not go back to Ivan Semyo-
nitch's. I entreated her forgiveness mentally; I
mentally went down on my knees before her,

84

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

assured her of my deep remorse— and once,
when I encountered in the street a young girl
who hore a slight resemblance to her, I set off
on a run without looking behind me, and only
stopped to take breath in a confectioner's shop,
behind five-fold puff -paste patties. The word
" to-morrow " was invented for irresolute people,
and for children; I, being a child, soothed my-
self with that magic word. " I will go to her
to-morrow without fail," I said to myself, and
ate and slept capitally to-day. I began to think
a great deal more about Kolosoff than about
Varya .... everywhere and incessantly I be-
held before me his frank, bold, unconcerned face.
I began to go to him again. He welcomed me as
of yore. But how deeply conscious I was of his
superiority over myself! How ridiculous did all
my fancies appear to me— my mournful pensive-
ness during the period of Kolosoff s connection
with Varya, my magnanimous determination to
bring them together again, my anticipations, my
raptures, my remorse! . . .

I had enacted a wretched, noisy, and .pro-
longed comedy, while he had lived through that
period so simply, so finely. . . . You will say
to me: "What is there surprising about that?
Your Kolosoff fell in love with a young girl, then
fell out of love with her and abandoned her. , . .
But that has happened to everybody." . . .
Agreed; but which one of us has known how to

85

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

bid farewell in time to his past? Who— tell me
—who is not afraid of the reproaches, I will not
say of the reproaches of a woman .... of the
reproaches of the first blockhead who comes to
hand? Which one of us has not yielded to the
desire to make a display of magnanimity, or self -
conceitedly to play with another devoted heart?
In conclusion, which of us is capable of resisting
petty self-love— the petty nice feelings: compas-
sion and remorse? Oh, gentlemen! the man who
parts from a woman formerly beloved, at that
great and bitter moment when he becomes con-
scious that his heart is riot wholly, not completely
permeated with her, that man, believe me, un-
derstands the sacredness of love better and more
profoundly than those pusillanimous people who,
out of boredom, out of weakness, continue to
play on the half -broken strings of their languid
and sensitive hearts.

At the beginning of my story I told you
that we all called Andrei Kolosoff a remarkable
man. And if a clear, simple view of life, if the
absence of all phrase-making in a young man
can be termed a remarkable thing, then Kolosoif
deserved the name which had been bestowed on
him. At a certain age, to be natural is equivalent
to being remarkable. . . . But it is time for me
to finish. I thank you for your attention. . . .
Ah, but I forgot to tell you that, three months
after my last visit, I met that old rascal Ivan

86

ANDREI KOLOSOFF

Semyonitch. As a matter of course, I endeav-
oured to slip past him swiftly and unperceived,
but, nevertheless, I could not help overhearing
the following words, uttered with vexation:
" Some folks are so broad-minded, you know! "

" And what became of Varya? "—asked some
one.

" I don't know,"— replied the story-teller.

We all rose and went our various ways.

87

THE BULLY

(1846)

THE BULLY

THE *** regiment of cuirassiers was sta-
tioned, in the year 1829, in the village of
Kirilovka, of the K*** Government. This vil-
lage, with its cottages and grain-ricks, with its
green hemp-patches and emaciated willows, ap-
peared, from a distance, to be an island in the
middle of a boundless sea of tilled, black-loam
fields. In the middle of the village was a small
pond, eternally covered with goose-down, with
filthy, furrowed banks; a hundred paces from
the pond, on the other side of the road, towered
aloft a wooden manor-house of some gentlefolk,
long empty and sadly sagging over on one side;
in the garden grew ancient, sterile apple-trees,
and lofty birches studded with crows' nests; at
the end of the principal avenue, in a tiny house
(formerly the gentry's bath-house), dwelt a de-
crepit butler who, grunting and clearing his
throat, from ancient habit dragged himself every
morning through the garden to the apartments
of the gentry, although there was nothing in
them to guard, except a dozen white arm-chairs
upholstered in faded stuff, two pot-bellied chests

91

THE BULLY

of drawers on crooked legs and with brass
handles, four pictures full of holes, and one black
negro of alabaster, with a broken nose. The
owner of this house, a young and heedless man,
lived sometimes in Petersburg, sometimes abroad
—and had utterly forgotten his hereditary es-
tate. It had come into his possession eight years
previously, inherited from an extremely aged
uncle, once known to all the countryside for his
capital fruit-liqueurs. Empty, dark-green bottles
were still scattered about in the storehouse, along
with various rubbish, copy-books in variegated
covers, closely written all over in miserly fashion,
antique glass chandeliers, a nobleman's uniform
of the epoch of Katherine II., a rusty sword with
a steel hilt, and so forth.

In one of the wings the Colonel himself lodged
—a married man, tall of stature, parsimonious of
words, surly, and sleepy. In the other wing
lived the adjutant, a sensual and highly-perfumed
man, fond of flowers and butterflies. The so-
ciety of the officers of the *** regiment in no
way differed from any other society. Among
them, a certain Avdyei Ivanovitch Lutchkoff,
staff -captain, bore the reputation of a bully.
Lutchkoff was small of stature, and not good-
looking; he had a small, sallow, lean face, thin
black hair, ordinary features, and small, dark
eyes. He had early been left an orphan, had
grown up in indigence and oppression. For

92

THE BULLY

whole weeks together he behaved quietly ....
and all of a sudden — it seemed as though some
fiend had taken possession of him— he would be-
gin to harass everybody, bother everybody, stare
everybody impudently in the eye; well, he fairly
challenged people to a quarrel. Moreover,
Avdyei did not shun his fellow-officers, but was
on friendly terms only with the perfumed ad-
jutant; he did not play cards, and he did not
drink liquor.

In May, 1829, not long before the beginning
of drill, there came to the regiment a young
cornet, Feodor Feodorovitch Kister, a Russian
nobleman of German extraction, very fair-haired
and very modest, cultured and well-read. Until
the age of twenty he had lived in the paternal
home under the wing of his mamma, his grand-
mamma, and two aunts; he had entered the mili-
tary service solely at the desire of his grand-
mother, who even in her old age could not see
a white cockade without emotion. . . . He dis-
charged his duties without any special eagerness,
but with zeal, just as though he were conscien-
tiously performing his duty; he dressed, not
foppishly, but neatly, and according to the regu-
lations. On the very first day of his arrival,
Feodor Feodorovitch reported himself to his com-
manding officers; then he began to put his quar-
ters in order. He had brought with him some
cheap wall-paper, rugs, shelves, and so forth;

93

THE BULLY

he papered all his walls and the doors, erected
various partitions, ordered the yard to be cleaned
up, rebuilt the stable and the kitchen; he even set
apart a place for a bath. . . . For a whole week
he busied himself; but it was a delight to enter
his room afterward. In front of the windows
stood a neat table, covered with various knick-
knacks ; in one corner was a small stand for books,
with the busts of Goethe and Schiller ; on the walls
hung maps, four Grevedon heads and a hunting-
gun; beside the table ran a stately row of pipes
with correct mouth-pieces; on the floor of the
anteroom lay a rug; all the doors fastened with
locks; the windows were hung with curtains.
Everything in Feodor Feodorovitch's room
exhaled an atmosphere of order and cleanliness.
It was quite different with his comrades! You
could hardly make your way to one of them
through the filthy yard; in the anteroom, behind
a peeling canvas screen, an orderly would be
snoring; on the floor lay rotten straw; on the
cooking-stove, boots and the bottom of a jar
overflowing with shoe-blacking; in the room it-
self a warped I'ombre table, scrawled all over
with chalk; on the table, glasses half filled with
cold, dark-brown tea; along the wall, a broad,
broken-down, greasy divan; on the windows,
pipe-ashes. ... In the clumsy and bloated
arm-chair sat the master of the house himself,
in a grass-green dressing-gown with crimson

94

THE BULLY

plush facings, and an embroidered skull-cap of
Asiatic origin, while by the master's side a fat
and good-for-nothing dog in a stinking brass
collar was snoring. . . All the doors were always
wide open. . . .

Feodor Feodorovitch pleased his new com-
rades. They liked him for his good-nature, his
modesty, his hearty cordiality, and his innate
inclination to " everything beautiful,"— in a
word, for everything which in any other officer
they would, possibly, have considered unbe-
fitting. They called Kister "the pretty girl,"
and treated him tenderly and gently. Avdyei
Ivanovitch alone looked askance upon him. One
day, after drill, LutchkofF stepped up to him,
with slightly-compressed lips and inflated nos-
trils.

" Good morning, Mr. Knaster."
Kister glanced at him with surprise.
" My respects, Mr. Knaster," repeated Lutch-
kofF.

" My name is Kister, my dear sir."
" You don't say so, Mr. Knaster."
Feodor Feodorovitch turned his back on him
and went home. LutchkofF stared after him
with a sneer.

On the following day, immediately after drill,
he stepped up to Kister again.

"Well, how 's your health, Mr. Kinderbal-
zam? "

95

THE BULLY

Kister flared up, and stared him straight in
the face. Avdyei Ivanovitch's little, bilious eyes
lighted up with malicious joy.

" I 'm speaking to you, Mr. Kinderbalzam ! "
" My dear sir," replied Feodor Feodorovitch,
—"I consider your jest stupid and indecorous—
do you hear? stupid and indecorous."

"When shall we fight?" retorted Lutchkoff
calmly.

" Whenever you like .... say to-morrow."
The next day they fought. Lutchkoff slightly
wounded Kister, and, to the intense amazement
of the seconds, stepped up to the wounded man,
took his hand, and asked his pardon. Kister was
confined to the house for a fortnight. Avdyei
Ivanovitch dropped in several times to see the
invalid, and after Feodor Feodorovitch's recov-
ery, struck up a friendship with him. Whether
it was that the young officer's resolution had
pleased him, or a sentiment akin to remorse had
awaked in his soul, it would be difficult to deter-
mine; .... but dating from the duel with Kis-
ter, Avdyei Ivanovitch was hardly ever parted
from him, and first called him Feodor, then
Fedya. In his presence, he became another man,
and— strange to say!— not to his advantage. It
did not suit his style to be gentle and soft. Nev-
ertheless, he did not evoke sympathy in any one:
such was his fate! He belonged to the category
of people who seem to have been endowed with

96

!

THE BULLY

the right of power over others; but nature had
denied him the gifts which form the indispen-
sable justification for such a right. As he had
received no education, and was not distinguished
by brains, he ought not to have divested himself
of his ordinary character; perhaps harshness in
him proceeded precisely from his consciousness of
the defects of his own bringing-up, from a desire
to conceal himself entirely beneath one unvary-
ing mask. . Avdyei Ivanovitch had first made
himself despise people ; then he had observed that
it was not a difficult matter to frighten them,
and had begun to despise them in reality.
Lutchkoff delighted in putting an end, by his
mere appearance, to every conversation which
was not utterly trivial. " I know nothing and
never learned anything, and have no abilities," he
thought to himself; " therefore don't you know
anything and don't you display your abilities be-
fore me " Kister forced Lutchkoff to

emerge, at last, from his assumed role, possibly
because until his acquaintance with him the bully
had not encountered a single really " ideal " man
that is to say, a man disinterestedly and good-
naturedly immersed in dreams, and consequently
indulgent and not conceited. Avdyei Ivan-
vitch would come to Kister of a morning,
ight his pipe, and quietly seat himself in an
easy-chair. Lutchkoff was not ashamed of
his ignorance in Kister's presence; he trusted

97

THE BULLY

—and not in vain— to the latter's German dis-
cretion.

"Well, what now?" -he would begin:- "what
didst thou do last evening? Read, I suppose,
hey?"

" Yes, I read. . . ."

" And what didst thou read? Come, tell me,
my dear fellow, tell me."— Avdyei Ivanovitch
maintained his jeering tone to the end.

" I read Kleist's ' Idyl,' brother. Akh, how
fine it is! If thou wilt permit me, I will translate
a few lines to thee."— And Kister translated
with fervour, while Lutchkoff, wrinkling up his
forehead, and compressing his lips, listened at-
tentively. ..." Yes, yes,"— he kept repeating
hastily, with a disagreeable smile,—" 't is fine
. . . very fine. . . I remember that I have read
that . /. . 't is fine.

' Tell me, please,"— he added with a drawl
and, as it were, reluctantly:— " what is thy opin-
ion of Louis the Fourteenth? "

And Kister began to talk about Louis XIV.
And Lutchkoff listened, did not understand
much of it at all, understood some of it wrongly
.... and at last decided to make a remark.
.... The idea threw him into a perspiration:
"Well, and what if I do talk nonsense?" he
thought. And, as a matter of fact, he did it fre-
quently, but Kister never answered him harshly;
the good-natured young fellow was heartily de-

98

THE BULLY

lighted that a desire for enlightenment was wak-
ing up in the man. Alas! Avdyei Ivanovitch
questioned Kister not out of a desire for enlight-
enment, but just because he felt like it, God knows
why! Perhaps he wished to ascertain by experi-
ment what sort of a head he, LutchkofF, had,—
a stupid one, or merely an unpolished one.— "But
I actually am stupid," he said to himself more
than once, with a bitter grin, and suddenly
straightened himself up stiffly, stared arrogantly
and impudently about him, and smiled mali-
ciously if he noticed some comrade lower his
glance before his. " Just so, brother, my learned,
cultured man . ..." he whispered through his
teeth. " Wouldst not thou like .... thou
knowest what? "

The officers did not discuss the sudden friend-
ship between Kister and Lutchkoff long: they
were used to the bully's peculiarities. :' The
devil has entered into compact with the infant! "
they said. . . Kister everywhere lauded his new
friend fervently, and they did not contradict
him, because they feared Lutchkoff; and Lutch-
koff himself never mentioned Kister's name be-
fore others, but dropped the acquaintance of the
perfumed adjutant.

II

THE landed proprietors in southern Russia are
very fond of giving balls, of inviting the officers

99

THE BULLY

to their houses, and giving them their daughters
in marriage. Ten versts from the village of Kiri-
lovo dwelt precisely such a landed proprietor, a
certain Mr. Perekatoff, the possessor of four
hundred souls and a fairly spacious house. He
had a daughter of seventeen, Mashenka, and a
wife, Nenila Makarievna. Mr. Perekatoff had
once served in the cavalry, but out of love for a
country life, out of indolence, he had resigned
and begun to live his own life quietly, after the
manner of middle-class squires. Nenila Maka-
rievna was descended in a not entirely legiti-
mate manner from a distinguished boyar of
Moscow.

Her protector reared his Nenilushka very care-
fully, as the saying is, in his own house, but got
her off his hands with considerable haste, at the
first demand, as uncertain wares. Nenila Maka-
rievna was not comely; the distinguished gentle-
man gave her a dowry of ten thousand rubles, all
told; she jumped at Mr. Perekatoff. Mr. Pere-
katoff thought it very flattering to himself to
wed a cultured, clever young lady .... well,
and to sum it up, one who also was related to a
distinguished dignitary. That dignitary af-
forded the married pair his protection even after
the wedding; that is to say, he accepted from
them gifts of salted woodcock and addressed
Perekatoff as, " thou, my good fellow," and
sometimes simply as "thou." Nenila Maka-

100

THE BULLY

rievna completely ruled her husband, managed
affairs, and disposed of the entire estate,— very
cleverly, by the way; in any case, far better than
Mr. PerekatofF himself could have done. She
did not oppress her spouse excessively, but kept
him under her thumb, ordered his clothes herself,
and dressed him in English fashion, as is befitting
a country squire; by her command, Mr. Pere-
katofF cultivated on his chin a Spanish goatee,
to conceal a large wart which resembled an over-
ripe raspberry; Nenila Makarievna, on her side,
was wont to inform her guests that her husband
played the flute, and that all flute-players let the
hair grow below their under lip; it was more
convenient to hold the instrument. Mr. Pere-
katofF, from early morning, went about in a
tall, clean neckerchief, with hair well brushed
and face well washed. However, he was ex-
tremely well satisfied with his lot : he always had
very savoury dinners, did whatever he wished,
and slept as much as he could. Nenila Maka-
rievna set up in her house " a foreign order of
things," as the neighbours said: she kept few
servants, and dressed them neatly. She was tor-
tured with ambition; she wanted to become at
least Marshaless of the Nobility for the county,
but the nobles of the *** county, although they
ate their fill at her house, nevertheless elected not
her husband, but at one time retired Premier-
Major Burcholtz, at another, Second-Major

101

THE BULLY

Burundiukoff. Mr. Perekatoff seemed to them
too citified a rogue.

Mr. Perekatoff's daughter Mashenka resem-
bled her father in face. Nenila Makarievna had
taken great pains with her education. She spoke
French well, and played respectably on the piano.
She was of medium height, quite plump and
white; her rather chubby face was enlivened
by a good-natured, merry smile; her chestnut
hair, which was not too thick, her small brown
eyes, her agreeable voice — everything about her
pleased in a quiet way, and that was all. On the
other hand, the absence of affectation, of preju-
dices, her erudition, which was remarkable in a
maid of the steppes, her freedom of expression,
the calm simplicity of her speech and glance
evoked involuntary surprise. She had developed
in freedom; Nenila Makarievna had not put any
restraint upon her.

One morning, about twelve o'clock, the whole
Perekatoff family was assembled in the drawing-
room. The husband, in a green round dress-
coat, a tall, checked stock, and yellowish-grey
trousers with gaiters, was standing in front of the
window, and catching flies with great assiduity.
The daughter was sitting at her embroidery-
frame; her small, plump hand in a black mitt
rose and fell gracefully over the canvas. Nenila
Makarievna sat on the couch and stared silently
at the floor.

102

THE BULLY

" Did you send invitations to the *** regiment,
Sergyei Sergyeevitch? " — she asked her husband.

" For this evening? Of course, ma chere, I
sent them." (He was forbidden to call her ma-
tushka.1) "Of course!"

" There are no cavaliers at all,"— went on
Nenila Makarievna.— :< There is no one for the
young ladies to dance with."

Her husband sighed, as though the absence of
cavaliers afflicted him.

" Mamma,"— said Masha, suddenly:— " is
Monsieur Lutchkoff invited? "

" What LutchkofF? "

" He is an officer also. They say he is very in-
teresting."

" Really? "

' Yes ; he is not good-looking, and not young,
but every one is afraid of him. He is a fright-
ful duellist." (Mamma frowned slightly.) "I
should very much like to see him. . . ."

Sergyei Sergyeevitch interrupted his daugh-
ter.

'* What is there to see, my darling? Dost thou
think that he looks like Lord Byron? " (At that
epoch people had only just begun to talk about
Lord Byron among us. )-" Nonsense ! Why,
my darling, I also bore the reputation of a swash-
buckler in my day."

Mdtushka (literally, "dear little mother") is the genuine Russian
form of address for any woman of any rank. —TRANSLATOR .

103

THE BULLY

Masha stared in amazement at her parent,
broke out laughing, then sprang up and kissed
him on the cheek. His spouse smiled slightly
.... but Sergyei Sergyeevitch had not lied.

" I don't know whether that gentleman will
come,"— said Nenila Makarievna.— " Perhaps he
also will favour us with his company."

The daughter heaved a sigh.

"Look out, don't fall in love with him,"-
remarked Sergyei Sergyeevitch.— " I know that
all of you nowadays are such .... you see
.... so given to raptures. ..."

" No,"— returned Masha, artlessly.

Nenila Makarievna gazed coldly at her hus-
band. Sergyei Sergyeevitch toyed with his
watch-chain in some confusion, took from the
table his broad-brimmed English hat, and set off
to attend to the estate. His dog ran timidly and
submissively after him. Being a wise animal, it
felt that its master had not much power in the
house, and behaved itself modestly and cau-
tiously.

Nenila Makarievna approached her daughter,
gently lifted her head, and looked affectionately
into her eyes.

" Thou wilt tell me when thou fallest in love? "
she asked.

Masha, with a smile, kissed her mother's hand
and nodded her head affirmatively several times.

" See that thou dost,"— remarked Nenila Ma-
104

THE BULLY

karievna, patting her cheek, and following her
husband out of the room. Masha leaned against
the back of her easy-chair, dropped her head on
her breast, intertwined her fingers, and stared
for a long time out of the window, narrowing her
eyes. ... A faint flush played over her rosy
cheeks; with a sigh she straightened herself up,
began to embroider, dropped her needle, propped
her face on her hand, and lightly biting her
finger-nails, fell into thought .... then glanced
at her shoulder, at her outstretched hand, rose,
went to the mirror, laughed, put on her hat, and
went off into the park.

On that same evening, about eight o'clock, the
guests began to assemble. Madame Perekatoff
very amiably received and " entertained " the
ladies, Mashenka the young girls; Sergyei Ser-
gyeevitch chatted with the landed proprietors
about farming, and kept constantly glancing at
his wife. The young dandies began to present
themselves ; also the officers, who had deliberately
arrived as late as possible. At last the Colonel
himself entered, escorted by his Adjutant, Kister,
and Lutchkoff. He presented them to the hos-
tess. Lutchkoff bowed in silence; Kister mut-
tered the customary " Delighted." .... Mr.
Perekatoff stepped up to the Colonel, shook
hands cordially with him, and gazed feelingly
into his eyes. The Colonel immediately knit his
brows. The dancing began. Kister invited

105

THE BULLY

Mashenka. At that period the ^cossaise was still
flourishing.

" Tell me, please," Masha said to him when,
after having galloped a score of times to the
end of the hall, they had, at last, become the
leading pair: "Why is not your friend danc-
ing? "

"What friend?"

Masha indicated Lutchkoif with the tip of her
fan.

" He never dances/'— replied Kister.

" Then why did he come? "

Kister was somewhat disconcerted.—" He
wished to have the pleasure . . . ."

Mashenka interrupted him.— * You have re-
cently been transferred to our regiment, I be-
lieve? "

" To your regiment? " —remarked Kister, with
a smile:— ' Yes, recently."

" You are not bored here? "

" Good gracious .... no ... I have found
such agreeable society here .... and nature! . . . ."
Kister launched out into a description of nature.
Masha listened to him without raising her head.
Avdyei Ivanovitch was standing in the corner,
and gazing indifferently at the dancers.

" How old is Mr. LutchkofF? "—she suddenly
inquired.

" Thirty .... thirty-five, I think, "-replied
Kister.

106

THE BULLY

" They say he is a dangerous man . . . hot-
tempered,"— hastily added Masha.

" He is rather irascible .... but he is a very
fine man, nevertheless."

" They say that every one is afraid of him."

Kister burst out laughing.

"And you?"

" He and I are friends."

"Really?"

" Your turn, your turn, your turn," was
shouted at them from all sides. They gave a
start, and began once more to gallop sideways the
whole length of the hall.

" Well, I congratulate thee,"— said Kister to
Lutchkoff, approaching him after the dance:—
" the daughter of the house has kept asking me
incessant questions about thee."

" Is it possible? "—returned Lutchkoff, scorn-
fully.

" On my word of honour! And she 's very
pretty, you know; just look."

" But which one of them is she? "

Kister pointed out Masha to him.

"Ah! not bad-looking! "-And Lutchkoff
yawned.

:< What a cold man! "—exclaimed Kister, and
ran off to invite another young girl.

Avdyei Ivanovitch was greatly pleased with
the information imparted by Kister, although he
did yawn, and even yawn pretty loudly. To

107

THE BULLY

arouse curiosity flattered his self-love intensely;
he despised love— in words .... but inwardly
he felt that it would be a difficult and trouble-
some matter to make himself beloved. . . . Diffi-
cult and troublesome to make himself beloved,—
but very easy to pretend to be an indifferent,
reticent, haughty man. Avdyei Ivanovitch was
ill-favoured and not young; but, on the other
hand, he enjoyed a terrible reputation— and,
consequently, had a right to put on airs. He had
become used to bitter and taciturn enjoyment of
surly solitude; this was not the first time that
he had attracted the attention of women; some
had even tried to make friends with him, but he
had repulsed them with obdurate stubbornness;
he knew that tenderness was not becoming to his
style (in hours of trysts and frankness he be-
came first awkward and vulgar, and then, out of
vexation, rough to the point of insipidity, of
insult) ; he called to mind that two or three
women, with whom he had once consorted, had
cooled toward him immediately after the first
moments of close acquaintance, and had hastily
beaten a retreat from him . . . and therefore
he had made up his mind, at last, to remain a
riddle, and to scorn that which fortune had de-
nied to him. . . . People, as a whole, know no
other scorn, apparently. No frank, involuntary,
that is to say, good manifestation of passion was
becoming to Lutchkoff ; he was forced contin-
ually to put a restraint on himself, even when he
108

THE BULLY

was angry. Kister alone was not disgusted
when Lutchkoff burst into a guffaw of laughter ;
the eyes of the good German sparkled with the
noble joy of sympathy, when he read to Avdyei
Ivanovitch his favourite pages from Schiller, and
the bully sat in front of him, with head lowered
like a wolf.

Kister danced until he was ready to drop.
Lutchkoff did not quit his corner, knit his brows
in a frown, now and then darted a stealthy
glance at Masha— and, on encountering her eyes,
immediately imparted to his own an indifferent
expression. Masha danced three times with Kis-
ter. The enthusiastic young fellow excited her
confidence. She chatted very merrily with him,
but at heart he felt awkward. Lutchkoff en-
grossed her.

The mazurka thundered out. The officers be-
gan to leap, stamp their heels, and to toss their
epaulets with their shoulders; the civilians
stamped their heels also. Still Lutchkoff did not
stir from his place, and slowly followed the
couples with his eyes as they flitted past. Some
one touched his sleeve ... he glanced round;
his neighbour directed his attention to Masha.
She was standing in front of him, without raising
her eyes, and offering him her hand.1 Lutchkoff

1 The mazurka, which is still a great favourite in Russia, greatly
resembles the cotillon in everything except the steps, which (as the
description above indicates) are vivacious. Both the cotillon and the
mazurka are danced — one before, the other after, supper— at Court
balls and other dances.— TRANSLATOR.

109

THE BULLY

first stared at her in surprise, then indifferently
removed his broadsword, threw his hat on the
floor, awkwardly made his way among the arm-
chairs, took Masha by the hand— and passed
along the circle, without any skipping or stamp-
ing, as though unwillingly performing a disa-
greeable duty. . . Masha's heart beat violently.

"Why do you not dance?" she asked him at last.

"I don't like it,"— replied Lutchkoff. -
" Where is your place? "

" Yonder, sir."

Lutchkoff led Masha to her chair, calmly made
his bow to her, calmly returned to his corner
.... but the bile stirred merrily within him.

Kister invited Masha.

" What a strange man your friend is ! "

" And he interests you yery much " . . . .
said Feodor Feodorovitch, roguishly screwing up
his kind, blue eyes.

' Yes ... he must be very unhappy."
/ " He unhappy? Where did you get that
idea? "—And Feodor Feodorovitch burst out
laughing.

1 You don't know . . . you don't know. . ."
—Masha shook her head gravely.

" But why should n't I know? "

Again Masha shook her head and cast a glance
at Lutchkoff. Avdyei Ivanovitch noticed that
glance, shrugged his shoulders imperceptibly,
and went into another room.
110

THE BULLY

III

SEVERAL months passed after that evening.
Lutchkoff had not been to the Perekatoffs' a sin-
gle time. Kister, on the other hand, had called on
them quite often. Nenila Makarievna liked him,
but it was not she who attracted Feodor Feodoro-
vitch. He liked Masha. Being an inexperienced
man, and one who had not exhausted his stock
of talk, he found great pleasure in exchanging
sentiments and opinions, and good-naturedly be-
lieved in the possibility of a calm and exalted
friendship between a young man and a young
girl.

One day, a troika of well-fed and spirited
horses brought him with celerity to the house of
Mr. Perekatoff. It was a summer day, stifling
and sultry. There was not a cloud anywhere.
The azure of the sky was thickened at the edges
to such a degree that the eye took it for a thun-
dercloud. The house built by Mr. Perekatoff
for summer residence, with the customary fore-
thought of the steppes, had its windows turned
directly to the sun. Nemla Makarievna had
ordered all the shutters to be closed early in the
morning. Kister entered the cool, shaded draw-
ing-room. The light lay in long streaks on the
floor, in short, frequent bands on the walls. The
Perekatoff family welcomed Feodor Feodoro-

111

THE BULLY

vitch cordially. After dinner, Nenila Maka-
rievna took herself off to her own bedchamber
for a nap; Mr. PerekatofF ensconced himself on
a divan in the drawing-room; Masha seated her-
self at her embroidery- frame near the window;
Kister opposite her. Masha, without opening
the frame, leaned her breast against it, and
propped her head on her hands. Kister began
to narrate something to her; she listened to him
inattentively, as though she were expecting some-
thing, occasionally glanced at her father, and sud-
denly stretched out her hand.

" Listen, Feodor Feodoro vitch .... only,
speak as softly as possible .... papa has fallen
asleep."

Mr. PerekatofF had, in fact, according to his
wont, fallen asleep as he sat on the divan, with
his head thrown back, and his mouth slightly
open.

"What do you wish?"— asked Kister with
curiosity.

" You will laugh at me."

" Mercy on us, what an idea! " . . . .

Masha dropped her head so that only the upper
part of her face remained uncovered by her
hands, and in an undertone, not without embar-
rassment, she asked Kister: "why he never
brought Mr. LutchkofF with him?" This was
not the first time Masha had mentioned him since
the ball. . . . Kister maintained silence. Masha
112

THE BULLY

glanced timorously from behind her interlaced
embroidery-frame.

" May I tell you my opinion frankly? " — Kis-
ter asked her.

"Why not? Of course."

" It seems to me that Lutchkoff has made a
great impression on you! "

" No! " — replied Masha, and bent forward, as
though desirous of inspecting the pattern more
closely; a slender golden strip of light lay on
her hair:— "no .... but . . . ."

" But what? "—said Kister with a smile.

:< Why, you see,"— said Masha, and raised her
head suddenly, so that the streak of light fell
straight upon her eyes:— " you see .... he "

" He interests you. . . ."

:< Well .... yes . . . ." said Masha, paus-
ing between her words, blushed, turned away her
head a little, and in that posture continued to
speak:—" there is something about him that ....
There now, you are laughing at me,"— she sud-
denly added, with a swift glance at Feodor Feo-
dorovitch.

Feodor Feodorovitch smiled the gentlest of
smiles.

" I tell you everything that comes into my
head,"— pursued Masha:—" I know that you are
my . . . ." (she meant to say " friend ") " good
friend."

Kister bowed. Masha silently and timidly
113

THE BULLY

extended her hand to him; Feodor Feodorovitch
respectfully pressed the tips of her fingers.

" He must be a great eccentric,"— remarked
Masha, and again set her elbows on her em-
broidery-frame.

"An eccentric? "

" Of course; it is as an eccentric that he inter-
ests me! "—added Masha, craftily.

" Lutchkoff is a noble, a remarkable man,"
—replied Kister, gravely.— " The men of our
regiment do not know him, do not value him, and
see in him only his external side. He is, of course,
stubborn, strange, impatient, but he has a good
heart."

Masha listened eagerly to Feodor Feodoro-
vitch.

" I will bring him to you. I will tell him that
there is no need to fear you, that it is ridiculous
for him to be shy. ... I will tell him .... Oh,
yes! I know what I shall say. . . . That is, you
must not think, nevertheless, that I . ..." Kis-
ter grew confused ; Masha also was confused. . . .
* Yes, and in short, you see, he only . . . inter-
ests you .... so . ..."

:< Well, of course, as many others interest

me."

Kister cast a roguish glance at her.
" Good, good,"— he said with an aspect of sat-
isfaction:—" I will bring him to you. . . ."
" Why, no. . . ."

114

THE BULLY

" Good; but I tell you that everything will be
all right. ... I 11 arrange it. ..."

" What a man you are! . . ." remarked Masha,
with a smile, shaking her finger at him. Mr.
PerekatofF yawned and opened his eyes.

:' Why, I do believe I Ve been asleep?"— he
muttered with surprise. This question and sur-
prise were repeated every day. Masha and Kis-
ter began a conversation about Schiller.

But Feodor Feodorovitch did not feel quite
at his ease; envy seemed to have begun to stir
within him .... and he was nobly indignant
at himself. Nenila Makarievna entered the
drawing-room. Tea was served. Mr. Pereka-
tofF made his dog jump several times over a
cane, and then announced that he had taught the
dog himself, while the dog politely wagged his
tail, licked his chops, and blinked. When, at
last, the sultry heat had abated and the cool even-
ing breeze had come up, the whole PerekatofF
family set ofF for a stroll in the birch-grove.
Feodor Feodorovitch kept casting incessant
glances at Masha, as though he were desirous
of giving her to understand that he would
execute her commission; Masha felt vexed
at herself, and gay, and somewhat daunted.
Kister suddenly, without rhyme or reason, be-
gan to talk in a decidedly lofty style about
love in general, about friendship .... but,
on observing Nenila Makarievna's clear and

115

THE BULLY

attentive glance, he as suddenly changed the
conversation.

The sunset glow blazed up brilliantly and
splendidly. In front of the birch-coppice
stretched a broad, level meadow. Masha took it
into her head to play at tag. Maids and lackeys
made their appearance. Mr. Perekatoff stood
with his wife, Kister with Masha. The maids
ran with faint obsequious shrieks; Mr. Pereka-
toff's valet made so bold as to separate Nenila
Makarievna from her husband ; one maid respect-
fully surrendered to the master; Feodor Feodo-
rovitch did not part from Masha. Every time
that he resumed his place he said two or three
words to her; Masha, all flushed with running,
listened to him with a smile, and smoothed her
hair with her hand. After supper, Kister went
away.

The night was calm and starry. Kister
doffed his cap. He was agitated; he had a
slight lump in his throat. " Yes," he said at
last, almost aloud, "she loves him; I will bring
them together; I will justify her confidence."
Although nothing, as yet, had proved any open
inclination on Masha's part for LutchkofF, al-
though, according to her own words, he had
merely aroused her curiosity, yet Kister had al-
ready succeeded in composing for himself an
entire romance, in prescribing his duty to him-
self. He made up his mind to sacrifice his own
116

THE BULLY

feelings— the more so as, " with the exception
of sincere affection, I really feel nothing, so far,"
he thought. Kister really was capable of sacri-
ficing himself to friendship, to an acknowledged
duty. He had read a great deal, and therefore
imagined that he was experienced and even pene-
trating ; he did not doubt the truth of his assump-
tions; he did not suspect that life is infinitely
varied and never repeats itself. Gradually, Feo-
dor Feodorovitch attained to a state of rapture.
He began, with emotion, to think of his mission.
To be the mediator between a loving, timid young
girl and a man who was, possibly, obdurate only
because it had never happened to him a single
time in life to love and to be loved; to bring
them together, to interpret their own feel-
ings to them, and then to withdraw, without al-
lowing any one to perceive the magnitude of his
sacrifice, — what a fine act! Despite the coolness
of the night, the face of the kind dreamer was
burning hot. . . .

Early in the morning, on the following day,
he betook himself to Lutchkoff .

Avdyei Ivanovitch, according to his wont, was
lying on his divan and smoking a pipe. Kister
exchanged greetings with him.

"I was at the PerekatofFs' yesterday,"— he
said with some solemnity.

"Ah! "-returned LutchkofF, indifferently,
with a yawn.

117

THE BULLY

" Yes. They are very fine people."

"Really?"

" I talked with them about thee."

"Greatly honoured, I 'm sure; with whom,

pray? "

"With the old people .... and with the

daughter."

"Ah! with that .... fatty?"
" She 's a very fine girl, LutchkofF."
" Well, yes, they 're all very fine, those girls."
" No, LutchkofF, thou dost not know her. I
never before have met so clever, kind, and sensi-
tive a young girl."

LutchkofF began to hum through his nose:
" In the Hamburg Gazette— hasi not thou read
it?— how the year before last— Munich won the
victory. . . ." l

" Yes, but I tell thee

"Thou 'rt in love with her, Fedya,"— re-
marked LutchkofF, with a sneer.

" Not at all. I never thought of such a thing."
" Fedya, thou 'rt in love with her! "
"What nonsense! Can't a fellow . . . ."
" Thou 'rt in love with her, thou friend of my
heart, thou black-beetle that lodgest behind the
oven,"— drawled Avdyei Ivanovitch in a sing-
song tone.

" Ekh, Avdyei, shame on thee! "—said Kister,
with vexation.

1 A fragment from an old song. Munich was a prominent general
and statesman in the reign of Anna loannovna, and during the
regency of Anna Leopoldovna. — TRANSLATOR.

118

THE BULLY

WitK any other man, Lutchkoff would have
sung on worse than ever ; he did not tease Kister.
— " Well, well, sprechen sie deutsch, Ivan An-
dreitch,"— he growled in an undertone:—" don't
get angry."

" Listen, Avdyei,"— said Kister, with fervour,
sitting down by his side.— * Thou knowest that I
love thee." (Lutchkoff made a grimace.) " But
one thing in thee does not please me, I admit
. . . namely, that thou wilt have nothing to do
with anybody, always sittest at home, and
avoidest all intercourse with nice people. For
there are nice people! Well, let us assume that
thou hast been deceived in life, hast grown hard,
or something of that sort; thou needst not fling
thyself on everybody's neck; but why shouldst
thou repudiate everybody? Why, if thou goest
on like this, thou mayest drive me away also, one
of these days."

Lutchkoff continued to smoke with cool indif-
ference.

:< That 's why nobody knows you . . . except
me; any one else would think God knows what
about thee. . . . Avdyei!" added Kister, after
a brief silence:—" dost thou not believe in virtue,
Avdyei? "

" How can I help believing? .... Yes, I be-
lieve in it, . . ." said Lutchkoff.

Kister pressed his hand with emotion.

" I want,"— he went on in a much moved voice,
—"to reconcile thee with life. I 'm going to

119

THE BULLY

make thee grow merry, blossom out .... pre-
cisely that— blossom out. How glad I shall be
then! Only, thou must allow me to dispose of
thee, of thy time, occasionally. What day is to-
day? Monday. . . . To-morrow is Tuesday.
On Wednesday, yes, on Wednesday, we will go
to the PerekatofFs' together. They will be so
delighted to see thee . . . and we shall pass the
time so merrily . . there. . . . But now let me
smoke a pipe."

Avdyei Ivanovitch lay motionless on the divan
and stared at the ceiling. Kister lighted his pipe,
walked to the window, and began to drum on the
panes with his fingers.

" So they talked about me? "—asked Avdyei,
suddenly.

' Yes, they did," returned Kister, significantly.

" What did they say? "

" Well, they talked. They are very anxious
to make thine acquaintance."

" Who in particular? "

" Just see how curious he is! "

Avdyei called his servant, and gave orders to
have his horse saddled.

" Whither away? "

" To the riding-school."

" Well, good-bye. So we shall go to the Pere-
katoffs', shall we not?"

' Yes, if thou wishest,"— said Lutchkoff, indo-
lently, stretching himself.

120

THE BULLY

"That 's a fine fellow! "—exclaimed Kister,
and went out into the street, became pensive, and
heaved a deep sigh.

IV

MASHA was walking to the door of the drawing-
room when the arrival of Messrs. Kister and
LutchkofF was announced. She immediately
returned to her chamber, and made a movement
to approach the mirror. . . . Her heart beat
violently. A maid came to summon her to the
drawing-room. Masha drank a little water,
paused a couple of times on the stairs, and at
last descended. Mr. PerekatofF was not at
home. Nenila Makarievna was sitting on the
divan; LutchkofF was sitting in an arm-chair,
in his uniform, with his hat on his knees; Kister
sat by his side. They both rose on Masha's en-
trance,—Kister with his customary friendly
smile, LutchkofF with a stifF and solemn mien.
She bowed to them both in confusion, and went
to her mother. The first ten minutes passed ofF
well. Masha drew breath once more, and began
gradually to observe LutchkofF. He replied to
the hostess's questions briefly, but uneasily; he
was intimidated, like all self-conscious people.
Nenila Makarievna proposed to the guests that
they should take a stroll in the park, but she her-
self went no further than the balcony. She did

121

THE BULLY

not regard it as indispensable to keep an eye con-
stantly on her daughter, and hobble about after
her everywhere, with a plethoric reticule in her
hands, after the example of many mothers of the
steppes. The stroll lasted quite a long time.
Masha talked chiefly with Kister, but did not
venture to look either at him or at Lutchkoff.
Avdyei Ivanovitch did not converse with her;
emotion was discernible in Kister's voice. For
some reason he laughed and chattered a great
deal. . . . They approached the river. A fathom
distant from the shore grew a water-lily which
seemed to be reposing on the smooth surface of
the water, carpeted with its broad, round leaves.

" What a beautiful flower! " remarked Masha.

She had not finished uttering these words
before Lutchkoff drew out his broadsword,
grasped the slender branches of a willow with one
hand and, bending over the water with his whole
body, cut off the head of the flower. "The
water is deep here, take care! " cried Masha in
alarm. With the tip of his sword, Lutchkoff
drew the flower ashore, at her very feet. She
bent down, picked it up, and with tender, joyous
surprise looked at Avdyei.

"Bravo! "-cried Kister.

" And I don't know how to swim, . . ." said
Lutchkoff, abruptly.

Masha did not like this remark. J" Why did he
say that? " she thought.

122

THE BULLY

LutchkofF and Kister remained at Mr. Pereka-
tofF's until the evening. Something new and un-
precedented took place in Masha's soul; thought-
ful perplexity was more than once depicted on
her countenance. Somehow, she moved more
slowly, did not flush at her mother's glances—
on the contrary, she seemed to seek them, seemed
herself to be interrogating her. During the entire
course of the evening, LutchkofF showed her a
certain clumsy attention ; but this very clumsiness
pleased her innocent vanity. But when both of
them had departed, with a promise to come again
in a few days, she went softly to her chamber and
gazed about her for a long time, as though in
wonder. Nenila Makarievna came to her, kissed
and embraced her, as was her habit. Masha
opened her lips, tried to begin a conversation with
her mother,— and did not utter a word. She
wanted to make a confession, but did not know
about what. On the night-stand, the flower
plucked by LutchkofF lay on the water in a clean
glass. After she was in bed, Masha half rose,
propped herself on her elbow, and her virgin
lips softly touched the fresh white petals. . . .

:' Well, how now? " Kister asked his comrade
on the following day:—" do you like the Pere-
katofFs? Was I right? Hey? Tell me!"

LutchkofF made no answer.

" Come, tell me, tell me."

" Why, really, I don't know."
123

THE BULLY

"Come, stop that!"

" That .... what the deuce is her name?
. . . . that Mashenka— is all right; she is n't so

ugly."

" Well, there, you see. . . ." said Kister— and
stopped short.

Five days later Lutchkoff himself suggested
to Kister that they should go to the Perekatoffs'.
He would not have gone to them alone; in the
absence of Feodor Feodorovitch he would have
been obliged to carry on the conversation, and
this he was unable to do, and avoided as much
as possible.

Masha was much more at her ease when the
friends arrived for the second time. She now
secretly rejoiced that she had not worried her
mother by an unasked confession. Before din-
ner, Avdyei offered to mount a young, un-
broken horse, and in spite of the animal's mad
leaps, he tamed it completely. In the evening
he began to unbend, set to joking and laughing
—and although he speedily bethought himself,
he had already contrived to produce a momen-
tary disagreeable impression on Masha. She
herself did not yet know precisely what feeling
Lutchkoff had excited in her, but everything
about him which did not please her she attributed
to the influence of unhappiness, of solitude.

124

THE BULLY

THE friends began to make frequent visits to the
PerekatofFs'. Kister's position became more and
more burdensome. He did not repent .... no,
but he wished, at least, to curtail the period of his
trial. His attachment to Masha augmented with
every day; she herself was well disposed toward
him ; but to be eternally nothing more than a me-
diator, a confidant, even a friend— is such a
heavy, ungrateful role ! Coldly enthusiastic peo-
ple prate a vast deal about the sanctity of suf-
fering, about the bliss of suffering . . . but suf-
ferings afforded no bliss to Kister's warm, simple
heart. At last, one day, when Lutchkoff entered
his room, already fully dressed, and the calash
had driven up to the porch, Feodor Feodorovitch,
to the amazement of his friend, declared flatly
that he meant to remain at home. LutchkofF
entreated, grew vexed, waxed wrathful. . . .
Kister excused himself on the pretext of a head-
ache. Lutchkoff set off alone.

The bully had changed in many ways of late.
He left his comrades in peace, he did not harry the
novices, and although he had not blossomed forth
in soul, as Kister had predicted that he would,
still he really had quieted down. He could not
have been called a disillusioned man previously,—
he had seen almost nothing, and experienced al-

125

THE BULLY

most nothing,— and therefore it is not remarkable
that Masha should have occupied his thoughts.
However, his heart had not grown softer; the bile
in it had merely subsided. Masha's feelings
toward him were of a strange nature. She hardly
ever looked him straight in the face; she did not
know how to chat with him. . . . But when they
chanced to be left alone, Masha became fright-
fully embarrassed. She took him for a remark-
able man, and was intimidated in his presence;
she grew agitated, she imagined that she did not
understand him, did not deserve his confidence;
she thought of him in a cheerless, heavy way — but
incessantly. Kister's presence, on the contrary,
was a relief to her, and disposed her to mirth,
although it did not gladden or agitate her; with
him she could chat for hours; leaning on his
arm as on the arm of a brother, she gazed into his
eyes in a friendly way; she laughed when he
laughed— and rarely called him to mind. In
LutchkofF there was something mysterious for
the young girl; she felt that his soul was dark
" as the forest," and strove to penetrate into that
mysterious gloom. . . . Exactly in this way do
children gaze into a deep well, until at last they
espy, at the very bottom, the motionless, black
water.

When Lutchkoff entered the drawing-room
alone, Masha was startled at first .... but
afterward she rejoiced. It had already seemed
126

THE BULLY

to her, more than once, that between LutchkofF
and herself there existed a certain misapprehen-
sion, that hitherto he had had no opportunity to
explain himself. LutchkofF communicated to
her the cause of Kister's absence; the old people
expressed their sympathy; but Masha looked in-
credulously at Avdyei, and suffered poignantly
with anticipation. After dinner they were left
alone; Masha did not know what to say, and
seated herself at the piano; her fingers flew
hastily and tremulously over the keys; she kept
pausing constantly and waiting for the first word.
LutchkofF did not understand and did not like
music. Masha began to talk to him about Ros-
sini (Rossini had just come into fashion), about
Mozart. . . . Avdyei Ivanovitch replied : " Yes,
ma'am; no, ma'am; certainly, ma'am; very beauti-
ful,"—and that was all. Masha began to play
some brilliant variations on a theme by Rossini.
LutchkofF listened and listened, .... and when
at last she turned toward him, his face expressed
such unfeigned boredom that Masha instantly
sprang to her feet and shut the piano with a
bang. She walked to the window and stared
for a long time into the park; LutchkofF did not
stir from his seat, and preserved silence. Im-
patience began to usurp the place of timidity in
Masha's soul. "What is it?" she thought:
" willst thou not, or canst thou not?" It was
LutchkofF's turn to feel timid. Again he felt

127

THE BULLY

his usual torturing lack of confidence : he was al-
ready waxing wroth! ....

" 'T was the devil prompted me to get myself
entangled with a wretched little girl," he mut-
tered to himself. . . . And yet, how easy it was
at that moment to touch Masha's heart! No
matter what so remarkable, although so strange
a man as she imagined Lutchkoif to be, had
said, she would have understood all, excused all,
believed all. . . . But that heavy, stupid silence!
Tears of vexation welled up in her eyes.

" If he does not wish to explain himself, if I
really am not worthy of his confidence, why
does he come to our house? Or perhaps I do
not know how to make him speak out. ..."
And she turned swiftly round, and looked at him
in such an inquiring, such a persistent way that
he could not fail to understand her glance, could
no longer hold his peace. . . .

"Marya Sergyeevna! " — he ejaculated, stam-
mering,—" I .... I have .... I must say
something to you."

" Speak,"— returned Masha, swiftly.

Lutchkoif gazed about him irresolutely.

" I cannot now. . . ."

" Why? "

'' I should like to have a talk with you ....
in private. ..."

" But we are alone now."

* Yes . . . but .... here in the house . . . ."
128

THE BULLY

Masha was disconcerted. . . " If I refuse
him,"— she thought, — " everything is at an end."
.... Curiosity ruined Eve

" I agree,"— she said at last.

"When? Where?"

Masha breathed hastily and unevenly.

" To-morrow .... evening. Do you know
the coppice above the Long Meadow? . . ."

"Behind the mill?"

Masha nodded her head.

" At what o'clock? "

"Wait "

She could not utter anything more; her voice
broke . . . she turned pale, and hastily left the
room.

A quarter of an hour later, Mr. Perekatoff,
with the amiability characteristic of him, escorted
Lutchkoff to the anteroom, pressed his hand with
emotion, and begged him " not to forget them ";
then, having seen his guest off, he remarked with
dignity to his man that it would n't be a bad thing
for him to cut his hair — and, without awaiting an
answer, he returned to his chamber with an anx-
ious air, and with the same anxious air seated
himself on the divan, and immediately lapsed
into innocent slumber.

' Thou art somewhat pale to-day,"— said
Nenila Makarievna to her daughter on the even-
ing of the same day.—" Art thou well? "

" I am well, mamma."
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THE BULLY

Nenila Makarievna adjusted her kerchief on
her neck.

" Thou art very pale; look at me,"— she went
on with that maternal anxiety, in which, never-
theless, parental authority is audible:— " there,
now, and thine eyes are not merry. Thou art ill,
Masha."

" I have a slight headache,"— said Masha, in
order to make her escape in some way.

" There, now, I knew it."— Nenila Makarievna
laid her hand on Masha's brow.— " But thou hast
no fever."

Masha stooped down and picked up a thread
from the floor.

Nenila Makarievna's arms were laid gently
round Masha's slender waist.— " It seems as
though thou art wishing to say something to
me,"— she said affectionately, without unclasp-
ing her hands.

Masha shuddered inwardly.

"I? No, mamma."

Masha's momentary confusion did not escape
the maternal notice.

" Really, thou art .... Just reflect."

But Masha had succeeded in regaining her
composure, and, instead of a reply, she kissed her
mother's hand with a laugh.

" And thou dost not mean to say that thou hast
nothing to say to me? "

' Why, really, I have nothing."

" I believe thee,"— replied Nenila Makarievna,
130

THE BULLY

after a brief silence.—" I know that thou hast no
secrets from me. ... Is n't that true? "

"Of course, mamma."

Yet Masha could not help blushing faintly.

" And thou doest well. It would be sinful for
thee to have secrets from me. . . . For thou
knowest how I love thee, Masha."

" Oh, yes, mamma! "

And Masha nestled up to her.

" Come, that will do; enough of that."—
(Nenila Makarievna paced the room.) —
" But, come, tell me,"— she continued in the
voice of a person who is conscious that his
question has no special significance:— " what
wert thou talking about to-day with Avdyei
Ivanovitch? "

"With Avdyei Ivanovitch? "—repeated Ma-
sha, calmly.—" Why, about everything. ..."

" And dost thou like him? "

" Of course I do."

" And dost thou remember how anxious thou
wert to make his acquaintance, how agitated thou
wert? "

Masha turned away, and began to laugh.

:< What a strange person he is! "—remarked
Nenila Makarievna good-naturedly.

Masha wanted to take up the cudgels for
LutchkofF, but bit her little tongue.

' Yes, of course,"— she said with considerable
carelessness:— " he is eccentric, but he is a fine
man, nevertheless ! "

131

THE BULLY

" Oh, yes! .... Why did n't Feodor Feo-
dorovitch come? "

" Evidently he was not well. Akh, yes ! by the
way: Feodor Feodorovitch wants to make me a
present of a little dog. . . . Dost thou permit
me?"

" What? To accept his gift? "

" Yes."

" Certainly."

"Well, thanks,"— said Masha.- 'Thanks!"

Nenila Makarievna walked to the door, and
suddenly turned back.

" And dost thou remember thy promise,
Masha? "

"What promise?"

" Thou wert to tell me when thou shiouldst fall
in love."

" I remember."

"Well, what then? ... Is n't it time yet?"
(Masha uttered a ringing laugh.) " Come, look
me in the eye."

Masha looked brightly and boldly at her
mother.

" It cannot be! " thought Nenila Makarievna,
and felt reassured.—" Why should she deceive
me? ... And what made me think so? . . . .
She is still a perfect child. . . ."

She went away. . . .

" But, surely, this is a sin," thought Masha.

132

THE BULLY

VI

KISTER had already gone to bed when Lutchkoff
entered his room. The bully's face never ex-
pressed a single feeling; so it was now also:—
feigned indifference, coarse joy, the conscious-
ness of his superiority ... a multitude of varied
feelings played over his features.

" Well, what now? Well, what now? "— Kister
hastily asked him.

" Well, what indeed! I have been there. They
sent their greetings to thee."

" And are they all well? "

" What should ail them? "

" Did they inquire why I did not come ? "

" Yes, they inquired, I believe."

Lutchkoff stared at the ceiling and began to
sing in a falsetto voice. Kister dropped his eyes,
and became pensive.

" And see here now,"— enunciated Lutchkoff,
in a hoarse, sharp voice:— " here, thou art a clever
fellow, a learned fellow, and, as a matter of
course, thou also talkest nonsense on occasion,
begging pardon for the expression."

" What then? "

:< Why, this. On the subject of women, for
example. How thou dost laud them! Thou
readest verses about them! To thee all of them
are angels. . . Nice angels ! "

133

THE BULLY

" I love and revere women, but . . . ."
" Well, of course, of course,"— A vdyei inter-
rupted him.—" I 'm not disputing with thee, seest
thou. Why should I? I 'm a plain man, of

course."

" I meant to say that. . . . But why dost thou,
to-day in particular .... precisely at this time
.... begin to talk about women? "

"Because!" — Avdyei smiled significantly. —
"Because!"

Kister cast a penetrating glance at his friend.
He thought (pure soul!) that Masha had been
treating him badly; perhaps she had even tor-
mented him, as women only know how to tor-
ment. . . .

" Thou art embittered, my poor Avdyei, con-
fess. . . ."

Lutchkoff roared with laughter.

:< Well, there 's nothing for me to feel embit-
tered about, apparently,"— he said, with pauses
between his words, as he stroked his moustache
.complacent^.

" No; see here, now, Fedya,"— he continued in
a hortatory tone:—" I 'd just like to remark to
thee that thou art mistaken on the score of
women, my friend. Believe me, Fedya, they 're
all alike. All one has to do is to put himself to
a little trouble, to hover about them a bit, and
the business is as good as done. Now, take Ma-
sha PerekatofF, for instance. . . ."

134

THE BULLY

"Well!"

Lutchkoff tapped the floor with his foot, and
wagged his head.

" What is there particular and attractive
about me, hey? Nothing, apparently. Nothing,
is there? And yet a tryst has been appointed to
me for to-morrow."

Kister half rose, propped himself on his elbow,
and stared at Lutchkoff in amazement.

" At evening, in the grove . . . ." pursued
Avdyei Ivanovitch calmly.— " But don't think
any wrong of it. I only did it so — because. I 'm
bored, seest thou. She 's a very pretty little girl
.... well, thinks I to myself, what 's the harm?
As for marrying her, I sha'n't do that ....
but just to recall the pleasures of my youth. I 'm
not fond of fooling round with women,— but one
may amuse a wench. We '11 listen to the night-
ingales together. That is, in reality, thy busi-
ness ; but, seest thou, that female has n't any eyes.
What am I, I 'd like to know, in comparison with
thee?"

Lutchkoff talked for a long time. But Kister
did not listen to him. His head was reeling. He
turned white, and passed his hand over his face.
Lutchkoff wriggled about in his arm-chair, half-
closed his eyes, stretched himself,— and attribut-
ing Kister's emotion to jealousy, almost choked
with satisfaction. But Kister was not tormented
with jealousy: he was pained, not by the avowal

135

THE BULLY

itself, but by Avdyei's coarse thoughtlessness, his
indifferent and scornful way of speaking about
Masha. He .continued to gaze intently at the
bully— and, apparently, for the first time thor-
oughly scanned his features. So it was for this
he had taken so much pains! So it was for this
that he had sacrificed his own inclination! Here
it was— the gracious action of love!

" Avdyei ... is it possible that thou dost not
love her? "—he stammered out at last.

"Oh, innocence! Oh, Arcadia! "—retorted
Avdyei, with a malicious guffaw.

Even then the good Kister did not give up:
" Perhaps," he said to himself, " Avdyei is in-
censed, and is ' putting on airs,' according to his
wont " .... he found no new words wherewith
to express his sentiments. And was not there
another feeling concealed in him— in Kister—
beneath his indignation? Was it not because the
matter concerned Masha that Lutchkoff 's con-
fession had struck him so unpleasantly? How
did he know— perhaps Lutchkoff really was in
love with her? ... But no! No! A thousand
times no! That man in love? . . . That detesta-
ble man, with his bilious and sallow face, with
his spasmodic and cat-like movements, and his
throat swelling with delight .... disgusting!
No, not with such words would Kister have ut-
tered to his devoted friend the secret of his love.
.... In excess of happiness, with dumb rap-
136

THE BULLY

ture, with brilliant, copious tears in his eyes,
he would have clasped him to his breast.

" Well, brother? "—said Avdyei: " thou didst
not expect this— admit it! And now thou art
vexed? Hey? Thou art envious ? Confess, Fedya !
Hey? Hey? For, seest thou, I Jve snatched the
wench away from under thy very nose! "

Kister wanted to express his feelings, but
turned his face to the wall.— " Explain myself
. . . . before him? Not on any account!" he
whispered to himself. " He does not understand
me .... let it go! He takes it for granted
that there are only vile feelings in me — let
him!

Avdyei rose.

" I see that thou art sleepy,"— he said with
feigned sympathy:— "I will not hinder thee.
Sleep peacefully, my friend .... sleep ! "

And Lutchkoff left the room, extremely
pleased with himself.

Kister could not get to sleep until daybreak.
With feverish persistency he turned over and
thought over one and the same thought— an oc-
cupation but too familiar to unhappy lovers; it
acts on the soul like bellows on smouldering coals.

" Even if Lutchkoff is indifferent to her," he
thought:—" even if she has thrown herself at his
head, nevertheless, he ought not to have spoken
so disrespectfully, so insultingly of her even to
me, to his friend! How is she to blame? How

137

THE BULLY

can one help pitying the poor, inexperienced
young girl?

" But can it be that she has appointed a tryst
with him? She has— she really has. Avdyei is
not lying; he never lies. But perhaps it is only
a fancy on her part. . . .

" But she does not know him. . . . He is ca-
pable of insulting her, I think. After what has
happened to-day, I can answer for nothing. . . .
And was n't it you yourself, Mr. Kister, who
lauded and exalted him? Was n't it you your-
self who excited her curiosity? . . . But who
could have known? Who could have foreseen
this? . . .

" Foreseen what? Is it long since he ceased
to be my friend? . . . But enough of that; has
he ever been my friend? What a disenchant-
ment! What a lesson! "

The whole past gyrated in a whirlwind before
Kister 's eyes. '* Yes, I have loved him," he whis-
pered at last.— :< Why have I ceased to love him?
So speedily? .... And have I ceased to love
him? No. Why did I take a fancy to him? I
alone?"

Kister's loving heart had attached itself to
Avdyei precisely because all the others shunned
him. But the kind young man did not himself
know how great was his kindness.

"It is my duty"— he went on— " to warn
Marya Sergyeevna. But how? What right have
138

THE BULLY

I to meddle in other people's affairs, in other peo-
ple's love? How do I know what sort of love

it is? Perhaps, even in LutchkofF himself

No! " he said aloud, with vexation, almost with
tears, as he adjusted his pillows:— " that man is
a stone. . . .

" I myself am to blame. ... I have lost my
friend. ... A nice friend! And she is nice!
. . . What a hateful egoist I am! No! No!
From the depths of my soul I wish them happi-
ness. . . . Happiness! and he jeers at her! . . .
And why does he dye his moustache? Really,
now, it seems as though .... Akh, how ridicu-
lous I am! " —he kept repeating to himself, as he
fell asleep.

VII

THE next morning Kister drove to the Pere-
katofFs'. When they met, Kister perceived a
great change in Masha, and Masha also found
him changed; but both held their peace. They
both felt awkward the whole morning, contrary
to their wont. At home Kister had prepared a
large stock of ambiguous speeches and hints, of
friendly counsels .... but all these prepara-
tions proved to be utterly useless. Masha dimly
felt that Kister was watching her; it seemed to
her that he intentionally uttered some words in
a significant manner; but she also felt conscious

139

THE BULLY

of the existence of agitation within herself, and
did not trust her observations. " I do hope he
will not take it into his head to stay until even-
ing! " she kept incessantly thinking, and she tried
to make him understand that he was not wanted.
On his side, Kister accepted her awkwardness,
her trepidation, for visible tokens of love, and
the more he feared for her, the less could he make
up his mind to speak of LutchkofF, while Ma-
sha persistently abstained from alluding to him.
Poor Feodor Feodorovitch was in a painful po-
sition. He had begun, at last, to understand
his own feelings. Never had Masha appeared
to him more charming. Evidently, she had not
slept all night. A slight flush had started forth
in blotches on her pale face ; her form was slightly
bowed; an involuntary, languid smile never left
her lips; now and then a shiver ran over her
shoulders, which had grown pallid; her glances
kindled softly and swiftly died out. . . Nenila
Makarievna sat down beside them and, possibly
with deliberate intent, mentioned Avdyei Ivano-
vitch. But Masha, in the presence of her mother,
was armed jusquaux dents, as the French say,
and did not betray herself in the least. Thus
passed the whole morning.

"You will dine with us?"— Nenila Maka-
rievna asked Kister.

Masha turned away.

,"— enunciated Kister, hastily, with a
140

THE BULLY

glance at Masha.— ' You must excuse me ...
the obligations of the service. . ."— Nenila Ma-
karievna expressed her regret, as was proper ; fol-
lowing her example, Mr. PerekatofF expressed
something or other. " I do not wish to be in any
one's way," Kister wanted to say to Masha, as
he passed her, but instead, he bent forward and
whispered: "May you be happy . . . farewell
. . . beware ..." and disappeared.

Masha heaved a sigh from the bottom of her
soul, and then felt frightened at his departure.
What was it that was torturing her? Love or
curiosity? God knows; but we repeat: curiosity
was sufficient to ruin Eve.

VIII

A BROAD, level field on the right side of the little
river Snyezhinka, about a verst distant from the
PerekatofFs' estate, bore the name of Long Mea-
dow. The left bank, all covered with thick, young
oak-scrub, rose steeply above the river, which was
almost overgrown with willow-bushes, with the
exception of small " creeks," the haunt of wild
ducks. Half a verst from the river, in this same
Long Meadow, began sloping, undulating hil-
locks, here and there studded with ancient birches,
hazel- and viburnum-bushes.

The sun had set. A mill was whirring and
clattering in the distance, now loudly, now more

141

THE BULLY

softly, according to the wind. The gentry's
drove of horses was wandering idly through the
meadow; the shepherd was strolling along, sing-
ing, behind his greedy and timorous sheep; the
sheep-dogs were chasing crows out of pure te-
dium. Through the grove, with his arms folded,
strode Lutchkoff. More than once already his
tethered horse had responded impatiently to the
ringing neighs of the colts and mares. Avdyei
was raging and quailing, as was his wont. Still
unconvinced of Masha's love, he was already
furiously angry with her, and irritated at him-
self .... but the emotion in him overwhelmed
the vexation. He halted at last, in front of a
wide-spreading hazel-bush, and began with his
riding-whip to flick off the outermost leaves. . . .

He heard a faint noise .... he raised his
head. . . . Ten paces from him stood Masha, all
rosy with her swift walk, wearing a hat but no
gloves, in a white gown, with a kerchief hastily
knotted about her neck. She hastily dropped her
eyes and swayed softly.

Avdyei approached her clumsily and with a
constrained smile.

" How happy I am . . ." he was beginning,
almost inaudibly.

'I am very glad .... to meet you, . . ."
Masha interrupted him, panting.—" I generally
take a stroll here in the evening .... and
you . . . ."

142

THE BULLY

But LutchkofF did not even understand how
to spare her modesty, to back up her innocent
lie.

" I think, Marya Sergyeevna,"— he said with
dignity,— " that you yourself were pleased to . . ."

' Yes .... yes . . . ." returned Masha,
hastily. " You wished to see me ; you wanted
to . ..." Her voice had died away.

LutchkofF maintained silence. Masha timidly
raised her eyes.

" Excuse me," he began, without looking at
her:— "I am a plain man and am not in the.
habit of explaining myself .... with ladies.
. ... I .... wanted to speak to you . . . .
but, you are not inclined to listen to me, I
think. . . ."

" Speak. . . ."

' You command. . . . Well, then, I will say
to you frankly, that this long time, ever since I
had the pleasure of making your acquaint-
ance . . . ."

Avdyei paused. Masha waited for him to
finish his speech.

" However, I do not know why I am saying
all this to you. . . . One cannot alter his fate. ..."

" How do you know? . . ."

" I do know! "—responded Avdyei, gloomily.

" I am accustomed to encounter its blows! "

It seemed to Masha that now, at least, Lutch-
kofF had no occasion to complain of his fate.

143

THE BULLY

" There are kind people in the world,"— she
remarked with a smile:— "even too kind. . . ."

" I understand you, Marya Sergyeevna, and,
believe me, I know how to value your affection.
.... I .... I .... You will not be an-
gry?"

" No. . . . What is it that you wish to say? "

" I wish to say .... that I like you ....
Marya Sergyeevna .... that I like you very
much. . . ."

" I am very grateful to you," — Masha inter-
rupted him in confusion; her heart contracted
with anticipation and with terror.— " Akh, look,
Mr. LutchkofF,"— she went on,— " look, what a
view!"

She pointed to the meadow, all streaked with
long, evening shadows, all crimson in the sun-
light.

Inwardly delighted at the unexpected change
in the conversation, LutchkofF began to " ad-
mire " the view. He was standing by Masha's
side. . . .

" Do you love nature? " —she suddenly asked,
swiftly turning her head and looking at him
with that friendly, curious and soft glance which,
like a ringing voice, is given only to young
girls.

'Yes . . . nature .... of course . . . ."
stammered Avdyei.— " Of course .... it is
pleasant to stroll in the evening, although, I must

144

THE BULLY

confess, that I am a soldier, and softness is n't
in my line."

LutchkofF was given to frequently repeating
that he was a " soldier." A brief silence ensued.
Masha continued to gaze at the meadow.

" Shall not I go away? " —thought Avdyei.—
" What nonsense ! Be bolder ! . . . Marya Ser-
gyeevna . . . ."—he began with a fairly firm
voice.

Masha turned her head.

" Excuse me,"— he began, as though jesting:

" but permit me on my side to inquire what
you think of me ; whether you feel any .... you
know .... inclination toward my person? "

" Good heavens, how clumsy he is ! " said Ma-
sha to herself.—" Do you know, Mr. LutchkofF,"
—she answered him with a smile,—" that it is
not always easy to give a definite reply to a defi-
nite question? "

" But ... ."

" But why do you ask? "

:< Why, good gracious, I want to know. ..."

" But .... is it true that you are a great
duellist? Tell me, is it true? " —said Masha, with
timid curiosity. — " They say that you have killed
more than one man already."

£ That has happened," — returned Avdyei, in-
differently, and stroked his moustache.

Masha gazed intently at him.

:c With this hand here . . . ." she whispered.
145

THE BULLY

In the meantime, the blood had begun to wax
hot in Lutchkoff. For more than a quarter of
an hour already a pretty young girl had been
moving about before him. . . .

" Marya Sergyeevna,"— he began again in a
sharp, strange voice,— "you know my feelings
now, you know why I wished to see you. . . .
You have been so kind. . . . Now do you tell
me, at last, what I may hope for. ..."

Masha was twirling a wild pink in her hands.
.... She darted a sidelong glance at Lutch-
koff, blushed, smiled, and said:— "What non-
sense you are talking!" and gave him the
flower.

Avdyei seized her hand.

" So you love me! "—he exclaimed.

Masha turned cold all over with terror. She
had had no thought of confessing love to Avdyei ;
she herself did not yet know for a surety whether
she loved him, and here he was forestalling her,
forcibly making her speak out— he could not
have understood her. . . . This thought flashed
through Masha's mind more quickly than light-
ning. She had not in the least expected so speedy
a conclusion. . . . Masha, like a curious child,
had been asking herself all day: " Is it possible
that Lutchkoff loves me? " She had been dream-
ing of a pleasant evening stroll, tender and re-
spectful speeches; she had mentally coquetted,
had tamed her savage, had permitted him, at

146

THE BULLY

parting, to kiss her hand .... and instead of
that ....

Instead of that, she suddenly felt Avdyei's
stiff moustache on her cheek. . . .

" Let us be happy," he whispered:— " for there
is but one happiness on earth! . . . ."

Masha shuddered, sprang aside in affright, all
pale, and halted, with her hand resting against
a birch-tree. Avdyei was terribly confused.

" Forgive me,"— he stammered, moving to-
ward her:— " I really did not think . . . ."

Masha stared at him in silence, with all her
eyes. . . .

His lips curled in a disagreeable smile ....
red spots started out on his face. . . .

"What are you afraid of?"— he went on.
" What a fuss about nothing ! For between us
everything is already .... you know . . . ."

Masha made no reply.

" Come, stop that! .... What folly is this?
It 's only

Lutchkoff stretched out his hand toward her. . .

Masha recalled Kister and his "Beware!"
nearly fainted with terror, and began to scream
in a decidedly shrill voice :

"Taniusha!"

From behind a hazel-bush popped forth the

round face of her maid. . . . Avdyei completely

lost himself. Reassured by the presence of her

servant, Masha did not stir from the spot. But

147

THE BULLY

the bully began to quiver all over with a fit of
wrath ; his eyes grew narrow ; he clenched his fists,
and began to laugh loudly and convulsively.

"Bravo! Bravo! 'T is clever— there 's no
denying that! "—he shouted.

Masha was petrified.

" I see that you have taken all measures of pre-
caution, Marya Sergyeevna! Precaution never
comes amiss. Who ever heard of such a thing?
Nowadays the young ladies are more sharp-
sighted than the old men. There 's love for you! "

" I do not know, Mr. Lutchkoff, who has given
you the right to speak of love .... of what
sort of love? "

"Who, did you say? Why, you yourself!"
—Lutchkoff interrupted her.— There it was
again: he was conscious that he was ruining
the whole business, but he could not restrain him-
self.

" I have acted thoughtlessly,"— said Masha.
..." I condescended to your entreaty with con-
fidence in your delicatesse .... but you do not
understand French— in your courtesy. ..."

Avdyei turned pale. Masha had struck him
straight in the heart!

>£ I don't understand French . . . possibly ;
but I do understand .... I do understand that
it has pleased you to make sport of me."

"Not at all, Avdyei Ivanovitch. ... I am
even very sorry for you."

148

THE BULLY

" Please do not talk about your compassion,"
—Avdyei interrupted her testily:— " you may,
at least, spare me that! "

" Mr. Lutchkoif

" And be so good as not to look like a duch-
ess. . . 5T is labour wasted! You can't
frighten me! "

Masha retreated a pace, wheeled swiftly round,
and walked away.

" Do you command me to send you your
friend, your shepherd, the sentimental Lovey-
dovey Kister? " —Avdyei shouted after her. He
had lost his head.—" Is n't he thy friend? "

Masha did not answer him, and beat a hasty,
a joyful retreat. She felt at ease, in spite of
the alarm and agitation. She seemed to have
awakened from a painful dream, to have emerged
from a dark chamber into the air and sunlight.
. . . Avdyei, like a fanatic, stared around him,
with dumb rage broke off a young sapling,
sprang on his horse, and dug his spurs into it so
viciously, so pitilessly twisted and tugged at the
bridle, that the unhappy animal, after gallop-
ing eight versts in a quarter of an hour, came
near dying that same night. . .

Kister waited in vain until midnight for
LutchkofF, and on the following morning he
went to him. The orderly informed Feodor Feo-
dorovitch that his master was asleep, and had
given orders that no one was to be admitted.

149

THE BULLY

" Not even me? "— " Not even your Well-Born."
—Kister walked the length of the street twice in
torturing uneasiness, then went home. His man
handed him a note.

" From whom is it? "

" From the PerekatofFs, sir. Artyomka, the
valet, brought it."

Kister's hands trembled.

' They ordered their compliments to be pre-
sented to you. They requested an answer. Do
you command that vodka be given to Artyomka,
sir?"

Kister slowly unfolded the note, and read the
following :

DEAR, KIND FEODOR FEODOROVITCH !

I want very, very much to see you. Come to-day,
if you can. Do not refuse my request,! beg of you, in the
name of our old friendship. If you only knew ....
but you shall know all. Au revoir — is it not?

P. S. Be sure to come to-day. MARIE.

"And do you command, sir, that vodka be
given to Artyomka, the valet? "

Kister stared for a long time, with amazement,
into his man's face, and left the room without
uttering a word.

1 The master has commanded to give thee
vodka, and has commanded me to have a drink
with thee,"— said Kister's man to Artyomka, the
valet.

150

THE BULLY

IX

WHEN Kister entered the drawing-room, Ma-
sha came to meet him with so bright and noble a
face, pressed his hand so firmly and in so friendly
a manner, that his heart began to beat violently
with joy, and a stone was rolled away from his
breast. But Masha said not a word to him, and
immediately left the room. Sergyei Sergyee-
vitch was sitting on the divan, and laying out a
game of patience. A conversation began. Be-
fore Sergyei Sergyeevitch had managed, accord-
ing to his habit, to bring the subject round to his
dog in circuitous fashion, Masha re-entered with
a plaid silk sash on her gown,— Kister 's favourite
sash. Nenila Makarievna made her appearance
and welcomed Feodor Feodorovitch cordially.
At dinner they all laughed and jested; even
Sergyei Sergyeevitch grew animated, and nar-
rated one of the merriest pranks of his boyhood,
—and as he did so, he hid his head from his wife,
like an ostrich.

" Let us go for a walk, Feodor Feodorovitch,"
—said Masha to Kister after dinner, with
that affectionate authority in her voice which
seems to know that you will be glad to obey
it.— " I must have a chat with you about an im-
portant, a very important matter," — she added,
with graceful solemnity, as she drew on her

151

THE BULLY

suede gloves.— " Wilt thou come with us,
maman? "

" No,"— replied Nenila Makarievna.

" But we will not go into the park."

" Where then? "

" To the Long Meadow, to the grove."

" Take Taniusha with you."

" Taniusha, Taniusha! "—cried Masha, ring-
ingly, as she fluttered out of the room more
lightly than a bird.

A quarter of an hour later Masha was walk-
ing with Kister in the Long Meadow. As they
passed the herd, she fed her favourite cow with
bread, patted her head, and made Kister pet her.
Masha was merry, and chattered a great deal.
Kister willingly fell in with her mood, although
he was impatiently awaiting an explanation.
.... Taniusha walked behind at a respectful
distance, and only now and then cast a sly glance
at her young mistress.

" You are not vexed with me, Feodor Feodoro-
vitch? "—asked Masha.

" At you, Marya Sergyeevna? Good heavens,
for what? "

"Day before yesterday ... do you remem-
ber?"

' You were out of sorts .... that is all."

'c Why are we walking apart? Give me your
arm. There, that 's right. . . And you were
out of sorts, too."

" So I was."

152

THE BULLY

" But to-day I am in good spirits, am I not? "

" Yes, to-day I think you are. ..."

" And do you know why? Because . . ." —
Masha nodded her head gravely.—" Well, I
know why. . . . Because I am with you,"— she
added, without looking at Kister.

Kister gently pressed her arm.

" But why don't you question me? . . ." said
Masha in a low voice.

" What about? "

" Come, don't pretend .... about my let-
ter."

" I was waiting. ..."

" That Js why I feel so cheerful with you,"-
Masha interrupted him with vivacity: — " because
you are a kind, tender man; because you are in-
capable of ... parce que vous avez de la de-
licatesse. One can say that to you; you under-
stand French."

Kister did understand French, but he posi-
tively did not understand Masha.

" Pluck that flower for me — that one yonder
. . . how pretty it is! "—Masha admired it, and
all of a sudden, swiftly freeing her arm, she
began, with an anxious smile, cautiously to thrust
the supple stem through the buttonhole of Kis-
ter's coat. Her slender fingers almost touched
his lips. He gazed at those fingers, then at her.
She nodded her head, as much as to say: " You
may ..." Kister bent down, and kissed the
tips of her gloves. . .

153

THE BULLY

In the meantime, they had drawn near the
familiar grove. Masha suddenly became more
pensive, and at last fell silent altogether. They
came to the very spot where LutchkofF had
waited for her. The trampled grass had not yet
succeeded in lifting itself; the broken sapling
had already withered, its leaves had already be-
gun to curl up into tubes and dry. Masha swept
a glance around, and suddenly turned to Kister.

" Do you know why I have brought you
hither? "

" No, I do not know."

" You don't know? . . . Because you have
said nothing to me to-day about your friend
Mr. LutchkofF. You have always praised
him. . . ."

Kister dropped his eyes and remained silent.

" Do you know," — enunciated Masha, not
without an effort:— " that I appointed with him
... a tryst .... here . . . yesterday evening? "

" I knew it,"-replied Kister, dully.

"You knew it? ... Ah! now I understand
why, the day before yesterday .... Mr.
Lutchkoff, evidently, made haste to boast of his
conquest."

Kister made an attempt to reply. . . .

"Don't speak; don't makeSjne any answer.
.... I know— he is your friend; you are ca-
pable of defending him. You knew, Kister, you
knew. . . How is it that you did not prevent

154

THE BULLY

my perpetrating such a piece of folly? Why
did n't you pull my ears, as though I had
been a child? You knew .... and you did not
care?"

" But what right had I? . . ."

"What right! .... The right of a friend.
But he is your friend. ... I am ashamed, Kis-
ter. . . He is your friend. . . That man treated
me yesterday so . ..."

Masha turned away. Kister's eyes flashed; he
turned pale.

" Come, enough, don't get angry. . . . Do
you hear me, Feodor Feodorovitch, don't get
angry. Everything is for the best. I am very
glad of yesterday's explanation . . . precisely
that— explanation,"— added Masha.— "For what
purpose, think you, have I spoken to you about
this? In order to complain of Mr. Lutchkoff?
Not at all! I have forgotten all about him. But
I am to blame toward you, my kind friend. . . I
want to explain myself, to beg your forgiveness
. . . your advice. You have taught me to be
frank; I am at my ease with you. . . . You are
not a Mr. Lutchkoff!"

" Lutchkoff is awkward and rough," — said
Kister with difficulty:— " but . . ."

:£ What is that but? Are n't you ashamed to
say f but J? He is rough, and awkward, and ma-
licious, and self -conceited. . . And, do you hear?
not but."

155

THE BULLY

" You are speaking under the influence of
wrath, Marya Sergyeevna,"— said Kister, sadly.

"Wrath? What sort of wrath? Look at
me: is this the way people look when they are
wrathful? Listen,"— pursued Masha:— " think
of me as you will .... but if you imagine
that I am coquetting to-day with you out of
revenge, then— then . . . ." Tears welled
up in her eyes:— "Then I shall be seriously
angry."

" Be frank with me, Marya Sergyeevna. ..."

" Oh, you stupid man ! Oh, dull-witted one !
Why, look at me. Am not I frank with you?
Don't you see through and through me? "

"Very well .... yes; I believe you," —
went on Kister with a smile, seeing with what
anxious persistence she sought his gaze;— "but
come now, tell me, what prompted you to ap-
point a meeting with Lutchkoif? "

:< What? I don't know myself. He wanted to
talk with me alone. It seemed to me that he had
not yet had time, or the opportunity to say all he
wished. Now he has spoken out! Listen! Per-
haps he is a remarkable man, but he is— stupid;
really he is. . . He does n't know how to utter
two words. He 's — downright discourteous.
However, I do not blame him so very much . . .
he may have thought that I was a giddy, crazy
little girl. I had hardly ever talked with him.
.... He really did arouse my curiosity, but I

156

THE BULLY

imagined that a man who deserved to be your
friend

" Please do not speak of him as my friend,"—
Kister interrupted her.

" No, no, I don't want to bring about a quarrel
between you."

" Oh, my God, for your sake I am ready to
sacrifice not only my friend, but even .... Be-
tween me and Mr. LutchkofF all is at an end! "
—added Kister, hastily. Masha gazed intently
into his face.

" Well, I Ve done with him!"— said she.—
" Let us not talk of him. It is a lesson to me for
the future. I myself am to blame. For several
months in succession I have seen almost every
day a kind, clever, merry, affectionate man,
who . . . ." Masha became confused and hesi-
tated:—"who, I think, also . . . liked me . . .
a little . . . and I, the stupid,"— she added
quickly,— " preferred to him .... no, no, did
not prefer, but . . . ."

She bent her head, and fell silent with con-
fusion.

Kister was startled.— " It cannot be!"— he
kept reiterating to himself.

" Marya Sergyeevna! " —he said at last.

Masha raised her head and let her eyes rest on
him, burdened with unshed tears.

" You do not guess of whom I am speaking? "
she asked.

157

THE BULLY

Hardly breathing, Kister extended his hand.
Masha immediately grasped it with fervour.

" You are my friend, as before, are you not? "
. . . Why do not you answer? "

" I am your friend, you know that,"— he stam-
mered.

" And you do not condemn me? ... you un-
derstand me? You will not laugh at a girl who
yesterday appointed a rendezvous for one man,
and to-day is already talking with another as I
am talking with you. . . . You will not laugh
at me, will you? "... Masha's face reddened;
with both hands she clung to Kister's hand. . . .

" Laugh at you,"— replied Kister:—" I . . . .
I .... why, I love you .... I love you! "
he exclaimed.

Masha covered her face.

" Is it possible that you have not known this
long time, Marya Sergyeevna, that I love you? "

THREE weeks after this interview, Kister was
sitting alone in his room, and writing the follow-
ing letter to his mother:

DEAR MAMMA :

I hasten to share with you a great joy; I am going
to be married. This news will probably surprise you
only because, in my previous letters, I have not even

158

THE BULLY

hinted at such a grave change in my life,— but you
know that I am in the habit of sharing with you
all my feelings, my joys and my sorrows. It is easy
for me to explain to you the cause of my silence.
In the first place, I only recently learned myself that I
am beloved; and, in the second place, on my side, I as
recently felt the full power of my own attachment. In
one of my first letters from here, I spoke to you of the
Perekatoff s, our neighbours ; I am going to marry their
only daughter, Marya. I am firmly convinced that we
shall both be happy ; she has excited in me not a momen-
tary passion, but a deep, genuine feeling, in which friend-
ship is combined with love. Her cheerful, gentle dispo-
sition entirely corresponds to my inclinations. She is
cultured, clever, plays beautifully on the piano. . . .
If you could only see her!! I send you her portrait,
sketched by myself. It is unnecessary to say, I think,
that she is a hundred times better than her portrait.
Masha already loves you like a daughter, and is im-
patiently awaiting the day of meeting you. I intend
to retire from the service, settle down in the country,
and busy myself with agriculture. The old man Pere-
katoff has four hundred serfs in excellent condition.
You see, that from the material point of view also,
it is impossible not to laud my decision. I shall get a
leave of absence, and go to Moscow and to you. Expect
me a fortnight hence, not later. My dear, good mamma
—how happy I am! .... Embrace me". . . . and so
forth.

Kister folded and sealed his letter, rose, went
to the window, lighted his pipe, reflected a while,

159

THE BULLY

and returned to the table. He got a small sheet
of paper, carefully dipped his pen in the ink,
but for a long time did not begin to write, con-
tracted his brows, raised his eyes to the ceiling,
nibbled the end of his pen. ... At last he made
up his mind— and in the course of a quarter of
an hour, he had composed the following missive:

DEAR SIR,

AVDYEI IVANOVITCH:

Ever since the day of your last call (that is to say,
for the last three weeks), you have not bowed to me,
have not spoken to me, and seem to avoid meeting me.
Every man is, indisputably, free to act as he likes ; it has
suited you to break off our acquaintance — and I, believe
me, am not appealing to you with a complaint against
you; I have no intention, and am not accustomed to
force myself on any one whomsoever; the consciousness
of my own uprightness is sufficient for me. I write to
you now from a sense of duty. I have proposed to
Marya Sergyeevna Perekatoff, and have received her
consent, and also the consent of her parents. I impart
this information — directly and immediately to yo u, with
a view to avoiding all misunderstandings and suspicions.
I frankly confess to you, my dear sir, that I cannot care
overmuch for the opinion of a man who himself pays
not the slightest heed to the opinions and feelings of
other people, and I write to you solely because, in this
case, I do not wish to appear to have acted or to be
acting stealthily. I venture to say, that you know me,
and will not ascribe to my present act any other, any
evil significance. Speaking to you now, for the last

160

THE BULLY

time, I cannot refrain from wishing you, in memory of
our former friendship, all possible earthly blessings.
With sincere respect, I remain, my dear sir,
Your humble servant,

FEODOR KISTER.

Feodor Feodorovitch despatched this note to
its address, dressed himself, and ordered his ca-
lash to be brought round. Cheerful and care-free
he strode about his little chamber, humming; he
even gave a couple of skips, twisted a copy-book
of romances into a tube, and tied it up with blue
ribbon. . . . The door opened— and in his coat,
devoid of epaulets, with his cap on his head,
Lutchkoif entered. The astounded Kister came
to a halt in the middle of the room, without hav-
ing finished tying the bow.

' You are going to marry the PerekatofF
girl? "—asked Avdyei in a calm voice.

Kister flared up.

"My dear sir," — he began:— "on entering a
room, decent people take off their caps and say
good morning."

" Excuse me, sir," retorted the bully, abruptly,
and removed his cap.— " Good morning."

" Good morning, Mr. Lutchkoff . You ask
me whether I am going to marry Miss Pereka-
toif? Have n't you read my letter? "

" I have read your letter. You are going to be
married. I congratulate you."

161

THE BULLY

" I accept your congratulations and thank you.
But I must go."

" I should like to have an explanation with you,
Feodor Feodorovitch."

" Certainly, with pleasure,"— replied the
good-natured fellow.—" I must confess that
I have been expecting this explanation. Your
conduct toward me has been so strange, and
I, on my side, I think, have not deserved ....
at least, I had no reason to expect .... But
will not you sit down? Will not you have a
pipe?"

LutchkofF sat down. Languor was percep-
tible in all his movements. He twitched his mous-
tache and elevated his eyebrows.

4 Tell me, Feodor Feodorovitch," — he began
at last:— "why did you dissemble so long with
me?"

;< What do you mean by that? "

:< Why did you pretend to be such aN. . . such
an immaculate creature, when you are just such
another man as the rest of us sinners? "

" I do not understand you. . . . Have I of-
fended you in any way? " . . . .

' You do not understand me ... let us say.
I will try to speak more plainly. Tell me, for
example, frankly: is it long that you have felt
an inclination for Miss Perekatoff, or have you
flamed up suddenly with passion? "

" I should prefer not to talk with you, Avdyei
162

THE BULLY

Ivanitch, about my relations to Marya Sergye-
evna," — replied Kister, coldly.

" Just so, sir. As you please. Only, do me the
favour to allow me to think that you have de-
ceived me."

Avdyei spoke very slowly, and with pauses
between his words.

' You cannot think that, Avdyei Ivanitch.
You know me. ..."

" I know you? . . . who knows you? Another
man's soul is a dark forest, and wares are judged
by their appearance. I know that you read Ger-
man poems with great feeling, and even with
tears in your eyes; I know that you have hung
various geographical maps on the walls of your
quarters; I know that you keep your person neat;
I know this .... and I know nothing more."

Kister began to wax wroth.

" Permit me to inquire,"— he asked at last:—
" what is the object of your visit? You have
not bowed to me for three weeks, and now you
have come to me, apparently with the intention
of jeering at me. I am not a small boy, my
dear sir, and I will not allow any one . . . ."

" Good gracious,"— LutchkofF interrupted
him:— "good gracious, Feodor Feodorovitch,
who would dare to jeer at you? On the contrary,
I came to you with a most humble entreaty;
namely: do me the favour to explain to me your
treatment of me. Allow me to ask, was it not

163

THE BULLY

you who forcibly made me acquainted with
the Perekatoff family? Was it not you who
assured your humble servant that he was blos-
soming out in soul? Was it not you, in con-
clusion, who brought me and the virtuous
Marya Sergyeevna together? Why should not
I assume that I am indebted to you for that last
agreeable explanation, of which you have, prob-
ably, been duly informed? Of course, a be-
trothed bride tells her bridegroom everything,
especially her innocent pranks. Why should not
I think that it was thanks to you, that I got so
magnificently ridiculed? You have taken so
much interest in my ' blossoming,' you see."

Kister paced the room.

" Hearken to me, Lutchkoff,"— he said at last:
—"if you really, without jesting, are convinced
of what you say,— which, I must confess, I do
not believe,— then permit me to say to you: it is
a sin and a shame for you to interpret my actions
and my intentions so offensively. I will not
defend myself .... I appeal to your own con-
science, to your memory."

' Yes ; I remember that you were incessantly
whispering with Marya Sergyeevna. Over and
above that, permit me to inquire again of you:
were not you at the Perekatoffs' after a certain
conversation with me? After that evening, when,
I, like a fool, blabbed to you, to my best friend,
about the rendezvous appointed to me?"

164

THE BULLY

"What! You suspect me of

" I suspect no one else of anything,"— Avdyei
interrupted him with deadly coldness,—" of
which I do not suspect myself ; but I also have the
weakness to think that other people are no better
than I am."

' You are mistaken," — retorted Kister, hotly;
— " other people are better than you."

" On which I have the honour to congratulate
them," calmly remarked Lutchkoff: " but ... ."

" But,"— broke in the irritated Kister in his
turn:— " remember, what expressions you used
in speaking of .... that meeting, of ....
However, these explanations lead to nothing, I
see. . . . Think of me as you see fit, and act as
you like."

" There now, that 's better,"— remarked
Avdyei.— "At last we have begun to talk
frankly."

" As you like! "—repeated Kister.

" I understand your position, Feodor Feodo-
rovitch," — pursued Avdyei with feigned sym-
pathy.— " It is disagreeable, really disagreeable.
A man has played, and played a part, and no
one has detected the actor in him; all of a sud-
den ... ."

" If I could think,"— Kister interrupted him,
setting his teeth;— " that wounded love was now
speaking in you, I might feel compassion for
you, I might excuse you. . . . But in your re-

165

THE BULLY

preaches, in your calumnies, merely the shriek of
injured vanity is audible .... and I feel no
pity whatever for you. . . . You have deserved
your fate."

" Phew! my God, how the man does talk! "
remarked Avdyei in an undertone.— :< Vanity,"
—he went on:—" perhaps so; yes, yes, the vanity
in me was deeply, intolerably wounded, as you
say. But who is there that is not vain? Not you,
surely? Yes, I am vain, and, for example, I
will not permit any one to pity me. ..."

"You will not permit? "—retorted Kister,
haughtily.— " What an expression, my dear sir!
Do not forget: the bond between us was broken
by you yourself. I beg that you will treat me as
you would a stranger."

" Broken! The bond was broken! " —repeated
Avdyei— " understand me: I have not bowed to
you, and have not been to see you, out of com-
passion for you; for you will allow me to pity
you, if you pity me ! ... I did not wish to place
you in a false position, to awake in you the
gnawing of conscience. . . . You speak of our
bond .... as though you could remain my
friend as of yore after your marriage ! Enough
of that! You only associated with me before
for the sake of comforting yourself with your im-
aginary superiority. . . ."

Avdyei's bad faith had exhausted, had irritated
Kister.

166

THE BULLY

" Let us put an end to this unpleasant conver-
sation!"—he exclaimed at last.— " I must con-
fess, that I do not understand why it has pleased
you to favour me with a call."

" You do not understand why I came to you? "
— inquired Avdyei with curiosity.

" I positively do not understand."

" No-o? "

" No, I tell you. . . ."

"Amazing! . . . This is amazing! Who
would have expected this from a man with your
brains? "

;c Well, then, be so good as to explain, in
short. . . ."

" I came, Mr. Kister," — said Avdyei, slowly
rising from his seat: — " I came to challenge you
to a duel, do you understand? I wrant to fight
with you. Ah! You thought you were going to
get rid of me so easily? But did n't you know
with what sort of a man you had to deal? Would
I permit . . . ."

:< Very good, sir,"— Kister interrupted him
coldly and curtly. — " I accept your challenge.
Be so good as to send your second to me."

£ Yes, yes,"— went on Avdyei, who, like a cat,
was loath to release his victim so speedily;—
" I must admit that I shall take great pleasure
to-morrow in aiming the muzzle of my pistol at
your fair and ideal face."

' You are employing opprobrious language
167

THE BULLY

after the challenge, I believe," retorted Kister,
scornfully.—" Be so good as to leave the room.
I am ashamed for you."

" We know all about that delicatesse! . . .
Ah, Marya Sergyeevna! I don't understand
French!35— growled Avdyei, as he put on his
cap. _" Farewell until our pleasant meeting,
Feodor Feodorovitch ! "

He bowed and withdrew.

Kister strode up and down the room several
times. His face was burning, his breast heaved
high. He was not intimidated, and he was not
angry; but it disgusted him to think what sort of
a man he had once accounted his friend. He al-
most rejoiced at the thought of the duel with
Lutchkoff . ... To rid himself, at one stroke, of
the past, to leap over that stone, and then float
along on a tranquil river. ..." Splendid! " he
thought;—" I shall conquer my happiness."

Masha's image seemed to be smiling upon him
and promising victory.

" I shall not perish! No, I shall not perish! "
—he repeated with a calm, firm smile.

On the table lay the letter to his mother. . . .
His heart contracted within him for a moment.
He decided, in any case, to delay sending it off.
There had taken place* in Kister that augmenta-
tion of the vital force, which a man notices in
himself in the face of danger. He calmly turned
over in his mind all the possible results of the

168

THE BULLY

duel, mentally subjected himself and Masha to
the test of unhappiness and separation— and
gazed on the future with hope. He gave himself
his word of honour that he would not kill Lutch-
kofF. . . . He felt irresistibly drawn to Masha.
He hunted up a second, hastily put his affairs in
order, and immediately after dinner went to the
PerekatofFs'. All the evening Kister was merry
—too merry, perhaps.

Masha played a great deal on the piano, had
no forebodings, and flirted charmingly with him.
At first he felt aggrieved at her unconcern, later
on he took that same unconcern on Masha's part
for a happy augury— and rejoiced and calmed
down. She was becoming more and more at-
tached to him every day; the need for happiness
was stronger in her than the need for passion.
Moreover, Avdyei had weaned her from all ex-
aggerated desires, and she had renounced them
gladly and forever. Nenila Makarievna loved
Kister like a son. Sergyei Sergyeevitch, as was
his habit, imitated his wife.

" Farewell until we meet again," — said Masha
to Kister, as she escorted him to the anteroom,
and with a quiet smile watched how long and
tenderly he kissed her hand.

" Until we meet again,"— replied Feodor Feo-
dorovitch with confidence:— " until we meet
again."

But, when he had got half a verst from the
169

THE BULLY

Perekatoff s' house, he half -rose in his calash, and
with confused disquietude began to seek with
his eyes the lighted windows. . . . Everything
in the house was already as dark as in the grave.

XI

ON the following day, at eleven o'clock in the
morning, Kister's second, an old, tried Major,
came to him. The kind-hearted old man was
growling and biting his grey moustache, and
wishing every sort of harm to Avdyei Ivanovitch.
. . . The calash was brought round. Kister handed
the Major two letters, one to his mother, the
other to Masha.

" What 's this for? "

" Why, one cannot teU . . ."

:t What nonsense! We are going to shoot him
like a partridge."

" Nevertheless, it is better. . . ."

The Major, with vexation, thrust the two let-
ters into the side pocket of his coat.

They set off. In a small wood, a couple of
versts from the village of Kirilovo, Lutchkoff
was awaiting them with his second, his former
friend, the perfumed regimental Adjutant. The
weather was magnificent, the birds were twitter-
ing peaceably; not far from the wood a peasant
was ploughing the land. While the seconds were
measuring off the distance, and fixing the bar-

170

THE BULLY

riers, inspecting and loading the pistols, the
antagonists did not even glance at each other.
Kister, with a care-free mien, paced to and fro,
twirling a branch which he had broken off;
Avdyei stood motionless, with folded arms and
frowning brows. The decisive moment arrived.

" Begin, gentlemen! "

Kister walked swiftly to the barrier, but be-
fore he had taken five steps more, Avdyei fired.
Kister quivered, advanced another step, reeled,
bowed his head. . . . His knees gave way be-
neath him .... he fell on the grass like a sack.
The Major rushed to him. . . .

"Is. it possible?" .... whispered the dying
man.

Avdyei stepped up to the man he had killed.
On his gloomy and emaciated visage, fierce, ex-
asperated pity was expressed. . . . He glanced
at the Adjutant and the Major, bent his head
like a culprit, silently mounted his horse, and
rode at a foot-pace straight to the quarters of the
Colonel.

Masha .... is alive at the present day.

171

PYETUSHKOFF

(1847)

PYETUSHKOFF

IN the year 182. ., in the town of O***, dwelt
Lieutenant Ivan Af anasievitch Pyetushkoff.
He was descended from poor parents, had been
left a full orphan at the age of five years, and had
fallen into the hands of a guardian. Thanks to
his guardian, he turned out to have no property
whatsoever; he got along as best he might. He
was of medium height and stooped somewhat;
he had a thin face covered with freckles, but quite
pleasant, notwithstanding; dark chestnut hair,
grey eyes, and a timid look; numerous wrinkles
covered his low forehead. The whole of Pye-
tushkoff's life had passed in an extremely mo-
notonous manner ; at the age of forty he was still
as young and inexperienced as a child. He
shunned his acquaintances, and treated those on
whose destiny he might have an influence very
gently. . . .

People who are condemned by Fate to a mo-
notonous and cheerless life often acquire divers
habits and requirements. PyetushkoiF was fond
of eating a fresh, white roll of a morning with
his tea. Without that dainty he could not exist.

175

PYETUSHKOFF

And behold, one morning, his servant, Onisim,
instead of the roll, presented to him on a plate
three dark-reddish rusks.1 Pyetushkoff immedi-
ately, with some indignation, asked his servant
what was the meaning of that.

" The rolls were all gone,"— answered Onisim,
a native-born Petersburgian, who by the strange
play of Fate, had been carried to the very wilds of
southern Russia.

" Impossible! " —exclaimed Ivan Afanasie-
vitch.

"They were all gone,"— repeated Onisim;—
" the Marshal of the Nobility has a breakfast to-
day, so they all went there, you know."

Onisim swept his hand through the air and
thrust forward his right leg.

Ivan Af anasievitch walked through the room,
dressed himself and set out in person for the
baker's shop. The only establishment of that
sort in O*** had been set up ten years previously
by a newcomer, a German, had speedily thriven,
and was still flourishing at the present time,
under the management of his widow, a corpu-
lent woman.

Pyetushkoff knocked on the window. The fat
woman thrust her unhealthily -puffy and sleepy
face through the hinged pane.

" Please give me a white roll,"— said Pyetush-
koif, pleasantly.

1 Zwieback. —TRANSLATOR.

176

PYETUSHKOFF

:c We are out of rolls,"— squeaked the fat
woman.

" You have no rolls? "

" No."

" How is this?— good gracious. I buy a roll
from you every day and pay promptly."

The woman stared at him in silenced — " Take
a cracknel," — she said at last, with a yawn, — " or
a papliukha" l

" I won't,"— said Pyetushkoff.

" As you like,"— mumbled the woman, and
slammed to the pane.

Violent irritation seized upon Ivan Afanasie-
vitch. He retreated in perplexity to the other
side of the street, and gave himself up wholly,
like a child, to his displeasure.

" Sir! "... a fairly agreeable feminine voice
rang out.-" Sir!"

Ivan Afanasievitch raised his eyes. A young
girl of seventeen was peering forth through the
pane, and holding in her hand a white roll. She
had a round, plump face, small brown eyes, a
somewhat snub nose, reddish-blond hair, and
magnificent shoulders. Her features were ex-
pressive of good-nature, indolence and uncon-
cern.

" Here is a roll for you, sir,"— she said, laugh-
ing;— " I was going to take it for myself, but if
you wish, I will give it up to you."

1 A flat cake.— TRANSLATOR.

177

PYETUSHKOFF

"I thank you most sincerely. Permit me,
ma'am. . . ."

Pyetushkoff began to fumble in his pocket.

" Never mind; it is n't necessary, sir. Eat, and
may health be yours."

She closed the pane.

Pyetushkoff returned home in a thoroughly
agreeable frame of mind.

" See there now, thou didst not get a roll,"-
he said to his Onisim,— "but here, I have got
one; seest thou? . . . ."

Onisim grinned sourly.

That same day, in the evening, Ivan Af anasie-
vitch, as he was undressing, asked his servant:

" Tell me, my good fellow, please, what girl is
that yonder at the baker's, hey? "

Onisim glanced aside in a rather gloomy way,
and answered:— "But why do you want to
know? "

" Because,"— said Pyetushkoff, taking off his
boots with his own hands.

" She 's pretty, certainly! " —remarked Onisim,
condescendingly.

' Yes . . . she is n't bad-looking . . . ." said
Ivan Afanasievitch, also glancing aside. "And
what is her name— dost thou know? "

" Vasilisa."

" And art thou acquainted with her? "

Onisim made no answer for a while.

" I am, sir."

178

PYETUSHKOFF

PyetushkofF was on the point of opening his
mouth, but turned over on his other side and
went to sleep. Onisim withdrew into the ante-
room, took a pinch of snuiF, and twisted his head
round.

The next day, early in the morning, Pyetush-
kofF ordered his things for dressing to be given
him. Onisim brought Ivan Afanasievitch's
everyday coat — an old coat of grass-green hue,1
with huge, faded epaulets. PyetushkofF stared
long and silently at Onisim, then ordered him
to get his new coat. Onisim obeyed, not with-
out surprise. PyetushkofF dressed himself, and
carefully drew on his hands wash-leather gloves.

" Thou needest not go to the baker's shop to-
day, my good fellow,"— said he. "I will go
myself .... it is on my way."

" I obey, sir,"— replied Onisim, as abruptly as
though some one had punched him in the back.

PyetushkoiF set forth, reached the baker's shop,
and knocked at the little window. The fat
woman opened the pane.

" A roll, if you please,"— said Ivan Afanasie-
vitch, slowly.

The fat woman stuck out her arm, bare to the
very shoulder, and resembling a haunch rather
than an arm, and thrust the hot bread straight
under his nose.

1 The coats of officers in the majority of infantry regiments are dark
green. Dandified officers try to get the shade as dark as possible. —
TRANSLATOR.

179

PYETUSHKOFF

Ivan Afanasievitch stood still for a while in
front of the little window, paced up and down
the street a couple of times, cast a glance into the
courtyard, and, ashamed, at last, of his childish-
ness, returned home with the roll in his hand. All
day long he felt awkward, and even in the even-
ing, contrary to his wont, he did not enter into
conversation with Onisim.

On the following morning, also, Onisim went
again for the roll.

II

SEVERAL weeks passed. Ivan Afanasievitch had
totally forgotten Vasilisa, and chatted in friendly
wise with his servant as of yore. One fine
morning, Mr. Bublitzyn dropped in to see him,
—an easy -mannered and very amiable young
man. Truth to tell, he sometimes did not know
what he was saying, and was, as the saying is,
all awry, but, nevertheless, bore the reputation
of being a very agreeable companion. He
smoked a great deal, with feverish eagerness, ele-
vating his brows, drawing in his chest— smoked
with a careworn expression, or, to speak more
accurately, with an aspect which seemed to say,
" Let me take just one more, last whiff, and
I will immediately tell you an unexpected bit of
news " ; he even bellowed, sometimes, and waved
his hand, hastily sucking at his pipe, as though

180

PYETUSHKOFF

he had suddenly remembered something ex-
tremely amusing or important, opened his mouth,
emitted rings of smoke, and uttered the most
commonplace remarks, and sometimes maintained
utter silence.

After chatting awhile with Ivan Afanasie-
vitch about the neighbours, about horses, about
the young daughters of the landed proprietors,
and other edifying subjects, Mr. Bublitzyn sud-
denly puckered up his eyes, rumpled up his crest,
and, with a sly smile, stepped up to a remarkably
dim mirror, the only adornment of Ivan Af ana-
sievitch's room.

" Well, now, to tell the truth,"— he enunciated,
stroking his dark-brown side- whiskers,— " we
have here such women of the burgher class as
would put to shame your Venus of Mendintzi.
. . . For example, have you seen Vasilisa the
baker's girl? " . . . . Mr. Bublitzyn stretched
himself.

Pyetushkoff started.

"But why do I ask you? " —pursued Bubli-
tzyn, disappearing in a cloud of smoke,— "you 're
such a queer man, Ivan Afanasievitch!— God
knows what you do take an interest in, Ivan
Afanasievitch! "

" In the same things as you do," — said Pye-
tushkoff, not without irritation, and in a drawl.

:< Well, no, Ivan Afanasievitch, no. ... Why
do you say that? "

181

PYETUSHKOFF

" But what do you mean? "

"Well, the very idea, Ivan Afanasievitch! "

"But why? Why?"

Bublitzyn set his pipe in one corner, and began
to inspect his not entirely handsome boots. Pye-
tushkoff felt embarrassed.

" Because, Ivan Afanasievitch, because,"-
went on Bublitzyn, as though sparing him.—
" But as for Vasilisa, the baker's girl, I must in-
form you that she 's very, ve-ry pretty ....
ve-ry."

Strange to relate! Ivan Afanasievitch felt
something akin to jealousy. He began to fidget
about on his chair, he burst out laughing apropos
of nothing, he suddenly blushed, yawned, and as he
yawned, twisted his lower jaw somewhat. Bub-
litzyn smoked three pipes more and departed.
Ivan Afanasievitch walked to the window, sighed,
and ordered his man to give him a drink.

Onisim placed a glass of kvas 1 on the table,
cast a surly glance at his master, leaned his back
against the door, and hung his head.

" What art thou thinking about? "—inquired
his master, affectionately, and not without trepi-
dation.

"What am I thinking about? "—retorted
Onisim;- "what am I thinking about?
Always about you."

1 A sourish small beer made from sour black, rye bread, or rye meal,
by pouring on water and fermenting.— TRANSLATOR.

182

PYETUSHKOFF

" About me? "

" About you, of course."

" But what is it that thou art thinking? "

"Why, this is what I am thinking." (Here
Onisim took a pinch of snuff.) " Shame on you,
sir, shame on you."

" What have I to be ashamed of ?"....

" What have you to be ashamed of? ....
Why, just look at Mr. Bublitzyn, Ivan Afana-
sievitch. ... Is n't he a dashing fine fellow,
pray?"

" I don't understand thee, my good fellow."

6 You don't understand? .... Yes, you do
understand me."

Onisim paused.

" Mr. Bublitzyn is a real gentleman, as a gen-
tleman should be. But what are you, Ivan
Afanasievitch, what are you, pray? "

:< Well, I am a gentleman also."

" A gentleman, a gentleman . . ." retorted
Onisim, flying into a passion.— " Do you call
yourself a gentleman? You 're simply a wet
hen, Ivan Afanasievitch, good gracious! Here
you sit by yourself the livelong day . . . much
you will hatch out! You don't play cards,
you don't associate with the gentry, and as
for . . . ."

Onisim waved his hand with a gesture of de-
spair.

:< Well, anyhow .... I think thou art too
183

PYETUSHKOFF

. . . ." said Ivan Afanasievitch, clutching at
his Turkish pipe in confusion.

" Too what, Ivan Afanasievitch, too what?
Judge for yourself. Here now, about that
Vasilisa again. . . . Well, and why should n't
you "

" But what art thou thinking about, Onisim? "
— Pyetushkoff interrupted him sadly.

" I know what I 'm thinking. What then?
God bless us! But how can you? Good gra-
cious, Ivan Afanasievitch, you sit by yourself. . .
Certainly you. ..."

Ivan Afanasievitch rose to his feet.

" Come, come, please hold thy tongue,"— he
said briskly, and as though challenging Onisim
with his eyes.—" I also, thou knowest ... I ....
what dost thou mean, in fact? Thou hadst bet-
ter help me to dress."

Onisim slowly pulled off Ivan Af anasievitch's
greasy Tatar dressing-gown, with paternal sad-
ness gazed at his master, shook his head, got him
into his tight-fitting coat, and set to beating him
on the back with a dust-brush.

Pyetushkoff left the house, and after wan-
dering for a short time through the crooked
streets of the town, found himself in front of
the baker's shop. A strange smile played on
his lips.

Before he had time to cast a second glance
at the too-familiar establishment, the wicket-gate

184

PYETUSHKOFF

suddenly flew open, and Vasilisa ran out, with a
yellow kerchief on her head, and a short, wadded
jacket thrown over her shoulders, after the Rus-
sian fashion.1

" Whither dost thou deign to go, my dear? " 2

Vasilisa cast a quick glance at him, burst out
laughing, turned away, and covered her lips with
her hand.

:t To make purchases, I suppose? "—inquired
Ivan Afanasievitch, shifting from foot to foot.

" How curious you are," — retorted Vasilisa.

"Why do you call me curious? "—said Pye-
tushkofF, hastily brandishing his arms.— " Quite
the contrary, I .... I just— you know,"— he
added hurriedly, as though those four words
thoroughly explained his meaning.

" And did you enjoy my roll? "

" I certainly did, ma'am,"— replied Pyetush-
koff :— " it gave me particular satisfaction."

Vasilisa continued to walk along and laugh.

:< The weather is pleasant to-day," — pursued
Ivan Afanasievitch:— " do you often go for a
stroll? "

" I take a stroll sometimes, sir."

" Akh, how I wish that I . ..."

" What, sir? "

The young girls with us pronounce the words
" what, sir? " in a very strange, rather peculiarly

1 The jacket is called, literally, a "soul warmer." " Russian fash-
ion " means with the sleeves hanging unused.— TRANSLATOR.

2 Literally, "dear little dove."— TRANSLATOR.

185

PYETUSHKOFF

sharp and quick manner. . . . Partridges call
thus at dawn.

" Could I walk with you, ma'am, you know,
ma'am .... outside the town, perhaps. . . ."

"How is that possible?"

"Why is n't it possible?"

" Akh, how you do go on, really! "

" But permit me. . . ."

At this point there came hopping alongside of
them a petty merchant with a goat's beard and
fingers spread out in the shape of hooks to keep
his sleeves from falling down, clad in a long-
skirted bluish kaftan, and a warm wadded cap
with a visor, which resembled a swollen water-
melon. PyetushkofF, out of decorum, dropped
a little behind Vasilisa, but immediately caught
up with her again.

:c Well, and how is to be about the stroll,
ma'am? "

Vasilisa cast a roguish glance at him, and again
began to smile.

" Do you belong here in town? "

" I do, ma'am."

Vasilisa passed her hand over her hair, and
walked more slowly. Ivan Af anasievitch smiled,
and inwardly fainting with terror, bent a little
to one side, and with a tremulous arm, encircled
the beauty's waist.

Vasilisa shrieked.

" Stop that, you impudent thing, on the street."
186

PYETUSHKOFF

" Come, come, come, 't is nothing,"— muttered
Ivan Af anasievitch.

" Stop it, I tell you, in the street. . . . Don't
insult me."

" A .... a .... akh, what a spit-fire you are,"
—said PyetushkofF, reproachfully, and blushed
to his very ears.

Vasilisa halted.

" Go your way, sir, go. ..."

PyetushkoiF obeyed. He went home, sat for
a whole hour motionless on a chair, and did not
even smoke his pipe. At last he got a sheet of
greyish paper, mended his pen, and after long
reflection, he wrote the following letter:

DEAR MADAM,

VASILISA TIMOFYEEVNA:

Not being by nature an offensive man, how could I
cause you unpleasantness. But if I really am culpable
toward you, then, namely, I say to you, the hints of
Mr. Bublitzyn prompted me to that which I had not
in the least expected.

However, I respectfully request you not to be angry
with me. I am a susceptible man, and I am sensitive
to every caress and am grateful. Be not angry with
me, Vasilisa Timofyeevna, I entreat you most hum-
bly. However with my respects, I remain,

Your humble servant,

IVAN PYETUSHKOFF.

Onisim carried this letter to its address.
187

PYETUSHKOFF

III

Two weeks passed. . . . Onisim went to the
baker's shop every morning, according to his
custom. And lo! one day, Vasilisa ran out to
meet him.

" Good morning, Onisim Sergyeevitch."

Onisim assumed a surly aspect and said an-
grily:—" Morning."

" Why don't you ever drop in to see us, Onisim
Sergyeevitch?"

Onisim glared morosely at her.

" Why should I drop in? Thou wilt not treat
me to tea, I suppose? "

" I will, Onisim, I will give you tea. Only
come. And with rum."

Onisim gave a slow smile.

:t Well, as thou wilt, in that case."

" But when, my dear man, when? "

" When. . . . Ekh, thou

" This evening, does that suit you? Do drop

in."

:< I will, if you like,"— returned Onisim, and
trudged off homeward with a lazy and swagger-
ing gait.

That same day, in the evening, in a tiny cham-
ber, by the side of a bed covered with a striped
down quilt, at a clumsy table, sat Onisim oppo-
site Vasilisa. A huge dimly-yellow samovar

188

PYETUSHKOFF

stood hissing on the table; a pot of geranium
reared itself in front of the small window; in
one corner, near the door, stood sideways a hide-
ous trunk, with a tiny padlock ; on the trunk lay
a porous heap of various old odds and ends; on
the walls dirty little pictures made black spots.
Onisim and Vasilisa were drinking tea in silence,
as they gazed into each other's face, turned
their lumps of sugar long in their hands, as
though reluctant to nibble them,1 half -closed
their eyes, blinked, and drew the yellowish boil-
ing water through their teeth with a whistling
noise. At last they drank the samovar dry,
turned upside down 2 their round teacups with
inscriptions,— on one: "To Gratification," and
on the other: " It innocently Pierced,"— grunted
with satisfaction, mopped away the perspira-
tion, and began gradually to enter into con-
versation.

" What 's your master like, Onisim Sergye-
itch? "... inquired Vasilisa, and did not finish
her sentence.

:< What 's my master like? "... returned
Onisim and propped his head on his hand. 'T is

1 Poor Russians, especially of the peasant and petty burgher class,
nibble their sugar, and so economically sweeten their mouths instead
of the beverage. But Russians of all classes are fond of this method,
without regard to economy.— TRANSLATOR.

2 To indicate that they had finished. Russian lower-class etiquette,
enjoins that the cup be thus reversed as a sign that the invitation to
" have another cup " is definitively declined, and that further polite
urging (also a point of etiquette), is useless.— TRANSLATOR.

189

PYETUSHKOFF

well known what he is like. But what do you
want to know for? "

" I just asked, sir, at random," replied Vasilisa.

" Why, you know, he . . ." (here Onisim
grinned) :— " you know, he wrote a letter to you,
I believe."

" He did, sir."

Onisim wagged his head with an uncommonly
self-satisfied air.

" There now, there now,"— he said hoarsely,
and not without a smile.— :< Well, and what did
he write to you? "

:< Why, various things. ' I, Madam Vasilisa
Timof yeevna,' says he, ' am thus and so ; did n't
mean anything ; you are not to think ; you are not
to feel offended, madam ' ; and lots more of the
same sort he wrote. . . . Well,"— she added,
after a brief pause—" and what sort of a man
is he? "

" He exists,"— replied Onisim, indifferently.

" Has he a bad temper? "

"The idea! No, he has n't. Well, and do you
like him? "

Vasilisa dropped her eyes and laughed in her
sleeve.

" Come,"— growled Onisim.

" But what do you want to know for, Onisim
Sergyeitch?"

" Come, now, speak, I tell you."

:< What 's your master like? "—repeated Vasi-
190

PYETUSHKOFF

lisa, at last. " Of course .... I ... well, and
he 's so .... you know how it is yourself. ..."

"How can I help knowing? "—remarked
Onisim, pompously.

" For of course you are aware, Onisim Ser-
gyeitch . . . ."

Vasilisa was obviously becoming agitated.

"Do you say to him, to your master that is:
* I am not angry with him,' says she, ' and here,'
says she . . . ."

She began to stammer. . .

" We understand, ma'am,"— returned Onisim,
and slowly rose from his chair.—" We under-
stand, ma'am. Thanks for your hospitality."

" I hope you will favour me again with your
company."

" Well, all right, all right."

Onisim walked to the door. The fat woman
made her appearance in the room.

"How do you do, Onisim Sergyeitch? "—she
said in a sing-song tone.

" How do you do, Praskovya Ivanovna? " —he
replied, also in a sing-song tone.

Both stood still awhile facing each other.

" Well, good-bye, Praskovya Ivanovna,"—
said Onisim with his drawl.

" Well, good-bye, Onisim Sergyeitch,"— she
replied, also drawling.

Onisim returned home. His master was lying
on his bed, and staring at the ceiling.

191

PYETUSHKOFF

" Where hast thou been? "

"Where have I been?" . . . (Onisim had a
habit of reproachfully repeating the last words
of every question.) —"I have been about your
business."

"What business?"

"And don't you know? ... I have been to
Vasilisa's."

Pyetushkoff winked his eyes, and wriggled
on the bed.

" That 's exactly how it is,"— remarked Oni-
sim, and coolly took a pinch of snuff:— " that 's
exactly how it is, always like that. Vasilisa sends
her compliments to you."

"You don't say so?"

' You don't say so? That 's exactly how it is.
You don't say so ! .... She bade me say, ' Why
don't I see him? ' says she. * Why does n't he
come?' says she."

" Well, and what didst thou say? "

" What did I say? I said to her: ' Thou art
silly,'— I said to her;— 'will such folks come to
see thee? No, do thou come thyself,'— I said
to her."

:< Well, and what did she say? "

"What did she say? .... She .... no-
thing."

;< But what dost thou mean by nothing? "

' Everybody knows what nothing means."

Pyetushkoff maintained silence for a space.

:< Well, and will she come? "
192

PYETUSHKOFF

Onisim wagged his head.

" Come! .... You 're in an awful hurry,
sir. Come! .... No, but just you . . . ."

" Why, but thou saidst thyself that ....
you know . . . ."

"Much I did!"

Again Pyetushkoff remained silent awhile.

" Well, but what is the state of affairs, my
good fellow?"

"What is the state of affairs? .... You
ought to know best: you 're the master."

" Well, no, what is there

Onisim rocked himself to and fro in self -satis-
fied fashion.

"Do you know Praskovya Ivanovna? "—he
asked at last.

" No. What Praskovya Ivanovna? "

' The bake-shop woman? "

" Ah, yes, the bake-shop woman. I have seen
her: a very fat woman."

" A woman of importance. She 's your own
aunt by blood, you know."

"My aunt?"

" Why, did n't you know that? "

" No, I did not."

" Ekh!

Out of respect to his master, Onisim did not
utter the whole of his thought.

" There 's a person with whom you should get
acquainted."

" All right. I have no objection."
193

PYETUSHKOFF

Onisim gazed approvingly at Ivan Af anasie-
vitch.

" But why, in particular, ought I to make her
acquaintance? "—inquired Pyetushkoff.

"Just see there, now! "—returned Onisim,

coolly.

Ivan Afanasievitch rose, paced the room,
halted in front of the window, and, without turn-
ing his head, enunciated with some confusion:

"Onisim!"

" What, sir? "

" And won't I feel rather awkward, thou
knowest, with a woman, hey? "

" You know best."

" However, I only asked the question at ran-
dom. My comrades may notice; it 's always
rather .... However, I will think the matter
over. Give me my pipe. . . And so she,"— he
added after a brief pause: — " Vasilisa, I mean,
says . . . ."

But Onisim did not wish to prolong the con-
versation and assumed his habitual glum aspect.

IV

IVAN AFANASIEVITCH'S acquaintance with Pras-
kovya Ivanovna began in the following manner.
Five days after the conversation with Onisim,
Pyetushkoff set out one evening for the baker's
shop.— " Come," he said to himself, as he opened

194

PYETUSHKOFF

the creaking wicket-gate,— " I don't know what
will happen. . . ."

He mounted the porch, and opened the door.
A very large, crested hen darted straight under
his feet, with a deafening shriek, and for a long
time thereafter continued to scurry agitatedly
about the yard. The surprised face of the fat
woman gazed from the window of the adjoin-
ing room. Ivan Afanasievitch smiled and
nodded his head. The woman saluted him.
Clutching his hat tightly, Ivan Afanasievitch
approached her. Praskovya Ivanovna was, evi-
dently, expecting an honoured guest; all the
hooks of her gown were fastened. Pyetushkoff
seated himself on a chair; Praskovya Ivanovna
seated herself opposite him.

" I have come to you, Praskovya Ivanovna,
chiefly with regard to . ..." said Ivan Afana-
sievitch at last — and fell silent. His lips twitched
convulsively.

" I am glad to see you, dear little father," -
replied Praskovya Ivanovna in a sing-song tone,
and bowing. " I am glad to see any visitor."

Pyetushkoff summoned up a little courage.

" I have long wished, you know, to have the
pleasure of making your acquaintance, Prasko-
vya Ivanovna."

" Much obliged, Ivan Afanasievitch."

A pause ensued. Praskovya Ivanovna
mopped her face with a gay-coloured hand-

195

PYETUSHKOFF

kerchief; Ivan Afanasievitch stared somewhere
to one side with great attention. Both were
decidedly embarrassed. However, in merchant
and petty burgher circles, where even old friends
do not meet without queer angular grimaces,
a certain constraint in the manners of guest
and host not only does not strike any one as
strange, but, on the contrary, is regarded as
perfectly fitting and indispensable, especially at
a first interview. Praskovya Ivanovna was
pleased with PyetushkofF. He bore himself
decorously and properly, and nevertheless he was
a man with official rank !

" I am very fond of your rolls, dear little
mother, Praskovya Ivanovna,"— he said to her.

" Jist so, sir, jist so, sir."

' They are very good, you know, very."

" Eat, dear little father, and may health be
yours, eat. It gives me great pleasure."

" Even in Moscow I never ate such good ones."

" Jist so, sir, jist so, sir."

Again silence descended.

" But tell me, Praskovya Ivanovna,"— began
Ivan Afanasievitch:— "I believe you have a niece
living with you? "

" My own niece, dear little father."

' Well, . . . how comes she to be with you? "

" She is an orphan, and I support her, sir."

" And she is a good worker? "

" She is, dear little father, she is. Such a good
196

PYETUSHKOFF

worker that ih .... ih .... ih! ... Certainly, sir,
certainly, sir! "

Ivan Afanasievitch considered it decorous not
to enlarge further on the subject of the niece.

'' What sort of a bird have you in that cage,
Praskovya Ivanovna? "

" Why, God only knows. 'T is a bird."

" Hm! Well, good-bye, Praskovya Ivanovna."

" Good-bye, your Well-Born. I hope you will
favour us again. Come and drink tea."

" It will give me particular pleasure, Prasko-
vya Ivanovna."

PyetushkofF withdrew. On the porch he en-
countered Vasilisa. She burst out laughing.

"Whither are you going, my dear little dove? "
—said Ivan Afanasievitch, not without auda-
city.

" Come, stop that, stop that, you jester; what
a tease you are ! "

" He, he ! And did you get my note ? "

Vasilisa hid the lower part of her face in her
sleeve and made no reply.

" And you are not angry with me? "

'Vasilisa!" — quavered her aunt's voice: —
" hey, there, Vasilisa! "

Vasilisa ran into the house. PyetushkofF went
his way. But from that day forth he began to
visit the baker's shop frequently, and not in vain.
Ivan Afanasievitch, to speak in lofty style, at-
tained his end. The attainment of an end usu-

197

PYETUSHKOFF

ally cools men off, but PyetushkofF, on the con-
trary, grew more and more ardent with every
passing day. Love is a fortuitous affair ; it exists
of itself, as an art, and needs no justification,
like nature, some wise man has said, who himself
had never been in love, but reasoned admirably
about love. Pyetushkoff became passionately
attached to Vasilisa. He was perfectly happy.
His soul warmed up. Little by little he trans-
ferred all his belongings, at least all his Turkish
pipes, to Praskovya Ivanovna's house, and sat for
whole days together in her back room. Praskovya
charged him for his dinner, and drank his tea;
.consequently, she did not complain of his pres-
ence. Vasilisa got used to him, worked, sang,
and spun in his presence, and sometimes ex-
changed a couple of words with him; Pyetush-
koff gazed at her, smoked his pipe, rocked him-
self on his chair, laughed, and, during her leisure
hours, played duratchki [fool] with her and
Praskovya Ivanovna. Ivan Afanasievitch was

happy But there is nothing perfect on

earth, and however small a man's demands may
be, Fate never fully satisfies them, even spoils
things, if possible. . . . The spoonful of tar will
persist in falling into the barrel of honey!1
Ivan Afanasievitch made experience of this in
his own case. In the first place, ever since his

1 The Russian expression to indicate that one drop of bitterness
will ruin the sweetest of fates. —TRANSLATOR.

198

PYETUSHKOFF

removal to Vasilisa's, PyetushkofF had fallen
still more out' of touch with his comrades. He
saw them only on indispensable occasions, and
then, with a view to avoiding hints and jeers (in
which, by the way, he was not always successful) ,
he assumed the desperately-morose and concen-
tratedly-alarmed mien of a hare which is drum-
ming in the midst of fireworks. In the second
place, Onisim gave him no peace, lost all rever-
ence for him, obdurately persecuted him, and
put him to shame. In the third place, and in
conclusion .... Alas! read further, indulgent
reader.

ONE day Pyetushkoff (who, for the above-men-
tioned reasons, fared badly outside of Prasko-
vya Ivanovna's house) was sitting in the rear
room — Vasilisa's room — and busying himself
with some sort of domestic preparation, not pre-
cisely a preserve, nor yet precisely a liqueur. The
mistress of the house was not at home. Vasilisa
was sitting in the bake-shop and humming a song.
A tap came on the pane. Vasilisa rose, stepped
to the window, uttered a faint shriek, burst out
laughing, and began a whispered conversation
with some person or other. On returning to her
seat, she sighed, and began to sing louder than
before.

199

PYETUSHKOFF

" With whom wert thou chatting just now? "
— Pyetushkoff asked her.

Vasilisa continued to " break the viburnum-
bush." 1

"Vasilisa! Dost hear? Hey, Vasilisa? "

" What do you want? "

" With whom wert thou talking? "

" And why do you want to know? "

" Because I do."

PyetushkofF emerged from the back room in
a motley-hued Caucasian coat, with sleeves rolled
up and with a siphon in his hand.

" Why, with a good friend,"— replied Vasi-
lisa.

" With what good friend? "

" Why, with Piotr Petrovitch."

"With Piotr Petrovitch? .... With what
Piotr Petrovitch? "

" He 's a comrade of yours also. He has such
a queer name."

"Bublitzyn?"2

1 The viburnum, or wild snowball-tree, figures in many of the folk-
songs. " Breaking the viburnum-bush " is one of the traditional
rites connected with the peasant wedding. On the young couple's
table there is a ham and a square bottle of liquor corked with a bunch
of viburnum tied with a scarlet ribbon. The bridal pair are aroused,
and treating begins: they make the round of the homes of the bride's
relatives, parents and the members of her bridal-train (consisting of cer-
tain definitely-prescribed persons for bridegroom and bride), and the
wedding-guests. On their return, the best man (the eleventh in the
groom's train) cuts the ham, and pulling apart the cluster of vibur-
num, passes around the liquor. Every step of the traditional wed-
ding-ceremonial is accompanied by songs. Vasilisa was singing the
one appointed for the final stage, as above described.— TRANSLATOR.

2 Derived from bublik—a. large roll in the form of a ring.— TRANS-
LATOR.

200

PYETUSHKOFF

" Well, yes, yes. . . . Piotr Petrovitch."

" And dost thou know him? "

"I should think I did! "—returned Vasilisa,
nodding her head.

PyetushkofF paced up and down the room half
a score of times, in silence.

"Hearken to me, Vasilisa,"— he said at last:
— " in what way dost thou know him? "

" In what way do I know him? .... Why,
I do know him. . . . He 's such a nice gentle-

man."

" But how is he nice? How is he nice? How
is he nice? "

Vasilisa looked at Ivan Afanasievitch.

" He is," — she said slowly and with surprise. —
" Everybody knows what he is."

Pyetushkoff bit his lips and began to pace the
room again.

:< What wert thou talking about with him?
Hey? "

Vasilisa smiled and dropped her eyes.

"Come, speak, speak, speak, I tell thee, speak!"

" What a temper you are in to-day,"— re-
marked Vasilisa.

PyetushkofF made no answer.

" Well, no, Vasilisa,"— he began at last:—
" no, I will not be angry. . . . Come now, tell
me, what were you talking about? "

Vasilisa laughed.

l( That Piotr Petrovitch is such a joker,
really!"

201

PYETUSHKOFE

"How so?"

"Well, he is!"

Again Pyetushkoff made no reply.

" Vasilisa, thou lovest me, I think? "—he asked
her.

"Come, take yourself off!"

Poor Pyetushkoff's head grew oppressed.
Praskovya Ivanovna entered. They sat down to
dine. After dinner, Praskovya Ivanovna took
herself off to the platform over the oven.1 Ivan
Afanasievitch himself lay down by the oven,
nestled about for a while, and fell asleep. A cau-
tious creaking noise awoke him. Ivan Afanasie-
vitch half raised himself, propped himself on his
elbow, and looked: the door was open. He
sprang up— Vasilisa was gone. He ran into the
yard— and she was not in the yard; into the street
—and gazed hither and thither: Vasilisa was not
to be seen. Hatless, he ran clear to the market:
no Vasilisa was visible. Slowly he returned to
the baker's shop, climbed up on the oven, and
turned his face to the wall. He was heavy at
heart. Bublftzyn .... Bublitzyn .... that
name fairly rang in his ears.

" What 's the matter with thee, dear little fa-
ther? " -Praskovya Ivanovna asked him with a
sleepy voice.—" Why art thou groaning? "

"Nothing, dear little mother; 't was just by
accident. Nothing. I feel choked, somehow."

1 For sleeping. —TRANSLATOR.

202

PYETUSHKOFF

'T is the mushrooms,"— lisped Praskovya
Ivanovna, — " 't is all the mushrooms."

O Lord, have mercy upon us sinners!

One hour passed, then another— and still Vasi-
Hsa was absent. A score of times did Pyetush-
koff feel impelled to rise, and a score of times did
he sadly nestle down under the sheepskin coat,
. . . At last, however, he climbed down from the
oven and started to go home, and had already got
out into the yard, but turned back. Prasko-
vya Ivanovna had risen. Luka, the workman,
as black as a beetle, although he was a baker, was
putting the loaves in the oven. Again Pyetush-
koff went out on the porch and pondered. A
goat who dwelt in the courtyard made up to him,
and butted him slightly with his horns, in friendly
wise. Pyetushkoff glanced at him, and, God
knows why, said: " Kys, kys! " 1 All of a sudden,
the low-browed wicket-gate opened softly, and
Vasilisa made her appearance. Ivan Afanasie-
vitch went straight to meet her, took her by the
hand, and said to her with considerable coolness,
but quite firmly :

" Follow me."

" But excuse me, Ivan AfanasievitcH ....
I . ..."

" Follow me,"— he repeated.

She obeyed.

Pyetushkoff led her to his own lodgings.

1 Equivalent to: " Puss, puss!"— TRANSLATOR.

203

PYETUSHKOFF

Onisim, according to his habit, was sleeping,
stretched out at full length. Ivan Af anasievitch
woke him, and ordered him to light a candle.
Vasilisa walked to the window and seated her-
self in silence. While Onisim was fussing with
the light in the anteroom, PyetushkofF stood mo-
tionless at the other window, staring into the
street. Onisim entered, with the candle in his
hand, and started to grumble. . . . Ivan Af ana-
sievitch wheeled swiftly round.

" Leave the room,"— he said to him.

Onisim stopped short in the middle of the
room. . . .

" Leave the room this very instant! " —repeated
PyetushkofF, sternly.

Onisim cast a glance at his master, and left the
room.

Ivan Af anasievitch shouted after him:

"Begone, go away altogether! Leave the
house. Thou mayest return two hours hence."
• • Onisim took himself off.

PyetushkofF waited until the gate slammed,
and immediately approached Vasilisa.

" Where hast thou been? "

Vasilisa was disconcerted.

" Where hast thou been? I ask thee,"— he re-
peated.

Vasilisa cast a glance around her. . . .

"I am speaking to thee. . . . Where hast thou
been?"

204

PYETUSHKOFF

PyetushkofF began to raise his hand. . . .

" Don't beat me, Ivan Af anasievitch, don't
beat me . . . ." whispered Vasilisa in affright.

PyetushkofF turned away.

"Beat thee. ... No! I will not beat thee.
Beat thee? Forgive me, forgive me, my darling.
God bless thee! When I thought that thou didst
love me, when I .... when . . . ."

Ivan Af anasievitch stopped. He was choking.

"Listen, Vasilisa," — he said at last: "lam
a good-natured man, as thou knowest; thou dost
know that, Vasilisa, dost thou not? "

" I do,"— she stammered out.

" I do harm to no one, to no one, to no one
in the world. And I deceive no one. Then why
dost thou deceive me? "

" But I do not deceive thee, Ivan Af anasie-
vitch."

' Thou dost not deceive me? Well, good.
Well, good. Come, tell me, where hast thou
been? "

" I went to Matryona."

"Thouliest!"

" God is my witness, I went to see Matryona.

I Ask her if you do not believe me."
"And Bub .... come, what 's his name?
.... didst thou see that devil? "
" I did."
" Thou sawest him? Thou sawest him?— Ah!
thou sawest him? "
205

PYETUSHKOFF

Pyetushkoff turned pale.

" So thou didst make an appointment with
him this morning, at the window .... hey?
hey?"

" He asked me to come."

" And thou didst go. . . . Thanks, dear little
mother, thanks, my own! "—Pyetushkoff made
a how to Vasilisa's girdle.

" Yes, Ivan Afanasievitch, perhaps you
think

" Thou wouldst do well not to talk! And I,
the fool, have made a pretty mess of it too!
What am I shouting about? As for thee, pray
consort with whomsoever thou wilt. I care no-
thing for thee. So there now ! I '11 have nothing
to do with thee."

Vasilisa rose to her feet.

" As you like, Ivan Afanasievitch."

" Whither art thou going? "

" Why, you yourself, you know . . . ."

" I 'm not driving thee away, "—Pyetushkoff
interrupted her.

" No, really now, Ivan Afanasievitch. . . .
Why should I remain at your house? . . ."

Pyetushkoff let her get as far as the door.

" So thou art going away, Vasilisa? "

1 You keep insulting me. . . ."

" I insult thee! Thou dost not fear God, Vasi-
lisa ! When did I ever insult thee ? Come, no, no,
tell me, when? "

206

PYETUSHKOFF

" But what do you mean? A little while ago
you came near thrashing me."

:< Vasilisa, 't is sinful of thee. Really, 't is
sinful!"

" And you have reproached me, to boot, and
said: 'I won't have anything to do with thee.
I 'm a gentleman/ you said."

Ivan Afanasievitch began silently to wring his
hands. Vasilisa got to the middle of the room.

;< Well, what then? God be with you, Ivan
Afanasievitch. I will go my way, and you can
go yours. . . ."

" Enough, Vasilisa, enough of that,"— Pye-
tushkoff interrupted her.—" Thou hadst better
change thy mind ; look at me. Surely, I am not
like myself. I don't know myself, what I am
saying. . . . Thou mightest have pity on me. ."

' You are always insulting me, Ivan Afana-
sievitch. ..."

" Ekh, Vasilisa! When sorrow is asleep, wake
it not. Is n't that so? Thou art not angry with
me, art thou? "

4 You are always insulting me,"— repeated
Vasilisa.

" I won't do it again, I won't do it again.
Forgive me, an old man, I '11 never do so again.
Come, hast thou forgiven me, I 'd like to know? "

" God be with thee, Ivan Afanasievitch."

" Come, laugh, laugh. . . ."

Vasilisa turned away.
207

PYETUSHKOFF

"She laughed, the dear soul, she laughed!"
—cried Pyetushkoff, dancing up and down
where he stood, like a child. . . .

VI

ON the following day, Pyetushkoff, according
to his wont, set off for the baker's shop. Every-
thing went on as of yore. But a thorn had been
implanted in his heart. He no longer laughed as
frequently, and he was sometimes pensive. Sun-
day arrived. Praskovya Ivanovna had a pain
in her loins; she stuck to the platform over the
oven; with a great effort, she got down to go
to the morning service. After the service, Pye-
tushkoff called Vasilisa into the rear room. She
had been complaining all the morning of being
bored. Judging by the expression of Ivan
Afanasievitch's face, an unusual thought, and
one which was unexpected to himself, was run-
ning about in his mind.

" Come, sit thee down here, Vasilisa,"— he said
to her,— " and I will sit there. I must have a
little talk with thee."

Vasilisa seated herself.

' Tell me, Vasilisa, dost thou know how to
write? "

"To write?"

" Yes, to write."

" No, I don't know how."
208

PYETUSHKOFF

" And to read? "

" And I don't know how to read either."

" But who read my letter to thee? "

" The chanter."

PyetushkofF was silent for a while.

" But wouldst thou like to know how to read
and write? "

" But why should the likes of me want to know
how to read and write, Ivan Afanasievitch? "

"What dost thou mean by 'why'? So that
thou canst read books."

" And what is there in books? "

" Everything good. . . . Listen, I will bring
thee a little book,-shall I? "

" But, you see, I don't know how to read, Ivan
Afanasievitch."

" I will read to thee."

" Why, that must be tiresome, I think? "

"How can it? ! tiresome! On the contrary,
it is a good remedy for tedium."

;< Will you read fairy-tales? "

1 Thou shalt see — to-morrow."

PyetushkofF returned home toward evening
and began to rummage in his drawers. He found
several odd volumes of the " Library for Read-
ing," five coarse Moscow romances, NazarofF's
arithmetic, a child's geography with a picture of
the globe on the title-page, the second part of
KaidanofF's history, two dream-books, a calendar
for the year 1819, two numbers of " Galatea,"

209

PYETUSHKOFF

Natdlya Dolgoruky, by KozlofF, and the first
part of Rosldvleff. For a long time he meditated
which he should select, and finally decided to take
KozlofF 's poem, and Rosldvleff'.

On the following day, PyetushkofF dressed
himself in haste, thrust both of the wretched lit-
tle books under the facing of his coat, went to the
baker's shop, and began to read her Zagoskin's
romance. Vasilisa sat motionless, first smiled,
then seemed to fall into thought .... then bent
forward a little; her eyes narrowed, her lips
parted slightly, her hands fell on her knees—
she dozed. PyetushkofF went on reading fast,
unintelligibly, and in a low voice,— raised his
eyes. . . .

:< Vasilisa, art thou asleep ? "

She gave a start, rubbed her face and stretched
herself. PyetushkofF was vexed with her and
with himself. . . .

"It 's tiresome,"— said Vasilisa, lazily.

" Listen, and I '11 read thee some verses,
shall I?"

"What?"

:< Verses .... fine verses."

" No, stop; really, now, do."

PyetushkofF briskly pulled out KozlofF's poem,
sprang to his feet, strode through the room,
dashed headlong at Vasilisa, and began to read.
Vasilisa threw back her head, flung wide her
hands, cast a glance into PyetushkofF's face— and

210

PYETUSHKOFF

suddenly broke out into a ringing peal of merry
laughter; .... she fairly rolled with laughter.

Ivan Af anasievitch hurled the book to the floor
with vexation. Vasilisa continued to laugh.
' Well, what art thou laughing at, stupid? "

Vasilisa redoubled her peals of laughter.

" Laugh on, laugh on," — growled Pyetush-
koff through his teeth.

Vasilisa clutched at her side, and groaned.

"But what art thou groaning at, thou crazy
woman? "

But Vasilisa merely flourished her hands.
Ivan Af anasievitch seized his cap and fled from
the house. With uneven steps he strode swiftly
through the town, and kept on walking until he
found himself at the barrier. Along the street
there came suddenly the rumbling of wheels, the
trampling of horses. . . . Some one called him
by name. He raised his head, and beheld a com-
modious old-fashioned lineika.1 In the jaunting-
car, facing him, sat Mr. Bublitzyn between two
young ladies, the daughters of Mr. TiutiuryoiF.
The two girls were dressed exactly alike, as
though to signalise their inseparable friendship;
both were smiling pensively, but agreeably, and
lolling their heads languidly on one side. On
the other side of the jaunting-car the broad*

1 The lineika is something like an Irish jaunting-car, sometimes
with a cross-seat added at the rear, to match the coachman's seat in
front. It has no springs. —TRANSLATOR.

211

PYETUSHKOFF

straw hat of the worthy Mr. Tiutiuryoff was visi-
ble, and a portion of his fat, round nape pre-
sented itself to the gaze ; alongside his straw hat
the mob-cap of his spouse reared itself aloft.
The very position of the two parents served as a
plain indication of their sincere goodwill and
confidence in young Bublitzyn. And young
Bublitzyn, evidently, was conscious of and
prized their flattering confidence. Of course, he
was sitting in an unconstrained attitude, was chat-
ting and laughing unconstrainedly ; but in the
very lack of constraint of his behaviour a tender,
touching respect was perceptible. And the
Misses Tiutiuryoff ? It would be difficult to ex-
press in words all that the attentive eye of an
observer discerned in the features of the two
sisters. Good principles and gentleness, and
modest mirth, sorrowful comprehension of life
and immovable faith in themselves, in the lofty
and very beautiful vocation of man on earth,
decorous attention to their youthful interlocutor,
who was not, perhaps, quite their equal in the
matter of intellectual endowment, but entirely
worthy of indulgence on the score of his attri-
butes of heart .... these were the qualities and
sentiments which were depicted at that moment
on the countenances of the Misses Tiutiuryoff.
Bublitzyn called to Ivan Afanasievitch by name
on the impulse of the moment, without any reason
whatsoever, out of overflowing inward satisfac-
tion; he bowed to him in an extremely friendly

212

PYETUSHKOFF

and courteous manner; the Misses Tiutiuryoff
themselves looked caressingly and gently at him,
as at a man with whom they were not averse to
making acquaintance. . . . The kind, well-fed,
peaceable horses passed Ivan Afanasievitch at a
gentle trot; the jaunting-car rolled smoothly
along the broad road, bearing the good-natured
maidenly laughter; there was a last fleeting
glimpse of Mr. TiutiuryofF's hat; the trace-
horses turned their heads to the side, and bounded
dashingly along over the short, green grass . . .
the coachman began to whistle encouragingly and
cautiously; the jaunting-car disappeared behind
the willows.

Poor PyetushkofF stood for a long time rooted
to the spot.

" I 'm an orphan, a Kazan orphan," * he whis-
pered at last. . . .

A tattered little brat of a boy halted in front
of him, gazed timidly at him, and held out his
hand. . . .

" For Christ's sake, good gentleman."

Pyetushkoff got a two-kopek piece out of his
pocket.

" There, take that for thine orphanhood,"— he
said with an effort, and returned to the baker's
shop.— On the threshold of Vasilisa's room Ivan
Afanasievitch halted.

" And this,"— he thought, " this is the kind of

1 Probably in reference to the absolute desolation created at the cap-
ture of Kazan from the Tatars by Ivan the Terrible. —TRANSLATOR.

213

PYETUSHKOFF

person with whom I consort! Here it is, my
family! here it is! . . . And there 's Bublitzyn,
and then there 's Bublitzyn."

Vasilisa, seated with her back to him and
carelessly humming a tune, was winding thread.
She was wearing a faded calico gown; she had
braided her hair at hap -hazard. ... It was in-
tolerably hot in the room, and there was an
odour of feather-bed and old rags ; here and there
on the walls, reddish, dandified cockroaches 1 were
scuttling briskly about; on the decrepit chest of
drawers, with holes in place of locks, lay a
woman's patched shoe, by the side of a broken
jar. . . . Kozloff's poem was still lying on the
floor. . . . Pyetushkoff shook his head, folded
his arms, and left the room. He was hurt.

At home he gave orders that his clothes should
be brought, that he might dress. Onisim dragged
himself slowly off in quest of a coat. Pyetushkoff
longed to challenge Onisim to a chat, but Onisim
maintained a surly silence. At last Ivan Af ana-
sievitch could contain himself no longer.

14 Why dost not thou ask me where I am
going? "

:< Why should I care to know where you are
going?"

' What dost thou mean by that? See here now,
some one may come on urgent business, and ask:
'Is Ivan Afanasievitch at home?' And then

1 Literally: Prussians.— TRANSLATOR.

214

PYETUSHKOFF

thou couldst tell him : ' Ivan Af anasievitch has
gone to such and such a place.5 '

" On urgent business. . . . But who does
come to you on urgent business? "

" Here now, art thou beginning to be impu-
dent again? Art thou at it again? "

Onisim turned away, and began to brush the
coat.

" Really, Onisim, thou art a disagreeable man."

Onisim darted an oblique glance at his master.

" And thou art always like that. Precisely
that, — always. ' '

Onisim grinned.

" But what 's the use of my asking you whither
you are going, Ivan Af anasievitch? As if I
did n't know! To the baker's girl! "

" What nonsense ! That 's a lie ! I 'm not going
to her at all. I don't intend to go to the baker's
girl any more."

Onisim screwed up his eyes, and shook his
brush. PyetushkoiF had expected approbation;
but his servant preserved silence.

" It is n't fitting,"— went on Ivan Afanasie-
vitch in a severe tone,—" it is indecent. . . .
Come, now, say what thou thinkest."

'"' What 's the use of my thinking? Do as you
please. Why should I think? "

PyetushkoiF donned his coat.—" He does n't
believe me, the brute,"— he thought to himself.

He left the house, but did not drop in to call on
215

PYETUSHKOFF

any one. He roamed about the streets. He di-
rected his attention to the setting sun. At last,
about eight o'clock, he returned home. He was
smiling; he kept incessantly shrugging his shoul-
ders, as though in wonder at his own stupidity.
-"There, now,"— he thought;— " that 's what
it means to have a strong will. ..."

On the following day PyetushkofF rose quite
late. He had not passed a very good night, he
went nowhere until the evening, and was fright-
fully bored. PyetushkofF read through all his
horrid little books, and praised aloud one of the
romances in the " Library for Reading." When
he went to bed, he ordered Onisim to give him a
pipe. Onisim handed him a very wretched little
Turkish pipe. PyetushkofF began to smoke ; the
pipe bubbled hoarsely, like a broken-winded
horse.

"How nasty!"— exclaimed Ivan Afanasie-
vitch;— " and where 's my cherry-wood pipe? "

:< Why, at the baker's shop,"— calmly replied
Onisim.

PyetushkofF winked convulsively.

' Well? Do you command me to go for it? "

" No, it is n't necessary; don't go. . . I don't
want it; don't go, dost thou hear?"

" I obey, sir."

He got through the night somehow. In the
morning, Onisim, according to custom, presented
to PyetushkofF, on a plate with blue flowers, a
216

PYETUSHKOFF

fresh, white roll. Ivan Af anasievitch looked out
of the window, and asked Onisim :

" Didst thou go to the bake-shop? "

" Who should go, if not I? "

"Ah!"

Pyetushkoff sank into meditation.

' Tell me, please, didst thou see any one
there?"

" Of course I did."

''' Whom didst thou see there, for example? "

'* Vasilisa, of course."

Ivan Af anasievitch fell silent. Onisim cleared
the table, and was on the point of leaving the
room. . . .

" Onisim! "—called Pyetushkoff, faintly.

"What do you wish?"

"A ... did she inquire about me? "

" Of course she did n't."

Pyetushkoff gritted his teeth.— " There,"-
he thought,—" there 's love for you. . . ." He
hung his head.— " And I certainly have been
ridiculous,"— he pursued his meditations;—"!
took a fancy to read poetry to her ! Eka! Why,
she 's a fool ! Why, the only thing fit for her, fool
that she is, is to lie on the oven, and eat pan-
cakes ! Why, she 's a blockhead, a perfect block-
head; an uneducated creature of the petty
burgher class ! "

" She has n't come . . . ." he whispered two
hours later, as he sat in the same place; — " she

217

PYETUSHKOFF

f

has not come! What do you think of that? She
certainly could see that I left her in anger; she
certainly might have known that I was offended !
There 's lov.e for thee ! And she did n't even in-
quire whether I was well ! * Is Ivan Af anasie-
vitch well? '—quoth she. This is the second day
that she has n't seen me,— and she does n't mind!
.... Perhaps .she has even been pleased to have
another meeting with that Bub .... The lucky
dog! Phew, damn it, what a fool I am! "

Pyetushkoff rose, paced the room in silence,
halted, frowned slightly, and scratched the back
of his head.— " Never mind,"— he said aloud:—
"I '11 just go to her. I must see what she is
doing yonder. I must make her feel ashamed.
Positively. ... I will go. Onka! Dress
me!"

" Come now,"— he thought, as he was dressing;

" let 's see what will happen. Just as likely
as not, she will be angry with me. And, in fact,
here a man has been going-going, going-going to
see her, and all of a sudden, without rhyme or
reason, he has stopped going! So now, we shall
see!"

Ivan Af anasievitch left the house, and trudged
off to the bake-shop. He paused at the wicket-
gate : he must spruce himself up, and tighten his
belt. . . . Pyetushkoff grasped his coat-tails
with both hands, and came near tearing them off
altogether. . . . Convulsively did he crane his

218

PYETUSHKOFF

outstretched neck, fastened the top hook of his
collar, and heaved a sigh. . . .

:< Why are you standing there? " —Praskovya
Ivanovna cried to him through the window.—
" Come in."

PyetushkofF started and went in. Praskovya
Ivanovna met him on the threshold.

'( Why did n't you favour us with your com-
pany yesterday, dear little father? Did some
trifling indisposition prevent you? "

1 Yes, somehow I had a headache yester-
day. . . ."

1 You ought to have put a cucumber on each
temple, dear little father. It would have disap-
peared instantly. And does your dear head ache
now?"

" No, it does not ache."

" Well, thanks be to thee, O Lord! "

Ivan Af anasievitch betook himself to the back
room. Vasilisa caught sight of him.

" Ah! Good morning, Ivan Afanasitch! "

" Good morning, Vasilisa Timofyeeyna."

:< What did you do with the siphon, Ivan Afa-
nasitch? "

" The siphon? What siphon? "

:< The siphon .... our siphon. You must
have carried it off to your house. You 're such a
. . . . Lord forgive! . . ."

PyetushkofF assumed a cold and dignified
aspect.

219

PYETUSHKOFF

" I will order my man to look. As I was not
here yesterday,"— he said significantly. . . .

" Akh, why that 's a fact, you were n't here yes-
terday."—Vasilisa squatted down on her heels
and began to rummage in a chest. . . . "Aunty!
Hey, aunty!"

"Wha-a-at?"

"Didst thou take my kerchief, I 'd like to
know? "

" What kerchief? "

" Why, the yellow one."

" The yellow one? "

" Yes, the yellow one with the flowered pat-
tern."

" No, I did n't take it."

Pyetushkoff bent over Vasilisa.

" Listen to me, Vasilisa; hearken to what I am
going to say to thee. 'T is not a question now
of siphons or of kerchiefs; thou canst busy thy-
self over that nonsense at some other time."

Vasilisa did not stir from the spot, and merely
raised her head.

" Do thou tell me, conscientiously— dost thou
love me or not? That 's what I want to know,
in short!"

" Akh, what a man you are, Ivan Afanasie-
vitch! .... Well, yes, of course."

" But if thou lovest me, then why didst not
thou come to me yesterday? Didst thou not have
the time? Well, then thou mightest have sent to

220

PYETUSHKOFF

inquire whether I was ill, whether I was dead.
But thou didst worry thyself little. I might even
die yonder, all by myself, and thou wouldst not
come!"

" Ekh, Ivan Afanasievitch, a body can't think
of one thing all the time; there 's work to be
done."

"Of course,"— responded 'Pyetushkoff,—
" and, nevertheless .... And it is n't proper to
laugh at your elders. ... It is n't nice. How-
ever, there 's no harm, in certain cases. . . . But
where 's my pipe? "

" Here is your pipe."

Pyetushkoff began to smoke.

VII

SEVERAL days passed quite peacefully to all ap^
pearance. But a thunder-storm was brewing.
Pyetushkoff tormented himself, was jealous,
never took his eyes from Vasilisa, watched her
anxiously, and grew frightfully tired of her.
Finally, one evening, Vasilisa dressed herself
more carefully than usual, and seizing a conve-
nient opportunity, she went off somewhere to
make a visit. Night descended, and she had not
returned. Pyetushkoff returned to his lodgings
at dawn, and at eight o'clock in the morning ran
to the bake-shop. . . . Vasilisa had not arrived.
With an inexpressible sinking at the heart he

221

PYETUSHKOFF

waited for her until dinner-time .... and they
sat down to the table without her. . . .

" Where can she have disappeared to? " —said
Praskovya Ivanovna, indifferently.

" You spoil her ; you simply spoil her com-
pletely! " — PyetushkofF kept repeating.

" Ih, dear little father! one can't keep track of
a young girl! "—replied Praskovya Ivanovna.
— " God be with her! If only she had done her

work Why should n't a person have a

little fun? ... ."

Ivan Afanasievitch was seized with a cold
chill. At last, toward evening, Vasilisa made her
appearance. That was all he was waiting for.
PyetushkofF rose solemnly from his chair, folded
his arms, and contracted his brows in a stern
frown. . . . But Vasilisa looked him boldly in the
eye, laughed audaciously, and, without giving him
a chance to utter a word, walked briskly into her
room and locked the door. Ivan Afanasievitch
opened his mouth and stared in amazement at
Praskovya Ivanovna. . . . Praskovya Ivanovna
dropped her eyes. Ivan Afanasievitch stood
there for a while, groped for his cap, put it on
his head askew, and left the house without shut-
ting his mouth.

He reached home, took a leather cushion and
flung himself with it on the divan, face to the
wall. Onisim peeped in from the anteroom, en-
tered the chamber, leaned his back against the

222

PYETUSHKOFF

door, took a pinch of snuff, and crossed his
legs.

" Are you ill, Ivan Afanasievitch? "—he asked
Pyetushkoff.

Pyetushkoff made no reply.

" Do you order me to go for the doctor? "
went on Onfsim, after waiting a little.

" I 'm well. ... Get out! "—said Ivan Afa-
nasievitch in a dull tone.

" Well? No, you are n't well, Ivan Afa-
nasievitch. . . . What sort of health is this?"

Pyetushkoff maintained silence.

' You 'd better take a look at yourself. Why,
you Ve grown so thin that you simply have be-
come unrecognisable. And all for what? When
one comes to think of it, he loses mind and rea-
son, by God ! And a nobleman, to boot ! "

Onfsim paused. . . . Pyetushkoff did not stir.

"Is this the way noblemen behave?— Come,
you might have had your fling .... why not?
.... you might have had your fling, and dis-
missed it with a box on the ear. But what 's this
like? Why, actually, one may say, 't is falling in
love with Satan more than with the bright fal-
con."

Ivan Afanasievitch only writhed.

" Come, really, this won't do, Ivan Afanasie-
vitch. If any other person had said to me con-
cerning you, ' Here now, here now, what goings-
on ! ' I would have said to him : ' Thou 'rt a fool.

223

PYETUSHKOFF

Begone! For whom dost thou take me? Dost
suppose I 'm going to believe that? ' But now I
see for myself, and I don't believe. Why, there
can't be anything worse than this. Has she been
giving you some sort of philter, pray? What is
there about her, anyway? If you would use com-
mon sense, 't is all utter nonsense— simply, fit to
spit upon. And she does n't even know how to
speak correctly. . . . She 's just simply a com-
mon wench! Even worse than that! "

" Get out! "—moaned Ivan Afanasievitch into
his pillow.

" No— I won't get out, Ivan Afanasievitch.
Who should speak, if not I? Just look at the
facts. Here you are breaking your heart ....
and for what? Come, for what? good gracious,
tell me!"

" Do go away, Onisim," — groaned Pyetush-
koff again.

Onisim held his tongue awhile, out of decorum.

" And just to think,"— he began again:—" she
feels no gratitude whatever. Any other woman
would n't have known how to do enough to please
you; but she! .... She does n't even think of
you. Why, it 's a downright scandal. And it 's
impossible even to repeat the things people are
saying about you; it even makes me ashamed.
Well, if I could only have known this beforehand,
I 'd have given her . . . ."

" Get out, you devil, I tell you for the last
224

PYETUSHKOFF

time!"— yelled Pyetushkoff, but without stir-
ring from his place or raising his head.

"Good mercy, Ivan Af anasievitch ! " — went
on the implacable Onisim.— " I 'm telling you for
your own good. Spit on the whole thing, Ivan
Afanasievitch, simply spit on it, heed me. If
you won't do that, I '11 fetch the vile woman
hither ; you can get rid of her at once. You will
laugh at it yourself afterward; you will say to
me : ' Onisim, it 's amazing what things one does
sometimes!' — Come, judge for yourself: you
know that such as she are as plentiful with us
as dogs .... all you have to do is to whistle . . . ."

Pyetushkoif sprang from the divan like a
madman .... but, to the astonishment of Oni-
sim, who had already raised both hands on a
level with his cheeks, he sat down again, as though
some one had knocked the legs out from under
him. . . . Tears rolled down over his pale face,
a tuft of hair stood out over his temple, his eyes
gazed dimly forth .... his distorted lips quiv-
ered .... his head sank on his breast.

Onisim looked at PyetushkofF, and flung him-
self heavily on his knees.

" Dear little father, Ivan Afanasievitch,"— he
cried;— "your Well-Born! Please to chastise
me, fool that I am! I have troubled you, Ivan
Afanasievitch. . . . How dared I! Please to
chastise me, your Well-Born. . . Is it worth
while for you to weep because of my stupid

225

PYETUSHKOFF

speeches .... dear little father, Ivan Afana-
sievitch. ..."

But Pyetushkoff did not even look at his ser-
vant, turned away, and huddled down again in
one corner of the divan.

Onisim rose, went to his master, stood over
him, and clutched at his own hair a couple of
times.

"Won't you undress, dear little father? . . .
You 'd better go to bed .... you 'd better eat
a bit .... please don't grieve. ... 'T is only
with half -sorrow, all this amounts to nothing
. . . . everything will come right,"— he said to
him every two minutes.

But Pyetushkoff did not rise from the divan,
and only shrugged his shoulders from time to
time, and drew his knees up to his body. . . .

Onisim never left him all night long. Toward
morning Pyetushkoff fell asleep, but not for
long. At seven o'clock he rose from the divan,
pale, dishevelled, exhausted, and called for tea.

Onisim prepared the samovar obsequiously and
briskly.

" Ivan Afanasievitch,"— he began, at last, in
a timid voice,— " you are not pleased to be angry
with me, are you? "

:<What should I be angry with thee about,
Onisim? "-replied poor Pyetushkoff.— " Thou
wert entirely right yesterday, and I agree with
thee perfectly about everything."

226

PYETUSHKOFF

" I only did it out of zeal, Ivan Afanasie-
vitch "

" I know that it was out of zeal."

PyetushkofF fell silent, and dropped his eyes.

Onisim saw that things were in a bad way.

" Ivan Afanasievitch,"— he began suddenly.

"What?"

" I '11 bring Vasilisa hither, if you like? "

PyetushkofF crimsoned.

" No, Onisim, I don't like." (" Yes, let it go!
she '11 come!"— he thought to himself.)— "I
must display firmness. All this is folly. Yester-
day . . . you know .... 'T is a disgrace. Thou
art right. I must make an end of all this at one
blow, as the saying is. Is n't that so? "

'T is the plain truth you deign to speak, Ivan
Afanasievitch. ' '

Again PyetushkofF buried himself in thought.
He was amazed at himself; he did not seem to
recognise himself. He sat motionless and stared
straight at the floor. His thoughts were in a
commotion within him, like smoke or mist, and
his breast felt heavy and empty at one and the
same time.

" Well, what does it all amount to, after all? "
—he sometimes thought, and calmed down again.
—"Nonsense, self-indulgence! "—he said aloud,
and passed his hand over his face, shook himself,
and again his hand fell on his knees, again his
eyes riveted themselves on the floor.

227

PYETUSHKOFF

Onisim gazed attentively and sorrowfully at
his master.

Pyetushkoff raised his head.

" Tell me, Onisim,"— he began,— " is it true
that such witches' philters do exist? "

" They do, sir, certainly, sir,"— replied Oni-
sim, thrusting out his leg. — " Now, for example,
you know Under-Officer Krupovatoff, don't you?
. . His brother was ruined through witchcraft.
They bewitched him to a common old woman,
to a cook, just think of that! They gave him a
bit of plain rye bread to eat, with the spell, of
course. So then KrupovatofF's brother fell head
over heels in love with the cook, and ran about
everywhere after the cook ; he simply adored her,
and could never gaze his fill. Whatever she bade
him do, he obeyed on the instant. Even in the
presence of others, in the presence of strangers,
she made a display of her power over him. Well,
and she drove him into a consumption at last. So
he died, did KrupovatofF's brother. And she was
a cook, and she is still, and old, very old." (Oni-
sim took a pinch of snuff.) — " Damn all those
hussies and females."

" She does n't love me at all— that is clear;
in short, there can be no doubt of that,"— mut-
tered PyetushkofF in a low voice, making mo-
tions with his head and hands the while, as though
he were explaining to an entirely strange man a
thing of which he was wholly ignorant.

228

PYETUSHKOFF

' Yes,"— pursued Onisim,— " there are such
women."

"There are,"— repeated Pyetushkoff, dejec-
tedly, not exactly in a tone of inquiry, nor yet
as though surprised.

Onisim surveyed his master attentively.

" Ivan Afanasievitch,"— he began,—" had n't
you better take a bite of something? "

" Take a bite of something? "—repeated Pye-
tushkoff.

" Or would n't you like your pipe? "

"Pipe?"— repeated Pyetushkoff.

" So that 's what it has come to! "—growled
Onisim: " this means that he 's gone daft."

VIII

THE clumping of boots resounded in the ante-
room, and the customary suppressed cough which
announces the arrival of an inferior person made
itself audible there. — Onisim went out, but im-
mediately returned accompanied by a tiny sol-
dier of the garrison with the face of an old wo-
man, clad in a patched overcoat which had been
worn to the point of turning yellow, devoid of
trousers, and devoid of neckcloth. Pyetushkoff
started— but the soldier drew himself up in mili-
tary fashion, wished him good morning, and
landed him a large envelope sealed with the offi-
cial seal. The envelope contained a note from the

229

PYETUSHKOFK

Major in command of the garrison: he ordered
Pyetushkoff to him instantly and without delay.

Pyetushkoff turned the note over in his hands
—and could not refrain from asking the messen-
ger: " Did he know why the Major had ordered
him to present himself? " —although he under-
stood perfectly the utter futility of such a ques-
tion.

"We cannot know! " 1— shouted the soldier
with an effort, but in a barely audible voice, as
though he were only half awake.

" And he is not ordering the other officers to
him? " went on Pyetushkoff.

"We cannot know! "—shouted the soldier a
second time, in the same sort of tone.

" Very well, go,"— said Pyetushkoff.

The soldier made a military turn to the left,
stamping his foot as he did so, and slapping him-
self with the palm of his hand lower down than
the spine (that was the style in the " twenties ") ,
and withdrew.

Pyetushkoff silently exchanged glances with
Onisim, who immediately assumed an anxious air
— and went to the Major.

This Major was a man of sixty, corpulent and
awkward, with a swollen, red face, a short neck,
and a perpetual tremor in his fingers, which arose
from a too profuse use of vodka. He belonged
to the category of so-called " Bourbons," that is

The official form of " I don't know."— TRANSLATOR.

230

PYETUSHKOFF

to say, of soldiers who had advanced in the ser-
vice from the lower ranks, had taught himself to
read and write, and spoke with difficulty, partly
on account of asthma, partly from inability to
comprehend his own thought. His temperament
exhibited all the variations known to science: in
the morning, before vodka, he was melancholy;
in the middle of the day, choleric; and toward
evening, phlegmatic — that is to say, at that time
he only snuffled and bellowed, until he was put
to bed. Ivan Afanasievitch presented himself
to him during his choleric period. He found him
sitting on a divan, in his dressing-gown open at
the breast, and with a pipe in his teeth. A fat,
crop-eared cat had cuddled down beside him.

" Aha! So he has come! "—growled the Ma-
jor, turning askance upon PyetushkofF his leaden
little eyes, and without stirring from his place.—
" Come now, sit down;— come, I '11 give it to
you well.— I 've had my eye on the watch for
fellows of your stamp this long time . . . yes,
I have."

PyetushkofF sank down on a chair.

" Because,"— burst out the Major, with an un-
expected impulse of his whole body,—" you are
an officer, you know; so you must conduct your-
self according to regulations.— If you were a
soldier, I would simply give you a whipping,—
and that would be the end of it ; but you happen
to be an officer. Is n't it outrageous? You

231

PYETUSHKOFF

ought to be ashamed of yourself. Do you think
it 'snice?"

" Permit me to inquire to what these hints
point? "— PyetushkofF was beginning. . . .

" No arguing with me ! I have a deadly hatred
of that. I Ve told you I don't like it; well, and
that 's all there is to be said! There now, your
hooks are not according to regulations; what a
disgrace!— He sits day after day in a bake-shop;
and he 's a nobleman to boot! He has set up a
petticoat there— and there he sits.— Well, damn
her, that petticoat!— And they actually say that
he puts the loaves in the oven himself.— He sul-
lies his uniform .... yes."

" Permit me to report,"— said PyetushkofF,
whose heart turned cold,—" that all this, so far
as I can judge, refers to my private life, so to
speak. ..."

"Don't argue with me, I tell you!— Private
life— he dares to argue! If I had anything
against you on the score of the service, I 'd send
you straight off to the gward-housel—Alle mar-
shir!— because I 'm sworn to do it.— A whole
birch-grove was, probably, used up on me myself:
so I know the service; all those proceedings are
very familiar to me. But you are to understand,
I refer in particular to the uniform. Thou art
disgracing the uniform— yes, I 'm acting like a
father .... yes. Because all that is entrusted
to me. I must answer for it.— And here you are

232

PYETUSHKOFF

arguing! "—shouted the Major, with a sudden
access of ferocity, and his face turned purple, and
froth made its appearance on his lips, and the cat
elevated its tail and sprang to the floor. — " Yes,
and do you know. . . Yes, do you know, that
I can .... that I can do everything! every-
thing, everything!— And do you understand to
whom you are talking?— Your superior officer
commands— and you argue! Your superior offi-
cer. . . . Your superior officer ! ..."

Here the Major even began to cough and rat-
tle in his throat— and poor Pyetushkoff merely
drew himself up and turned pale, as he sat on the
edge of his chair.

"See that everything," .... pursued the
trembling Major, waving his hand imperiously,

" see that everything .... toes the mark !
First-class behaviour!— I won't tolerate any dis-
order! Thou mayest consort with whom thou
choosest — I don't care a fig about that! But if
thou art well-born, — well, then, you know, act
like a nobleman!— I won't have thee putting the
loaves in the oven! I won't have thee calling a
draggle-tailed, low-born woman t aunty ' ! I
won't have thee disgracing the uniform! Hold
thy tongue! Don't argue! "

The Major's voice broke. He took breath,
and turning toward the door of the anteroom,
he shouted :— " Frolka, thou rascal ! Herrings ! "

Pyetushkoff rose briskly and darted out, almost
233

PYETUSHKOFF

knocking ofF his legs the page-boy who was run-
ning in with sliced herrings and a huge carafFe of
vodka on a yellow tray.

"Hold thy tongue! Don't argue! "-re-
sounded behind PyetushkofF the spasmodic ex-
clamations of the incensed commander.

IX

A STRANGE feeling took possession of Ivan Af a-
nasievitch, when he suddenly found himself in
the street.

" Why, what makes it seem as though I were
walking in my sleep? " — he thought to himself.
— "Have I lost my mind, I 'd like to know?
For this certainly is incredible. Come, damn it!
she has ceased to love me, and I have ceased to
love her, well, and .... what is there remark-
able about that? "

PyetushkofF contracted his brows in a frown.

" There must be an end to this, in short," — he
said almost aloud;—" I will go and have a defini-
tive explanation for the last time, so that after-
ward not a trace of it may be left."

With hasty strides, PyetushkofF betook him-
self to the bake-shop. The nephew of Luka the
hired man, a diminutive brat, the friend and in-
timate of the goat which lived in the courtyard,
sprang briskly to the wicket-gate as soon as he
caught sight of Ivan Af anasievitch.

234

PYETUSHKOFF

Praskovya Ivanovna came out to greet Pye-
tushkoff.

"Is n't your niece at home? "—asked Pye-
tushkoff.

" No, sir, she is n't."

PyetushkofF inwardly rejoiced at Vasilisa's
absence.

" I have come to have an explanation with you,
Praskovya Ivanovna."

" What about, dear little father? "

:' Why, about this. You understand that after
all .... that has taken place .... after such
goings-on, so to say " (PyetushkofF was get-
ting somewhat confused) . ..." in a word.
.... But, please don't be angry with me."

" Yes, sir."

" On the contrary, enter into my position,
Praskovya Ivanovna."

" Yes, sir."

' You are a sensible woman, you understand
yourself, that .... that I can no longer come
to your house."

' Yes, sir,"— said Praskovya Ivanovna in a
sing-song tone.

" Believe me, I greatly regret it; I confess it
even gives me pain, genuine pain. . . ."

" You must know best, sir,"— returned Pras-
kovya Ivanovna, with composure.— " It must be
as you like, sir. And now, if you will allow me,
I '11 give you your bill."

235

PYETUSHKOFF

Pyetushkoff had not in the least expected such
ready assent. On the whole, he had not desired
" assent " ; he would have liked merely to frighten
Praskovya Ivanovna, and especially Vasilisa.
He was discomfited.

" I know,"— he began,— " that this will not be
in the least displeasing to Vasilisa; on the con-
trary, I think she will be glad."

Praskovya Ivanovna got her reckoning-frame1
and began to rattle the bone balls.

" On the other hand," — went on Pyetush-
koff, who waxed more and more agitated,— " if,
for example, Vasilisa would explain to me her
conduct .... possibly .... I .... although, of
course .... I don't know, possibly, I might
see that, in reality, there was no harm whatever
in it."

1 You owe me thirty-seven rubles and forty
kopeks, paper money, dear little father,"— re-
marked Praskovya Ivanovna.— " Here, would
you like to verify the account? "

Ivan Af anasievitch answered never a word.

"Eighteen dinners at seventy kopeks apiece:
twelve rubles sixty kopeks."

"So you and I are to part, Praskovya Iva-
novna? "

" How can it be helped, dear little father?

1 The use of the abacus is very extensive, even at the present day,
among the merchant class in Russia. They perform long and intri-
cate calculations with amazing facility.— TRANSLATOR.

236

PYETUSHKOFF

Such things do happen. Twelve samovars,1 at
ten kopeks apiece. ..."

" But just tell me, Praskovya Ivanovna, where
did Vasilisa go, and why did she . . ."

:< Why, I did n't question her, dear little father.
.... One ruble twenty kopeks, silver money."

Ivan Afanasievitch became thoughtful.

" Kvas and sour-cabbage soup," — went on
Praskovya Ivanovna, separating the beads on her
counting-frame, not with her forefinger, but
with her third finger,—" to the amount of half
a ruble, silver. Sugar and rolls for tea, half a
ruble, silver. Four packets of tobacco, bought by
your order, eighty kopeks, silver. Paid the
tailor, Kupriyan Apollonoff . . . ."

Ivan Afanasievitch suddenly raised his head,
put out his hand, and mixed up the beads.

;' What are you doing, dear little father? ! "
—said Praskovya Ivanovna.— " Don't you be-
lieve me?"

" Praskovya Ivanovna," — replied Pyetush-
koff, with a hurried smile,—" I have changed my
mind. I was only jesting, you know. Let us,
rather, remain friends, as of old. What non-
sense! How can you and I part, tell me, please?"

Praskovya Ivanovna hung her head and did
not answer him.

" Come, we have had our quarrel out — and

1 Meaning that the samovar had been prepared twelve
times. — TRANSLATOR.

237

PYETUSHKOFF

that 's the end of it,"— went on Ivan Afanasie-
vitch, pacing the room, rubbing his hands, and,
as it were, entering again upon his former
rights.— " Amen! see here, I 'd better smoke a
pipe."

Praskovya Ivanovna still did not stir from the
spot. . . .

" I see that you are angry with me/'— said
Pyetushkoff.— " Perhaps I have hurt your feel-
ings. Come, what of that? Be magnanimous
and forgive."

" Hurt my feelings, forsooth, dear little fa-
ther! How have you hurt them? . . . Only, if
you please, dear little father,"— added Praskovya
Ivanovna, with an inclination,— "be so good as
not to come to our house any more."

"What?"

" It is n't proper for you to associate with us,
your Well-Born. So please do us the fa-
vour. . . ."

"But why?" stammered the astounded Pye-
tushkoff.

" Why, just because, dear little father. Show
us that divine favour."

" But no, Praskovya Ivanovna, we must have
an explanation! . . . ."

:' Vasilisa beseeches you, dear little father. She
says: ' I 'm grateful, very grateful, and I feel it,
only, in future, your Well-Born, relieve me of
your presence.' "

238

PYETUSHKOFF

Praskovya Ivanovna bowed down almost to
Pyetushkoff's feet.

' Vasilisa, you say, asks me not to come? "

"Exactly so, dear little father, your Well-
Born. As you were pleased to favour us with a
visit to-day, and said that you did not wish to
visit us any more, — that is to say, I was just de-
lighted, dear little father, and thinks I to myself :
' There now, and thank God, that everything has
come right.' For otherwise, my own tongue
would n't have twisted itself round to speak. . . .
Show us that favour, dear little father."

PyetushkofF reddened and paled almost simul-
taneously. Praskovya Ivanovna still continued
to make obeisances. . . .

' Very well,"— exclaimed Ivan Afanasievitch,
sharply.— " Good-bye."

He wheeled round abruptly and put on his cap.

"And about the little bill, dear little fa-
ther. . . ."

" Send it ... my orderly will pay you."

Pyetushkoff left the bake-shop with a firm
tread, and did not even glance round.

Two weeks passed. At first Pyetushkoff kept
up his courage extremely well, went out in soci-
ety, and visited his comrades, with the exception,
of course, of Bublftzyn; but, despite the exag-

239

PYETUSHKOFF

gerated praises of Onisim, he nearly went out of
his mind, at last, with grief, jealousy, and tedium.
Nothing afforded him any consolation except
chats with Onisim about Vasilisa. Pyetushkoff
began the conversation, and was always the ag-
gressor; Onisim reluctantly answered him.

" But it is a strange thing,"— Ivan Afanasie-
vitch said, for example, as he lay on his divan,
while Onisim, according to his custom, stood
leaning against the door, with his hands clasped
behind him:— "when you come to think of it:
come, now, what did I see in that girl? There 's
nothing remarkable about her, it strikes me. She
is kind-hearted, it is true. One must not deny
her that merit."

" Kind - hearted — indeed! " - replied Onisim
with displeasure.

" Come, Onisim," — went on Pyetushkoff,—
" one must speak the truth. Now that is an affair
of the past: it makes no difference to me now,
but justice is justice. Thou dost not know her.
She is extremely kind-hearted. She never lets a
single beggar go empty-handed away: she gives
him at least a crust of bread. Well, and she has
a cheerful disposition— that must also be said of
her."

* There you go, inventing still! Where did
you find her cheerful disposition? "

"I tell thee . . . thou dost not know her.
And she is not greedy of money, either ....

240

PYETUSHKOFF

that 's another point. She does not have an eye
on her own interests, there 's no denying that.
Well, and although I .... yet I gave her no-
thing, as thou knowest."

" That 's exactly why she threw you over."

" No, that was not the reason! "—replied Pye-
tushkoff with a sigh.

" Why, you 're in love with her even now,"—
retorted Onisim, viciously.— " You 'd be glad
enough to go back to your former position."

" There thou art talking nonsense. No, bro-
ther, evidently, thou dost not know me either.
They turned me out of the house, and I won't
go and make obeisance to them after that. No,
excuse me. No, I tell thee, believe me, all that
is now a thing of the past."

" God grant it ! God grant it ! "

" But why should n't I be just to her, even
now? Come, now, if I were to say that she is not
good-looking, — who would believe me? "

"A fine beauty you have found! "

" Come, find me,— well, name to me any one
who is better-looking than she "

"Well, then, go back to her! ... ."

"Eka! But is that what I am talking for,
pray? Understand me. . . ."

" Okh! I understand you,"— replied Onisim
with a heavy sigh.

Another week passed. Pyetushkoif ceased
even to talk with his Onisim ; he ceased to go out.

241

PYETUSHKOFF

From morning till night he lay on his divan, with
his hands thrown up over his head. He began to
grow thin and pale, he ate reluctantly and hur-
riedly, he did not smoke at all. Onisim merely
shook his head as he looked at him.

" Surely you are not feeling well, Ivan Af ana-
sievitch,"— he said to him more than once.

" Yes, I 'm all right,"— replied Pyetushkoff.

At last, one fine day (Onisim was not at
home) , Pyetushkoif rose, rummaged in his chest
of drawers, donned his heavy cloak, although the
sun was pretty hot, emerged stealthily into the
street, and a quarter of an hour later returned
home again. . . . He was carrying something
under his cloak. . . .

Onisim was not at home. All the morning he
had been sitting in his tiny den, thinking matters
over, grumbling and swearing through his set
teeth, and, at last, he had set off to see Vasilisa.

He found her in the bake-shop. Praskovya
Ivanovna was asleep on the oven, snoring regu-
larly and languidly.

" Akh, good morning, Onisim Sergyeevitch,"
—said Vasilisa with a smile. — " Why have n't we
seen you this long time? "

"Morning."

;' What makes you so downcast? Won't you
have some tea? "

'T is not a question of me now,"— returned
Onisim, testily.

242

PYETUSHKOFF

" What, then? "

' What! Dost not thou understand me, pray?
' What? ! ' What hast thou done to my master?
Come, tell me that."

"What have I done?"

' Thou hast done something. . . . Just come
and look at him. The first anybody knows, he 11
fall ill and die altogether."

"How am I to blame, Onisim Sergyeitch?"

" How? ! — God knows. He fairly adores thee,
see? But thou hast treated him as though he
were a fellow like me, the Lord forgive thee!
' Don't come,' sayest thou, ' I 'm tired of thee.'
Anyway, if he is n't an important person, he 's
a gentleman all the same. He 's a noble-
man, all the same. . . . Dost thou understand
that?"

" But he 's so tiresome, Onisim Sergyeitch "

' Tiresome ! But thou must needs always have
jovial men! "

"Well, he 's not exactly tiresome; but he 's
such an irascible, jealous man."

" Akh, thou Astrakhan Tzarevna Milikitrisa!
See there, now, he has worried thee! "

"Why, you yourself, Onisim Sergyeitch, as I
remember, were angry with him. ' Why does
he associate with them,' says you; 'why is he
always going to them? '

" What of that? Was I to praise him for that,
I'd like to know?"

243

PYETUSHKOFF

" Well, then, why are you angry with me now?
You see, he has stopped coming."

Onisim even stamped.

" But what am I to do with him, if he 's
such a crazy man?"— he added, lowering his
voice.

" Then how am I to blame? How can I help
you?"

:£ This is how: come along with me to him."

"The Lord forbid!"

"Why wilt not thou go? "

' Why won't I go to him? Good mercy! "

:< Why? And then, see here, he said that thou
wert kind-hearted. I see how kind-hearted thou
art."

" But what good can I do him? "

:t Well, I know all about that. Things must
be pretty bad if I come to thee. Evidently, I
could think of no other means."

Onisim paused for a moment.

" Come, let 's go, Vasilisa; please come along."

" But I don't want to associate with him again,
Onisim Sergyeitch. . . ."

" That is n't necessary— who told thee that it
was? But so, — say a couple of words to him:
1 Why do you deign to grieve? '—say ... * Stop
it. . . .' That 's all."

" Really, Onisim Sergyeitch. . . ."

" Come now, dost want me to bow down be-
fore thee, pray? Come, if thou wilt have it—

244

PYETUSHKOFF

here 's an obeisance for thee .... and here 's
another obeisance for thee."

" But, really. . . ."

" What a woman! Even honours don't move
her!

At last Vasilisa consented, threw a kerchief
over her head, and went off in company with
Onisim.

" Stand here a bit, in the anteroom,"— he said
to her, when they reached Pyetushkoff's quar-
ters,— " and I '11 go and announce to the mas-
ter "

He entered Ivan Afanasievitch's room.

PyetushkofF was standing in the middle of the
room, with both hands thrust into his pockets,
with his legs straddled to an exaggerated degree
and rocking slowly backward and forward. His
face was flaming, his eyes were beaming.

" Good morning, Onisim,"— he lisped in a
friendly way, pronouncing the consonants of his
words very badly and languidly:— " Good morn-
ing, my good fellow. While thou wert gone, I
. . . . he, he, he! " —PyetushkofF began to laugh
and peck forward with his nose.— " Really, now,
he, he, he! .... However,"— he added, striv-
ing to assume a dignified mien :— " I 'm all right."
—He tried to lift one leg, but came near toppling
over and, by way of putting a good face on the
matter, he said in a bass voice:—" Man, give me
my pipe! "

245

PYETUSHKOFF

Onisim stared in amazement at his master, and
glanced around. . . . On the window-sill stood
an empty, dark-green bottle with the label:
" The Best Jamaica Rum."

" I have drunk it, brother, and that 's all,"-
went on PyetushkofF,— " I took and drank it,
and that 's all there is to say. And where hast
thou been? tell me . . . don't be ashamed . . .
tell me. Thou narratest well."

" Good gracious, Ivan Afanasievitch,"-
roared Onisim.

" So be it. And so be it. And I forgive my
dear one, my dear one,"— returned PyetushkofF,
with a vague wave of his hand. " I forgive
everybody, I forgive thee, and I forgive Vasilisa,
and everybody, I forgive everybody. But I Ve
drunk it, brother. . . . I Ve dru-unk it, brother.
. . . What 's that? " —he suddenly cried, point-
ing at the door of the anteroom : " Who 's there? "

" There 's nobody there,"— hastily replied Oni-
sim.—" Who should be there? . . . Where are
you going?"

" No, no,"— repeated Pyetushkoff, wresting
himself from Onisim's hands:—" Let me go,— I
saw,— don't tell me,— I saw there,— let me go.
. . . . Vasilisa! " —he suddenly shrieked.

Pyetushkoff turned pale.

" Well .... Well, why dost not thou come
in? " -he began at last.—" Come in, Vasilisa,
come in ! I 'm very glad to see thee, Vasilisa."

246

PYETUSHKOFF

Vasilisa looked at Onisim— and entered the
room. Pyetushkoff approached her. . . . He
was breathing deeply and at long intervals. Om-
sim watched them. Vasilisa cast timorous, side-
long glances at both of them.

" Sit down, Vasilisa,"— began Ivan Afanasie-
vitch again:— "I thank thee for coming. Ex-
cuse me, if I .... how shall I say it? . . .
that I am in such an unseemly state. I could not
foresee this, I could n't possibly, you must agree
to that. Come, sit down here, on the divan. . . .
I think I am expressing myself correctly? "

Vasilisa sat down.

:e Well, good morning,"— went on Pyetush-
koff.— " And how art thou getting along? What
nice things hast thou been doing? "

"I 'm well, thank God, Ivan Afanasievitch.
And how are you? "

"I? as thou seest! Killed! And killed by
whom? Killed by thee, Vasilisa. But I 'm not
angry with thee. Only, I 'm killed. Just ask
this man here." (He pointed at Onisim. ) " Don't
mind if I am drunk. I am drunk, that 's a fact;
only, I 'm killed. I 'm drunk because I 'm killed."

" God have mercy, Ivan Afanasievitch ! "

" Killed, Vasilisa, I tell thee. Do thou believe
me. I have never deceived thee. Well, and how
is thy aunt? "

" Well, Ivan Afanasievitch. Many thanks."

Pyetushkoff began to stagger violently.
247

PYETUSHKOFF

" But you are ill to-day, Ivan Af anasievitch.
You ought to go to bed."

" No, I 'm well, Vasilisa. No, don't say that
I 'm not well ; but say, rather, that I have plunged
into vice, that I have lost my morality. That
would be just. I should not dispute that."

Ivan Af anasievitch swayed backward. Onisim
sprang forward and supported his master.

" And who 's to blame? I '11 tell thee, if thou
wishest, who 's to blame; shall I?

" I am to blame, I, first of all. What ought
I to have done? I ought to have said to thee:
' Vasilfsa, I love thee.' Well, good. Come, wilt
thou marry me? Wilt thou? 'T is true that thou
art of the burgher class, let us say; but that is
nothing. That sort of thing is done. There was
an acquaintance of mine, for example: he also
married in that way. He took a Finnish woman.
He went and married her. And thou wouldst
have been well off with me. I am a kind man, God
is my witness, I am! Thou must not mind if I
am drunk, but rather do thou look into my heart.
Here, now, ask this .... man. So it turns out
that I am the guilty person. But now, of course,
I am killed."

Ivan Afanasievitch grew more and more in
need of Onfsim's support.

" And, nevertheless, 't was a sin on thy part, a
great sin. I loved thee, I revered thee, I ....
what did I not do? And even now I 'm ready

248

PYETUSHKOFF

to be married this very minute. Wiltthou? Only
say so, and we '11 be married immediately. Only
thou hast mortally wounded my feelings ....
mortally. Thou mightest have refused me thy-
self, or through thy aunt, through that horrible
fat woman. For thou wert my only joy. For I
am a homeless man, a poor, lonely orphan!
Whom can I persuade to love me now? Who is
there to say a kind word to me ? For I 'm a poor,
lonely man,— a full orphan,— as poor as a church
mouse. Ask thi . . . ." Ivan Afanasievitch fell
to weeping. — '* Vasilisa, hearken to what I have
to say to thee," — he went on:— " permit me to go
to thee as of yore. Be not afraid .... I will
be very discreet. Do thou go to whomsoever thou
wishest, I won't mind: just that, without re-
proaches, seest thou. Come, dost thou consent?
Wouldst thou like to have me go down on my
knees?" — (And Ivan Afanasievitch began to
bend his knees, but Onisim caught him under
the arm-pits. ) — " Let me go ! 'T is no business of
thine! 'T is a question of the happiness of a
whole life, dost understand? And thou art in
the way. . . ."

Vasilisa did not know what to say.

"Thou wilt not ... Well, as thou seest fit!
God bless thee! In that case, farewell! Fare-
Well, Vasilisa. I wish thee all happiness and
prosperity .... and I .... and I . ..."

And PyetushkofF wept in torrents. Onisim
249

PYETUSHKOFF

held him up from behind with all his might . . .
first making a very wry face, then beginning to
cry himself. . . . And Vasilisa wept also.

XI

TEN years later, one could encounter on the
streets of the town of O*** a thin man with a
small, red nose, clad in an old green coat with
a greasy velveteen collar. He occupied a tiny
garret in the bake-shop with which we are ac-
quainted. Praskovya Ivanovna was no longer
in the land of the living. Her niece, Vasilisa,
managed the business, assisted by her husband,
a red-haired, purblind petty burgher named
Demofont. The man in the green coat had one
weakness: he was fond of getting drunk, but he
behaved himself peaceably, nevertheless. My
readers have, probably, recognised in him Ivan
Afanasievitch.

250

THE TWO FRIENDS

(1853)

THE TWO FRIENDS

IN the spring of 184. ., Boris Andreitch Vya-
zovnin, a young man of six-and-twenty, ar-
rived at his hereditary estate, situated in one of
the Governments of the central zone of Russia.
He had only just retired from the service,—" ow-
ing to family circumstances," — and was intend-
ing to occupy himself with the management of
his property. A happy thought, of course!
Only Boris Andreitch conceived it, as is gene-
rally the case, against his own will. His revenues
were diminishing year by year, his debts were
increasing: he had become convinced of the im-
possibility of remaining in the service, of living in
the capital,— in a word, of living as he had lived
hitherto, and he had decided, most reluctantly, to
devote several years to improving those " family
circumstances," thanks to which he suddenly
found himself in the rural wilds.

Vyazovnin found his estate in disorder, his
manor neglected, the house almost falling to ruin ;
he changed his superintendent, and reduced the
number of house-serfs; he cleaned out two or
three rooms, and ordered new boards to be ap-

253

THE TWO FRIENDS

plied at points where the roof leaked; but he
undertook no harsh measures, and did not plan
any improvements, as the result of the, appar-
ently, simple idea that one should first find out,
at least, what he wants to improve. ... So, then,
he set to work to learn about farming, and began,
as the saying is, by penetrating into the core of
the matter. It must be admitted that he pene-
trated into the core of the matter without any
special ardour, and without haste. Being unac-
customed to the country, he was terribly bored,
and often could not imagine how and where he
was to pass the whole long day. He had a good
many neighbours, but he did not consort with
them— not because he avoided them, but simply
because he did not happen to come in contact with
them. At last, when autumn had already come,
he chanced to make the acquaintance of one of his
nearest neighbours.

This neighbour's name was Piotr Vasilitch
Krupitzyn. He had formerly served in the cav-
alry, and had retired with the rank of lieutenant.
Between his peasants and Vyazovnin's peasants,
from time immemorial, a controversy had raged
over two and a half desyatinas of mowing-land.
They not infrequently came to blows; the hay-
ricks mysteriously travelled from place to place;
various unpleasantnesses occurred; and, in all
probability, this quarrel would have continued for
many years more, had not Krupitzyn, on learning

254

THE TWO FRIENDS

indirectly of Boris Andreitch's pacific qualities,
gone to him for a personal conference. The re-
sults of this conference were very agreeable. In
the first place, the matter was settled forthwith
and forever, to the mutual satisfaction of the
property-owners; and, in the second place, they
took a great liking to each other, began to see
each other frequently, and by winter, they had
already become so intimate that they were hardly
ever separated.

And, nevertheless, they had very little in com-
mon. Vyazovnin as a man who, although not
wealthy himself, was the son of wealthy parents,
had received a good education, had studied at
the university, knew various languages, was fond
of occupying himself with the perusal of books,
and, in general, might be regarded as a cultivated
man. Krupitzyn, on the contrary, spoke French
indifferently, never took a book in his hand with-
out some special need, and belonged rather to
the category of uneducated men. In external
appearance also the friends bore but little resem-
blance to each other : Vyazovnin was quite tall of
stature, slender, fair-haired, and looked like an
Englishman, kept his person, particularly his
hands, very clean, dressed elegantly, and wore
dandified neckcloths . , . . habits of the capital !
Krupitzyn, on the contrary, was short of stature,
round-shouldered, swarthy, black-haired, and
went about winter and summer in a sort of sack-

255

THE TWO FRIENDS

overcoat, with protruding pockets, made of cloth
of a bronze hue.

" I like this colour,"— he was wont to say,—
" because it does n't show spots."

That colour really did not soil easily, but the
cloth itself was pretty well besprinkled with spots,
nevertheless. Vyazovrim was fond of good eat-
ing, and liked to talk about how agreeable it was
to have good food, and what it meant to have
taste; Krupitzyn ate everything which was set
before him, so long as he had something for his
jaws to work upon. If it happened to be cab-
bage-soup with buckwheat groats, he ladled up
the soup with pleasure, and devoured the buck-
wheat groats ; if he was offered thin foreign soup,
he applied himself with equal readiness to the
soup, and if there happened to be any buckwheat
groats on hand, he poured it into his plate, — and
it was all right. He loved kvas, according to his
own expression, " like his own father." French
wines, which he called " sour stuff," he could not
endure, especially claret. Altogether, Krupitzyn
was very far from being fastidious, while Vya-
zovnin changed his pocket-handkerchief twice a
day. In a word, the friends, as we have said
above, did not resemble each other. One thing
they had in common: they were both what is
called " nice young fellows, simple lads." Kru-
pitzyn had been born so, and Vyazovnin had be-
come so. In addition to this, both of them were

256

THE TWO FRIENDS

distinguished by the fact that neither liked any-
thing in particular,— that is to say, had no par-
ticular passion or predilection for anything.
Krupitzyn was seven or eight years older than
Vyazovnin.

Their days passed in a rather monotonous man-
ner. As a rule, in the morning, but not too early,
—about nine o'clock,— Boris Andreitch was al-
ready sitting at the window, in a handsome dress-
ing-gown open on the breast, with his hair
brushed, all washed, in a snow-white shirt, with a
book and a cup of tea. The door opened, and
Piotr Vasilitch entered in his customary untidy
condition. His hamlet lay only half a verst from
Vyazovna (that was the name of Boris Andre-
itch's estate). Moreover, Piotr Vasilitch fre-
quently stayed over night with Boris Andreitch.

" Ah, good morning! "—they both said simul-
taneously.—" How did you sleep? "

And thereupon Fediiishka (an urchin of
eleven years, garbed as a page, whose very hair,
which stood on end even on the back of his head,
like a sandpiper's feathers in springtime, had
a sleepy air) brought Piotr Vasilitch his dress-
ing-gown of Bukhara stuff, and Piotr Vasi-
litch, after a preliminary grunt, donned the
dressing-gown, and began on his tea and his pipe.
Then conversation began— leisurely conversa-
tion, with pauses and rests. They talked about
the weather, about the preceding day, about field

257

THE TWO FRIENDS

labours and the price of grain; they also talked
about the landed gentry of the vicinity, male and
female. In the early days of his acquaintance-
ship with Boris Andreitch, Piotr Vasilitch had
regarded it as his duty, and had even delighted
in the chance, to interrogate his neighbour con-
cerning the life of the capital, concerning science
and culture in general,— and concerning lofty
topics as a whole. Boris Andreitch's replies had
interested him, frequently surprised him, and ar-
rested his attention; but, at the same time, they
had caused him some fatigue, so that all such con-
versations speedily came to an end; and Boris
Andreitch himself, on his side, did not display
any superfluous anxiety to renew them. Occa-
sionally thereafter— and that at rare intervals—
Piotr Vasilitch would suddenly ask Boris Andre-
itch, for instance, " what sort of a thing is the
electrical telegraph?" and after listening to
Boris Andreitch's not entirely lucid explanation,
he would say, after a pause: " Yes, that 's won-
derful! " and for a long time thereafter he would
not inquire about any learned subject whatso-
ever. The conversations between them were
mostly of the following nature. Piotr Vasilitch,
for example, would collect the smoke from his
pipe, and emitting it through his nostrils, would
inquire :

' What 's that new girl you Ve got? I saw her
at the back door, Boris Andreitch? "

258

THE TWO FRIENDS

Boris Andreitch, in his turn, would raise his
cigar to his mouth, take a couple of puffs, and
after swallowing a sip of cold tea, would articu-
late:

" What new girl? "

Piotr Vasilitch would bend somewhat to one
side, and staring through the window into the
courtyard, where a dog had just bitten a bare-
legged urchin on the calf, would reply:

:< The very fair-haired one . . . quite pretty."

" Ah! " —Boris Andreitch would exclaim, after
a brief pause:— " that 's my new laundress."

''' Where does she come from?"— asks Piotr
Vasilitch, as though surprised.

" From Moscow. She has been there for
training."

And then both are silent for a while.

" And how many laundresses have you in all,
Boris Andreitch? " —asks Piotr Vasilitch, staring
attentively at the tobacco which is flashing with
a crisp, crackling noise under the hot ashes in his
pipe.

' Three,"— replies Boris Andreitch.

' Three ! I have only one. And that one has
hardly anything to do. You know yourself, I
think, how much washing I have ! "

" H'm! "—replies Boris Andreitch.

And the conversation ceases for a time.

In these pursuits the morning passed, and
breakfast-time arrived; Piotr Vasilitch was par-

259

THE TWO FRIENDS

ticularly fond of his breakfast, and insisted that
twelve o'clock is the very hour when a man feels
hungry; and, in fact, at that hour, he ate so
cheerily, with such healthy and agreeable appe-
tite, that even a German would have rejoiced at
the sight of him: so glorious a breakfast did
Piotr Vasilitch make ! Boris Andreitch ate much
less; he was satisfied with a chicken cutlet, or a
couple of soft-boiled eggs with butter and some
English sauce in an artfully constructed and
patented vessel, for which he had paid a heavy
price, and which he privately considered disgust-
ing, although he asserted that he could not eat
a single morsel without it. After breakfast the
two friends made the round of the farm, if the
weather was good, or simply took a stroll, and
looked to see how the young horses were coming
on with their training, and so forth. Sometimes
they went as far as Piotr Vasilitch's hamlet, and
once in a while, they dropped into his little
house.

This little house, tiny and rickety, bore more
resemblance to the plain hovel of a house-serf
than to the homestead of a landed proprietor. On
the straw thatch, riddled all the way around with
the nests of swallows and daws, grew green moss ;
of the two buildings constructed of aspen logs,
formerly fitted together, one had fallen back-
ward, and the other was nodding sideways, and
had sunk into the ground : in a word, Piotr Vasi-

260

THE TWO FRIENDS

litch's house was wretched both outside and in.
But Piotr Vasilitch did not fall into despon-
dency: being a bachelor, and in general not an
exacting man, he took little heed of the comforts
of life, and contented himself with the fact that
he had a place where he could take refuge, in
case of need, from stormy weather and cold. His
housekeeper, Makedoniya, a woman of middle
age, very zealous and even honest, but unlucky,
looked after his household: but nothing suc-
ceeded with her; the crockery got smashed, the
linen got torn, the food was under-cooked or
over-cooked. Piotr Vasilitch called her Caligula.
Being possessed of an innate inclination for
hospitality, Piotr Vasilitch was fond of seeing
guests at his house, and of entertaining them, not-
withstanding the scantiness of his means. He
made special efforts, and bustled more than usual
when Boris Andreitch visited him; but, thanks
to Makedoniya, who, moreover, nearly flew off
her feet at every step with zeal, poor Piotr Vasi-
litch's entertainments always turned out ex-
tremely ill-starred, and were chiefly confined to
a morsel of the raw-dried back of sturgeon, hard-
ened with age, and a glass of vodka, concerning
which he expressed himself with entire justice
when he said that it was capital against the stom-
ach. After a stroll, the two friends were wont
to return to Boris Andreitch's house and dine in
leisurely fashion. After having eaten as heartily

261

THE TWO FRIENDS

as though he had had no breakfast, Piotr Vasi-
litch would take himself off to some solitary nook
and sleep two or three hours; Boris Andreitch,
during that interval, read the foreign newspa-
pers. In the evening, the two friends met to-
gether again: such friendship had sprung up be-
tween them! Sometimes they sat down to play
at preference, just the two by themselves; some-
times they simply chatted in the same manner
as in the morning; and it sometimes happened
that Piotr Vasilitch would take his guitar from
the wall, and sing various romances in a fairly
agreeable tenor voice. Piotr Vasilitch was much
fonder of music than was Boris Andreitch, who
could not utter the name of Beethoven without
enthusiasm, and who was perpetually making
ready to order a piano from Moscow. In mo-
ments of sadness or dejection, Piotr Vasilitch had
a habit of singing a romance which dated from
the days of his service with his regiment. . . .
With particular feeling, and somewhat through
his nose, he would warble the following lines :

4 * No Frenchman runs our kitchen,
But an orderly cooks our dinner. . . .
The splendid Rode does not act,

Catalan! does not sing. . . .
The trumpeter deftly sounds tattoo,
The quartermaster will come with his report. "

262

THE TWO FRIENDS

Boris Andreitch now and then chimed in, but
his voice was disagreeable and not true to pitch.
About ten o'clock, and sometimes earlier, the
friends separated .... and on the following
day, the same thing began all over again.

So then, one day, as Piotr Vasilitch was sitting,
according to his wont, opposite Boris Andreitch,
in a somewhat oblique line, he stared at him with
a good deal of intentness, and said in a thought-
ful voice:

" I 'm surprised at one thing, Boris Andre-
itch. . . ."

" What 's that? "—asked the latter.

" This. You are a young man, clever, cul-
tured: what possesses you to live in the country? "

Boris Andreitch gazed in astonishment at his
neighbour.

" Surely you are aware, Piotr Vasilitch,"— he
said at last,—" that if it were not for my circum-
stances. . . . Circumstances compel me, Piotr
Vasilitch."

" Circumstances? Your circumstances don't
count, so far. . . . With your estate you can
exist. Get a position in the service."

And after a brief pause, Piotr Vasilitch added :

" If I were in your place, I would enter the
uhlans."

' The uhlans? Why the uhlans in particu-
lar?"

263

THE TWO FRIENDS

" Because it seems to me it would be more fit-
ting for you in the uhlans."

" But excuse me, you yourself served in the
hussars, did you not? "

"I? Of course I did,"— replied Piotr Vasi-
litch with animation,— " and in what a regi-
ment! You '11 not find another such regiment
in all the world! 'T was a regiment of gold!
The commanding officers, my comrades— what
men they were! But you ... I don't know
why . . . but it seems to me that you ought
to enter the uhlans. You are fair of com-
plexion, and you have a slender figure: it all
fits in."

" But excuse me, Piotr Vasilitch, you forget
that, by virtue of the military regulations, I
should have to begin with the rank of yunker.
At my age that is somewhat embarrassing. I
believe it is even prohibited."

" That 's a fact,"— remarked Piotr Vasilitch,
and dropped his eyes.— :( Well, then, in that case,
get married," he suddenly ejaculated, raising his
head.

;< Why, what a queer turn of thought you have
to-day, Piotr Vasilitch!" exclaimed Boris An-
dreitch.

'( Why is it queer? What 's the use, in fact,
of living on like this? What are you waiting for?
You 're only wasting time. I want to know what
profit you will derive from not marrying? "

264

THE TWO FRIENDS

" But profit is not the point,"— began Boris
Andreitch.

" No, permit me,"— Piotr Vasilitch interrupted
him, unexpectedly flying into a passion.—" It 's
amazing to me how afraid the young men of the
present day are of marriage! I simply cannot
understand it. You must n't mind my not being
married, Boris Andreitch. Perhaps I have
wished it, and have proposed it, and that 's what
they did to me."

And here Piotr Vasilitch elevated the fore-
finger of his right hand, with its exterior turned
toward Boris Andreitch.

" And with your property, how can you help
marrying? "

Boris Andreitch gazed attentively at Piotr
Vasilitch.

" Is it a cheerful matter, pray, to lead a bache-
lor life? "-went on Piotr Vasilitch.-" Eka,
what a marvel! here 's mirth for you! . . .
Really, the young men of the present day amaze

me."

And Piotr Vasilitch with irritation knocked the
ashes out of his Turkish pipe on the arm of his
chair, and blew into the tchubiik.

" But who told you, Piotr Vasilitch, that I do
not intend to marry?" said Boris Andreitch,
slowly.

Piotr Vasilitch stopped short, motionless, just
as he was, with his fingers thrust into his

265

THE TWO FRIENDS

tobacco-pouch of dark-red velvet embroidered
with spangles. Boris Andreitch's words sur-
prised him.

" Yes,"— went on Boris Andreitch:— " I am
ready to marry. Find me a bride, and I will
marry."

" Truly? "

" Truly."

" No, by God? "

" What ails you, Piotr Vasilitch? By God, I 'm
not jesting."

Piotr Vasilitch filled his pipe.

" Well, look out for yourself, Boris Andreitch.
You shall have a bride."

' Very good,"— returned Boris Andreitch:—
" but hearken to me— why, in reality, do you wish
to get me married? "

:< Why, because, as I look at you, you have no
capacity for doing nothing."

Boris Andreitch smiled.

" On the contrary, up to this moment it has
struck me that I am a master-hand at that."

' You don't understand me rightly,"— said
Piotr Vasilitch, and changed the conversation.

Two days later, Piotr Vasilitch presented him-
self before his neighbour, not in his habitual
paletot-sack, but in a frock-coat, black as the
raven's wing, with a high waist, tiny buttons and
long sleeves. Piotr Vasilitch's moustache looked
almost black with dye, and his hair, tightly curled

206

THE TWO FRIENDS

in front, in the shape of two long sausages, glis-
tened brightly with pomade. A big velvet stock
with a satin band tightly compressed Piotr Vasi-
litch's throat and imparted a solemn immobility
and a festive mien to the entire upper portion of
his body.

'What is the meaning of this toilet?"— in-
quired Boris Andreitch.

1 The meaning of this toilet,"— replied Piotr
Vasilitch, sinking into an arm-chair, but not with
his customary free-and-easy manner,— "is that
you are to order the calash to be harnessed up.
We are going for a drive."

"Whither?"

" To the bride."

"To what bride?"

:c Why, have you forgotten already what you
and I were talking about three days ago? "

Boris Andreitch burst out laughing, but in his
soul he was disconcerted.

" Good gracious! Piotr Vasilitch,— why, that
was only a joke."

" A joke? Did n't you swear at the time that
you were not jesting? No, excuse me, Boris
Andreitch, but you must keep your word. I have
already taken the proper measures."

Boris Andreitch was more disconcerted than
ever.

" But what measures are you referring to? "
he asked.

267

THE TWO FRIENDS

" Oh, don't you worry. . . . What do you
think ! I have only warned one of our lady neigh-
bours, a most charming person, that you and I
intend to call upon her to-day."

" What neighbour is that? "

:< Wait, and you will find out. Here, now, first
dress yourself, and order the horses to be har-
nessed."

Boris Andreitch cast an irresolute glance
around him.

" Really, Piotr Vasilitch, I don't know what
possesses you .... just see what the weather
is like."

"Never mind the weather; it 's always like
that."

" And have we far to go? "

" Fifteen versts."

Boris Andreitch said nothing for a while.

" But we might breakfast first, at least! "

" Breakfast is all right— we can do that. Do
you know what, Boris Andreitch: go and dress
yourself now, and I '11 give all the necessary
orders without you; a little vodka, a bit of dried
sturgeon— that does not take long, and they '11
feed us at our little widow's— there 's no need of
worrying about that."

"Is she a widow? "—asked Boris Andreitch,
who was already at the door of his study, turning
round.

Piotr Vasilitch wagged his head.
268

THE TWO FRIENDS

' You shall see, you shall see."

Boris Andreitch left the room and locked the
door behind him, while Piotr Vasilitch, when he
was left alone, gave orders concerning both the
calash and the breakfast.

Boris Andreitch took a pretty long time to
dress. Piotr Vasilitch was already draining his
second glass of vodka, with a slight frown and a
melancholy expression, when Boris Andreitch
made his appearance on the threshold of his
study. He had taken great pains with his toilet.
He wore a foppishly-cut capacious black coat,
whose dull mass contrasted agreeably with the
dull gleam of his light-grey trousers, a low
black stock, and a handsome, dark-blue waist-
coat; a gold chain, fastened by a hook through
the lowest buttonhole, lost itself modestly in a
side pocket; his thin boots squeaked aristocrat-
ically, and along with the appearance of Boris
Andreitch, the odour of ess-bouquet mingled with
the odour of fresh linen was disseminated in the
air. All that Piotr Vasilitch could do was to
ejaculate " Ah! " —and immediately seize his cap.

Boris Andreitch drew on his left hand a grey
glace-kid glove, having preliminarily blown
into it; then with the same hand he nervously
poured himself out a quarter of a glass of
vodka, and drank it; finally, he took his hat,
and went out with Piotr Vasilitch into the ante-
room.

269

THE TWO FRIENDS

" I 'm only doing this for you,"— said Boris
Andreitch, as he took his seat in the calash.

" Let us assume that it is for me,"— said Piotr
Vasilitch, on whom Boris Andreitch's elegant
appearance was, obviously, taking effect;— " but
perhaps you will thank me for yourself."

And he told the coachman how and where to
drive. The calash rolled off.

" We are going to Sofya Kirillovna Zadnye-
provsky,"— remarked Piotr Vasilitch, after a
decidedly prolonged interval, during the course of
which both friends had been sitting as motion-
less as though they were made of stone. — " Have
you heard about her? "

" I think I have,"— replied Boris Andreitch.

" And are you reserving her for my bride,
pray? "

" And why should n't I? She is a woman of
excellent mind, with means, with manners which
may be called the manners of the capital. How-
ever, you can inspect her .... that does not
bind you to anything."

"I should think not! "—returned Boris An-
dreitch.—" And how old is she? "

' Twenty-five or twenty-eight— not more
than that. In her very prime, as the saying is ! "

It was not fifteen, but a good five-and-twenty
versts to Madame Zadnyeprovsky's, so that Boris
Andreitch got very thoroughly chilled toward
the end, and kept hiding his reddened nose in the

270

THE TWO FRIENDS

beaver collar of his cloak. Piotr Vasilitch was not
afraid of the cold, in general— and, in particular,
when he was dressed in festive attire. Then he
was, rather, subject to perspiration. Madame Za-
dnyeprovsky's manor consisted of a small, new,
white house, with a green roof, in the style of a
suburban villa, in city taste, with a small garden
and courtyard. Such villas are frequently to be
met with in the environs of Moscow; in the prov-
inces they are more rarely encountered. It was
evident that Madame Zadnyeprovsky had not
been settled there long. The friends alighted
from the calash. On the porch they were received
by a footman in yellowish-grey trousers and a
round grey frock-coat, the buttons stamped with
a coat of arms ; in the anteroom, which was quite
tidy, but with a locker-bench, another footman of
the same sort met them. Piotr Vasilitch ordered
the man to announce him and Boris Andreitch.
The lackey did not go to his mistress, but re-
plied that he had orders to show them in.

The guests put themselves to rights, and pass-
ing through the dining-room, in which a canary-
bird was trilling in a deafening manner, they
entered the drawing-room, filled with fashionable
furniture from a Russian shop, very artful and
contorted in shape, under the pretext of insuring
the comfort of the persons who should sit upon
it, but in reality extremely uncomfortable. Two
minutes had not elapsed before the rustle of a

271

THE TWO FRIENDS

silken gown became audible in the adjoining
room; the portiere was lifted, and the mistress
of the house entered the drawing-room with brisk
steps. Piotr Vasilitch bowed and scraped and
led Boris Andreitch up to her.

" I am very glad to make your acquaintance,
and have long wished to do so," — said the host-
ess easily, as she swept a swift glance over him
from head to foot;— "I am very grateful to
Piotr Vasilitch for procuring me so agreeable an
acquaintance. I beg that you will be seated."

And the hostess seated herself, rustling her
gown as she did so, on a low couch, leaned
against the back, stretched out her feet, shod in
very pretty little boots, and crossed her hands.
Her gown was of green glace silk, with whitish
reflections, and had several rows of flounces.

Boris Andreitch seated himself in an arm-chair
opposite her; Piotr Vasilitch a little farther
away. Conversation began. Boris Andreitch
inspected Sofya Kirillovna with attention. She
was a tall, well-built woman, with a slender
waist, a dark skin, and quite handsome. The ex-
pression of her face, and especially of her eyes,
which were large and brilliant, with up-lifted cor-
ners, such as the Chinese have, evinced a strange
mixture of daring and timidity, and could not
possibly be designated as natural. She would
narrow her eyes, then suddenly open them very
wide; and on her lips there constantly hovered

272

THE TWO FRIENDS

a smile, which was intended to appear indifferent.
All Sofya Kirillovna's movements were very
free, almost abrupt. Nevertheless, her appear-
ance pleased Boris Andreitch; the only thing
which affected him unpleasantly was that her hair
was parted on one side, which gave to her features
a bold, boyish aspect; moreover, she expressed
herself too purely and regularly in Russian, in
his opinion. . . . Boris Andreitch shared the
view of Pushkin, that —

As rosy lips without a smile,
So without grammatical errors —

it is impossible to love the Russian language. In
a word, Sofya Kirillovna belonged to the cate-
gory of women who are called by their admirers
" clever ladies," by their husbands " pugna-
cious persons," and by old bachelors " sprightly
females."

The conversation turned first on the tedium
of country life.

" There simply is n't a living soul here, simply
not a single person with whom to exchange a
word,"— said Sofya Kirillovna, pronouncing the
letter s with particular distinctness.— " I cannot
understand what sort of people it is who live
here. And those,"— she added with a grimace,
— " with whom one would find acquaintance
agreeable, don't come to us; they leave us, poor
wretches, in our cheerless solitude."

273

THE TWO FRIENDS

Boris Andreitch bent forward slightly, and
muttered some awkward excuse, while Piotr Va-
silitch merely darted a glance at him, as though
desirous of saying: " Well, what did I tell you?
I don't think the lady stands on ceremony as to
her words."

" Do you smoke? "—asked Sofya Kirillovna.
" Yes .... but ... ."
" Pray, smoke ... I do it myself."
And so saying, the widow took from the table
a fairly large cigar-case, drew from it a cigarette,
and offered it to her visitors. Each visitor took
a cigarette. Sofya Kirillovna rang and ordered
a small boy with a red waistcoat which covered
his entire breast, who entered, to bring a light.
The urchin brought a wax taper in a crystal can-
dle-stick. The cigarettes began to emit smoke.

" Here, now, for instance, you would n't believe
it,"— pursued the widow, throwing her head
back a little, and emitting smoke in a slender
stream upward:— " there are people here who
think that ladies ought not to smoke. And as
for riding on horseback, God forbid ! they would
simply stone them to death.— Yes,"— she added,
after a brief pause,— " everything which stands
out above the ordinary level, everything which
breaks the law of some fictitious propriety, is
subjected here to the severest condemnation."

' The ladies are particularly shrewish in that
line,"— remarked Piotr Vasilitch.

274

THE TWO FRIENDS

" Yes,"— responded the widow.—" 'T is a ca-
lamity for them to get their tongues loosed on
you! However, I have nothing whatever to do
with them; their gossip does not penetrate into
my desert asylum."

" And are you not bored? " —asked Boris An-
dreitch.

:c Bored? No. I read. . . . And when I get
tired of books, I meditate; I divine the future,
I put questions to my Fate."

"Do you really tell fortunes? "—asked Piotr
Vasilitch.

The widow smiled indulgently.

"And why should n't I tell fortunes? I 'm
already old enough for that."

" Oh, why do you say that? "—retorted Piotr
Vasilitch.

Sofya Kirillovna gazed at him with her eyes
narrowed.

" But let us drop this conversation,"— said she,
and turned to Boris Andreitch with vivacity:—
" listen, Monsieur Vyazovnm, I am convinced
that you are interested in Russian literature."

"Yes .... of course, I . ..."

Vyazovnm was fond of reading, but he read lit-
tle, and that reluctantly, in Russian. Recent lit-
erature, in particular, was unknown to him: he
had stopped at Pushkin.

" Tell me, please, why Marlinsky has become
so unpopular of late? In my opinion, that is in

275

THE TWO FRIENDS

the highest degree unjust. What is your opinion
of him? "

" Marlinsky is a writer of merit, of course,"
—replied Boris Andreitch.

" He is a poet; he carries the imagination into
a world .... into such an enchanting, wonder-
ful world; but nowadays people have begun to
describe everyday things. Well, good gracious,
what is there good about everyday life here on
earth. . . ."

And Sofya Kirillovna described a circle about
her with her hand.

Boris Andreitch looked significantly at Sofya
Kirillovna.

" I do not agree with you. I think there is a
great deal of good here," — he said, laying special
emphasis on the last word.

Sofya Kirillovna suddenly burst out into a
harsh sort of laugh, while Piotr Vasilitch as sud-
denly raised his head, reflected, and set to smok-
ing again. The conversation continued in the
same way in which it had begun until dinner-
time, skipping incessantly from one subject to
another, which does not happen when a conver-
sation becomes really interesting. Among other
things, it turned on marriage, on its advantages
and disadvantages, and on the position of woman
in general. Sofya Kirillovna stood up strongly
against marriage, got excited at last, and feel-
ing conscious of ardour, expressed herself very

276

THE TWO FRIENDS

eloquently, although her interlocutors hardly
contradicted her at all: not without cause did she
love Marlinsky. She was also able to resort to
ornamentation of the newest style. The words:
" artistic," " picturesque," " dependent on,"
fairly poured from her mouth.

'' What can be more precious to a woman than
freedom— freedom of thought, of feeling, of ac-
tion! " she exclaimed at last.

" But permit me,"-— Piotr Vasilitch inter-
rupted her; his face had begun to assume a dis-
satisfied expression;— " what does a woman want
with freedom? What will she do with it? "

:< What do you mean by ' what ' ? And is it
necessary to man, according to your ideas?
That 's it exactly; you, gentlemen . . . ."

" But it is n't necessary to man,"— Piotr Vasi-
litch interrupted her again.

'* What, — it is n't necessary? "

' Yes, precisely that, it is n't necessary. What
does a man want of that lauded freedom? When
a man is free 't is a well-known fact that he
either is bored or he makes a fool of himself."

"Consequently,"— remarked Sofya Kirillovna,
with an ironical smile:— "you are bored; there-
fore, knowing you to be a sensible man, I cannot
assume that you have made a fool of yourself,
as you put it."

" Both things happen,"— said Piotr Vasilitch,
calmly.

277

THE TWO FRIENDS

" That 's charming! However, I ought to be
grateful to your boredom for giving me the
pleasure of seeing you at my house to-day. . . ."

And, pleased with the rather clever turn of her
phrase, the hostess threw herself back and articu-
lated in an undertone:

" I perceive that your friend is fond of para-
doxes, Mr. Vyazovnin."

" I have not observed it,"— replied Boris An-
dreitch.

" What is it that I am fond of? " -inquired
Piotr Vasilitch.

" Paradoxes."

Piotr Vasilitch looked Sofya Kirillovna
straight in the eye, and made her no reply, but
merely thought to himself: " I know what thou
art fond of. . . ."

The little boy with the red waistcoat entered
and announced that dinner was served.

" Do me the favour,"— said the hostess, rising
from the divan.

And they all went into the dining-room.

The guests did not like the dinner. Piotr Vasi-
litch rose from the table hungry, although there
were a great many viands ; and Boris Andreitch,
as a judge of good eating, was displeased, al-
though the food was served under pewter covers,
and the individual plates were served hot. The
wine, also, turned out to be bad, in spite of the
magnificent labels, adorned with gold and silver,

278

THE TWO FRIENDS

on the bottles. Sofya Kirillovna did not cease
talking, — only from time to time she darted ex-
pressive looks at the servants, and she drank a
considerable amount of wine, remarking as she
did so, that in England all the ladies take wine,
but here it is considered indecorous. After din-
ner, the hostess invited Boris Andreitch and Piotr
Vasilitch to return to the drawing-room, and in-
quired of them which they preferred— coffee or
yellow tea. Boris Andreitch asked for tea, and
when he had drained his cup, regretted that he
had not taken coffee ; while Piotr Vasilitch asked
for coffee, and when he had drained his cup, he
asked for tea, and having tasted it, he set the
cup back on the tray. The hostess seated herself,
lighted a cigarette, and evidently was not averse
to entering upon the most vivacious conversation ;
her eyes were blazing, and her swarthy cheeks
glowed scarlet. But the guests made languid
answers to her bold speeches, occupied themselves
chiefly with smoking, and, judging from their
glances, which suddenly became riveted on the
corners of the room, were thinking of taking their
departure. However, Boris Andreitch would, in
all probability, have consented to remain until
evening; he was already on the point of entering
into a debate with Sofya Kirillovna in answer to
her coquettish question: " Was not he surprised
at her living alone, without a female compan-
ion? " but Piotr Vasilitch was plainly in haste to

279

THE TWO FRIENDS

go home. He rose, went out into the anteroom,
and ordered the horses to be put to. When, at
last, the two friends began to take their leave,
and the hostess began to try to detain them, and
amiably to expostulate with them for having
stayed so short a time with her, Boris Andreitch,
with an irresolute inclination of his body, and a
smirking expression on his face, showed that, at
all events, her reproaches were taking effect on
him; but Piotr Vasilitch, on the contrary, kept
muttering: "Absolutely impossible, ma'am; 't is
high time we were going, ma'am— business,
ma'am— 't is moonlight now,"— and backed ob-
stinately toward the door. Sofya Kirillovna made
them promise, however, that they would visit her
again in a few days, and offered them her hand,
in English fashion. Boris Andreitch alone ac-
cepted her offer, and squeezed her fingers fairly
tight. She screwed up her eyes, and smiled.
At that moment, Piotr Vasilitch was already
thrusting his arms into his coat-sleeves in the
anteroom.

Before the calash had got clear of the village,
he was the first to break the silence, with the
exclamation :

" She is n't the thing, she is n't the thing— she
won't do, she is n't the right thing! "

' What are you trying to say? "—Boris An-
dreitch asked him.

" She is n't the thing, she is n't the thing,"
280

THE TWO FRIENDS

—repeated Piotr Vasilitch, averting his eyes, and
turning slightly away.

" If you are saying that about Sofya Kiril-
lovna, I don't agree with you; she is a very
charming lady,— with affectations, but charm-
ing."

" I should think so ! Of course, if only
in order, for instance. . . But with what object
did I wish to make you acquainted with her,
pray?';

Boris Andreitch did not answer.

" I tell you again, she is n't the thing! I see
that myself. I like that — the way she speaks
of herself: * I 'm an epicurean.' Excuse me; two
of my teeth are missing on the right side — but do
I talk about that? Everybody can see it with-
out any words of mine. And, moreover, what
sort of a house-wife is she? She has nearly
starved us to death. No, in my opinion, be free
and easy, be well-read, if the fancy strikes you,
be stylish, only be a good house-wife first of all.
No, she is n't the thing ; she won't do ; that 's not
the sort of thing you need. You are not to be
dazzled with red waistcoats or covers to the
dishes."

" But do you find it necessary that I should be
dazzled? "-inquired Boris Andreitch.

" I know well what you need,— I know now."

" I assure you, that I am indebted to you for
introducing me to Sofya Kirillovna."

281

THE TWO FRIENDS

" So much the better; but she won't do, I re-
peat it."

It was late when the friends reached home.
As Piotr Vasilitch parted from Boris Andreitch,
he took his hand and said:

" All the same, I won't leave you in peace. I
won't give you back your promise."

" Goodness, I am at your service,"— replied
Boris Andreitch.

" Well, that 's fine."

And Piotr Vasilitch went his way.

A whole week passed again in the usual rou-
tine, with this peculiarity, however, that Piotr
Vasilitch absented himself somewhere or other
for an entire day. At last, one morning he made
his appearance dressed in festal array, and again
invited Boris Andreitch to drive with him to make
a call. Boris Andreitch, who evidently had been
expecting this invitation with a certain amount
of impatience, submitted without resistance.

£ Whither are you taking me this time? " — he
asked Piotr Vasilitch, as he seated himself beside
him in the sledge.

Winter had had time to close in since their drive
to Sofya Kirillovna.

" I am taking you now, Boris Andreitch," — re-
plied Piotr Vasilitch, with pauses between his
words,— "to a very honourable house— to the
TikhodiieiFs'. It is a highly respected family.
The old man served as colonel, and is a very fine

282

THE TWO FRIENDS

fellow. His wife is a very fine woman. They have
two daughters, extremely amiable beings, capi-
tally brought up, and they are wealthy. I don't
know which of them you will like best; one of
them is vivacious, the other quiet; the second is
altogether too shy, I must admit. But both can
stand up for themselves. You will see! "

" Good, I shall see," — replied Boris Andreitch,
and thought to himself: " Exactly like the Larin
family in Onyegin." 1

And whether it was owing to this recollection,
or to some other cause, his features assumed for a
time a disillusioned and bored aspect.

"What is the father's name? "-he asked
carelessly.

"Kalimon I vanitch,"— replied Piotr Vasi-
litch.

"Kalimon! What a name! . . . And the
mother? "

" The mother's name is Pelageya Ivanovna."

" And what are the daughters called? "

" One is Pelageya also, and the other is
Emerentziya."

" Emerentziya? I never heard such a name
in my life. . . . And Kalimonovna into the
bargain."

" Yes, it really is a rather strange name. . . .
But what a girl she is! simply, one may say, all
constituted of some sort of virtuous fire! "

i Pushkin's famous poem, " Evgeny Ony6gin."- TRANSLATOR.

283

THE TWO FRIENDS

" Good gracious, Piotr Vasilitch, how poet-
ically you express yourself! And which is Eme-
rentziya— the quieter of the two? "

" No, the other. . . . But you shall see for
yourself."

"Emerentziya Kalimonovna!" exclaimed Vya-
zovnfn again.

" Her mother calls her Emerance," — remarked
Piotr Vasilitch, in a low voice.

"And her husband— Calimon?"

" I have n't heard her do that. But just wait."

" I will."

It was about twenty-five versts to the Tikho-
dueffs', as it was to Sofya Kirillovna's ; but
their old-fashioned manor did not in the least
resemble the dandified little house of the free
and easy widow. It was a clumsy structure,
commodious and vast, a sort of mass of dark-hued
planks, with dark glass in the windows. By its
sides, in two rows, stood lofty birch-trees; the
dark-brown crests of huge lindens were visible
over the roof — the whole house seemed to be
overgrown on all sides; in summer, this vegeta-
tion probably enlivened the aspect of the manor,
but in winter it imparted to it a still greater air
of melancholy. Neither could the impression
produced by the interior of the house be called
cheerful: everything in it was gloomy and dim,
everything seemed older than it really was.

The friends told the servant to announce them ;
284

THE TWO FRIENDS

they were shown into the drawing-room. The
master and mistress of the house rose to welcome
them, but for a long time could greet them only
with signs and movements of the body, to which
the guests, on their part, replied merely with
smiles and bows: such a frightful barking was
set up by four white lap-dogs which, at the ap-
pearance of strange faces, leaped from the em-
broidered cushions, whereon they had been lying.
The enraged little dogs were reduced to a de-
gree of silence by the waving of handkerchiefs in
the air, and by other means; but one of them,
the oldest and the most vicious, had to be dragged
from under a bench, and carried off into the bed-
room by a maid, who, during the operation, was
bitten in the right hand.

Piotr Vasflitch took advantage of the restored
silence and introduced Boris Andreitch to the
host and hostess. They declared, with one voice,
that they were very glad to see the new acquain-
tance; then Kalimon Ivanitch presented Boris
Andreitch to his daughters, calling them Polinka
and Eminka. There were in the drawing-room
two other persons of the female sex, who were
no longer young; one in a mob-cap, the other
with a dark kerchief on her head. But Kalimon
Ivanitch did not consider it necessary to introduce
Boris Andreitch to them.

Kalimon Ivanitch was a man of fifty-five, tall,
stout, grey-haired; his face had no expression

285

THE TWO FRIENDS

in particular; the features were heavy, plain, with
an imprint of indifference, good-nature, and in-
dolence. His wife, a tiny, thin woman, with
a worn little face, and a false front of reddish
hair under a tall cap, seemed to be in a perennial
flutter; traces of a long-vanished affectation were
perceptible in her.

Of the daughters, one, Pelageya, black-haired
and swarthy of skin, cast side-long glances and
was shy; the other, Emerentziya, on the contrary,
fair-haired, and plump, with round, rosy cheeks,
a small pursed-up mouth, a small snub nose, and
sweet eyes, stood forth prominently; it was evi-
dent that the duty of entertaining guests rested
upon her, and did not in the least incommode
her. Both sisters wore white gowns, with blue
ribbons which fluttered at the slightest movement.
Blue was becoming to Emerentziya, but not to
Polinka . . . and, indeed, it would have been
difficult to find anything which was becoming to
her, although she could not have been called a
homely girl.

The visitors seated themselves; the host and
hostess propounded to them the customary ques-
tions, uttered with that stiff and mawkish expres-
sion of countenance which makes its appearance
with the most well-bred people during the first
moments of conversation with new acquaintances ;
the guests expressed themselves in the same man-
ner. All this produced a rather oppressive im-

286

THE TWO FRIENDS

pression. Kalimon Ivanitch, not being very fer-
tile in expedients by nature, asked Boris Andre-
itch: "was it long since he had come to live in
their parts? " while Boris Andreitch had only
just finished replying to the self -same question,
put by Pelageya Ivanovna. Pelageya Ivanovna,
in a very tender voice,— the voice which is always
used before visitors on the day of their first call,
—reproached her husband with being absent-
minded; Kalimon Ivanitch was somewhat dis-
concerted, and blew his nose noisily into a
checked handkerchief. This sound excited one of
the lap-dogs, and it began to bark; but Emeren-
tziya with ready wit immediately petted the dog
and soothed it. This same young girl managed
to render still another service to her parents, who
were still somewhat bewildered : she enlivened the
conversation by taking her seat modestly but
firmly by the side of Boris Andreitch, and, in her
turn, propounding to him, with the most impres-
sive manner, questions which, although insignifi-
cant, were agreeable, and Calculated to evoke
mirthful replies. Matters were soon proceeding
as they should; a general debate arose, in which
Polinka alone took no part. She stared obsti-
nately at the floor, while Emerentziya was even
laughing, gracefully raising one hand, and at
the same time bearing herself as though she
would have liked to say: " Look, look, how well-
bred and amiable I am, and how much charming

287

THE TWO FRIENDS

playfulness and good will to all men there is
about me!" It seemed as though her lisp also
proceeded from the fact that she was so very
good-natured. She laughed, protracting her
laughter in a delightful manner, although Boris
Andreitch, in the beginning, had not uttered any
particularly-amusing remark; then she laughed
all the more when Boris Andreitch, stimulated
by the success of his words, really did begin to be
witty and say malicious things. . . . Piotr Vasi-
litch laughed also. Vyazovnin remarked, among
other things, that he was passionately fond of
music.

" But how I do love music, why, it 's simply
frightful! " —exclaimed Emerentziya.

' You not only love it — you are a superb musi-
cian yourself," — remarked Piotr Vasilitch.

" Really? " —asked Boris Andreitch.

" Yes,"— continued Piotr Vasilitch :— " and
Emerentziya Kalimonovna and Pelageya Kali-
monovna both sing and play splendidly on the
piano, especially Emerentziya Kalimonovna."

On hearing her name, Polinka flushed and al-
most sprang out of her chair, while Emerentziya
modestly dropped her eyes.

" Akh, mesdemoiselles,"— began Boris Andre-
itch:— "will not you be so kind .... will not
you do me the favour . . . ."

"I really .... don't know. . . ."—lisped
288

THE TWO FRIENDS

Emerentziya— and, darting a stealthy glance at
Piotr Vasilitch, she added reproachfully:—" Akh,
what a man you are ! "

But Piotr Vasilitch, being a resolute man, im-
mediately addressed himself to the hostess.

" Pelageya Ivanovna,"— said he,—" command
your daughters to play us something, or to sing."

" I don't know whether they are in good voice
to-day," — replied Pelageya Ivanovna;— "but
they can try."

"Yes, try, do try,"— said their father.

" Akh, maman, how can we . ..."

ff Emerance, quand je vous dis . . ." said Pe-
lageya Ivanovna in a low tone, but very seriously.

She had a habit, common to many mothers, of
issuing orders, or making hortatory comments to
her children, in the presence of other people, in
the French language, although those other peo-
ple understood French also. And this was all
the more strange, seeing that she herself did not
know that language well, and pronounced it
badly.

Emerentziya rose.

"What shall we sing, maman?"—she asked
submissively.

"Your duet; it 's very pretty.— My daugh-
ters," added Pelageya Ivanovna, turning to Boris
Andreitch,— " have different voices: Emeren-
tziya has a treble . . . ."

289

THE TWO FRIENDS

" Soprano, you mean to say? "

"Yes, yes, soprano. And Polinka has a con-
tralto/'

"Ah! a contralto! that 's very pleasant."

"I can't sing to-day,"— said Polinka, with an
effort;— "I am hoarse."

Her voice really resembled a basso more than
a contralto.

"All! well, in that case, Emerance, sing us
thine aria; thou knowest which— the Italian one,
thy favourite; and Polinka will play thine ac-
companiment.

" The aria where thou patterest, patterest like
a shower of peas," — chimed in her father.

" The one with the bravura,"— explained her
mother.

The two girls went to the piano. Polinka
raised the lid, placed the book of manuscript
music on the rack, and took her seat, while
Emerentziya stood beside her, bridling almost
perceptibly, but very charmingly, beneath the in-
tently riveted glances of Boris Andreitch and
Piotr Vasilitch, and occasionally lifting her hand-
kerchief to her lips. At last she began to sing,
after the fashion of most young ladies, shrilly
and not without howling. She pronounced the
words unintelligibly, but from certain nasal
sounds it could be divined that she was singing
in Italian. Toward the end, she really did pat-
ter like peas, to the great satisfaction of Kalimon

290

THE TWO FRIENDS

Ivanitch,— he rose slightly in his chair and ex-
claimed:— " Well done!"— but she started the
final trill sooner than she should have, so
that her sister had to play several bars alone.
This did not prevent Boris Andreitch, however,
from expressing his pleasure, and paying compli-
ments to Emerentziya; and Piotr Vasilitch, after
repeating a couple of times: " Very, very fine,"
added: " Won't you sing us something Russian
now, 'The Nightingale/ or 'The Sarafan,'1
or some gipsy song? For, to tell the truth, those
foreign pieces are not written for such as we."

" I agree with you there,"— remarked Kalimon
Ivanitch.

(e Chanter . . . ' le Sarafan' '' —remarked the
mother, with the same sternness as before.

" No, not ' The Sarafan,' "—interposed Kali-
mon Ivanitch:— "but 'We are two Gipsies,' or
f DofF thy cap and bow full low ' — knowest
thou? "

"Papa, you are always so queer! "—replied
Emerentziya, and sang " DofF thy cap," and
sang it fairly well. Kalimon Ivanitch hummed
an accompaniment, and beat time with his foot,
while Piotr Vasilitch went into perfect raptures.

"That 's quite another thing! That 's in
our style!"— he kept repeating.— " You have

1The popular song, "The Red Sarafan"— the sarafan being the
full, loose gown of unmarried peasant-girls, gathered into a band
under the arms, and suspended over the shoulders by straps. —TRANS-
LATOR.

291

THE TWO FRIENDS

comforted us, Emerentziya Kalimonovna! . . . .
Now I see that you had a right to call yourself
a lover of music and proficient in it! I agree;
you are fond of it and proficient! "

" Akh, how indiscreet you are! "—retorted
Emerentziya, and was on the point of returning
to her seat.

ft A present f le Sarafan*' —said her mother.

Emerentziya sang " The Sarafan," not so well
as " Doff thy cap," but well, nevertheless.

" Now you ought to play us your sonata for
four hands,"— remarked Pelageya Ivanovna;—
" but it will be better to defer that to another
time, for I fear that we shall bore Mr. Vyazov-
nin."

" Pray, don't mention such a thing . . . ." be-
gan Boris Andreitch.

But Polinka immediately clapped to the lid of
the piano, and Emerentziya announced that she
was tired. Boris Andreitch felt it incumbent on
him to repeat his compliments.

"Akh, Mr. Vyazovnm,"— she replied,— " you
must have heard far better singers, I 'm sure; I
can imagine what my singing sounds like after
them. . . . Bomerius, it is true, said to me when he
passed through here .... I think you must
have heard of Bomerius, have you not? "

" No; who is that Bomerius? "

" Akh, good heavens! a splendid violinist, edu-
cated in the Paris Conservatory, a wonderful

292

THE TWO FRIENDS

musician. ... He said to me, 'Mademoiselle,
with your voice, if you would only study under
a good teacher, the result would be simply mar-
vellous/ He simply kissed all my fingers, one
after the other. . . . But where am I to study
here?"

And Emerentziya heaved a sigh.
' Yes, of course . . . ." replied Boris Andre-
itch, politely;— " but with your talent . . ." He
hesitated, and turned his eyes aside, with still
greater politeness.

{fEm6rance,demande pourquoi que le diner. . ."
said Pelageya Ivanovna.

ff Oui, maman"— replied Emerentziya, and
left the room, giving a pretty little skip in front
of the door.

She would not have skipped had there not been
visitors. And Boris Andreitch walked over to
Polinka.

" If this is the Larin family,"— he thought,
-" must not she be Tatyana? "

And he stepped up to Polinka, who was watch-
ing his movements not without apprehension.

' You played your sister's accompaniments
charmingly,"— he began;—" charmingly! "

Polinka made no reply, but merely blushed
to her very ears.

" I am very sorry that I did not succeed in
hearing your duet. . . . From what opera is it? "

Polinka's eyes roved uneasily.
293

THE TWO FRIENDS

Vyazovnin waited for her answer; no answer
came.

" What sort of music do you like best? " — he
asked, after waiting a while;—" Italian or Ger-
man? "

Polinka dropped her eyes.

"Pelagic, reponde-donc"— resounded Pela-
geya Ivanovna's agitated whisper.

" All sorts,"— hastily replied Polinka.1

"But how can you like all sorts best?"— re-
plied Boris Andreitch. " It is difficult to assume
that. For instance, there is Beethoven,— a ge-
nius of the first magnitude, and yet he is not ap-
preciated by every one."

" No, sir,"— replied Polinka.

" Art is varied, of course," — pursued the ruth-
less Boris Andreitch.

' Yes, sir," — replied Polinka.

The conversation between them did not last
long.

" No,"— thought Boris Andreitch as he beat a
retreat from her,— " she 's no Tatyana! she is
simply trepidation personified. ..."

And poor Polinka, as she got into bed that
night, complained, with tears, to her maid how
the visitor that day had worried her about music,
and how she had not known what replies to make
to him, and how unhappy she was when visitors

1 Polinka, or Pauline, is the favourite familiar form of Pelageya (pro-
nounced Pelagaya); — French Pelagic.— TRANSLATOR.

294

THE TWO FRIENDS

came: mamma did nothing but scold afterward
—and that 's all the satisfaction she got out of
it. ...

At dinner Boris Andreitch sat between Kali-
mon Ivanitch and Emerentziya. The dinner was
Russian, not fanciful, but nutritious, and much
better adapted to the taste of Piotr Vasilitch than
the artfully-concocted viands of the widow.
Beside him sat Polinka, and, having at last con-
quered her timidity, she did, at least, answer his
questions. On the other hand, Emerentziya en-
tertained her neighbour so assiduously, that at
last it became more than he could bear. She had
a habit of bending her head to the right, as she
lifted a morsel of food to her mouth on the left
—as though she were playing with it; and Boris
Andreitch took an intense dislike to this trick.
Neither did he like the way she had of talking
incessantly about herself, of confiding to him with
emotion the most minute details of her life;—
but, being a polite man, he did not in the least be-
tray his sentiments, so that Piotr Vasilitch, who
was watching him across the table, could not tell
what sort of an impression Emerentziya was
making on him.

After dinner Kalimon Ivanitch suddenly sank
into meditation, or, to speak more plainly, grew
slightly drowsy ; he was accustomed to take a nap
at that hour, and although, on observing that the
visitors were preparing to take leave, he re-

295

THE TWO FRIENDS

marked several times : " But why, gentlemen,
why? Won't you play a game of cards ?" . . . .
yet in his secret soul he was well pleased when he
saw that, at last, they had taken their caps in
their hands. Pelageya Ivanovna, on the contrary,
immediately grew animated, and tried, with par-
ticular insistence, to detain the visitors. Eme-
rentziya zealously seconded her efforts, and tried
in every way to prevail upon them to remain;

even Polinka said to them: "Mais ..Messieurs "

Piotr Vasilitch replied neither " yes " nor " no,"
but kept glancing at his companion. Boris An-
dreitch, on the other hand, courteously but firmly
insisted that it was indispensable that they should
return home. In a word, matters proceeded as
they had at the parting with Sofya Kirillovna.
After having promised to repeat their visit before
long, the guests finally departed; Emerentziya's
cordial glances accompanied them clear to the
dining-room, while Kalimon Ivanitch even went
as far as the anteroom and, after watching Boris
Andreitch's alert servant wrap up his master in
his fur coat, tie a scarf round his neck, and pull
his warm boots on his feet, he returned to his
study and immediately fell asleep, while Polinka,
who had been reduced to a state of shamed con-
fusion by her mother, went off to her own room
up-stairs, and the two speechless female persons,
one in a mob-cap and the other with a handker-
chief on her head, congratulated Emerentziya on
her new conquest.

296

THE TWO FRIENDS

The friends drove on in silence. Boris Andre-
itch smiled to himself, screened as he was from
Piotr Vasilitch by the raccoon collar of his fur
coat, which was turned up, and waited to hear
what he would say.

"Again, she is n't the right thing!"— ex-
claimed Piotr Vasilitch.

But this time a certain indecision was discern-
ible in his voice, and striving to get a look at
Boris Andreitch over the collar of his coat, he
added in an inquiring tone :

" That 's true, is n't it— that she is n't the right
thing? "

" She is n't,"— replied Boris Andreitch with a
laugh.

" So I thought,"— replied Piotr Vasilitch, and
after a pause, he added:— "But, after all, why
is n't she the right thing ? What is it that young
girl lacks? "

" She lacks nothing. On the contrary, she has
too much of everything. ..."

" Precisely what do you mean by ' too much ' ? "

" Why, just that."

" Excuse me, Boris Andreitch, I don't under-
stand you. If you are talking about education,
is that any objection? And as for character, be-
haviour . . . ."

" Ekh, Piotr Vasilitch,"— returned Boris An-
dreitch:— "I 'm surprised that you, with your
clear view of things, do not see through that lisp-
ing Emerentziya! That simulated amiability,

297

THE TWO FRIENDS

that constant self -adoration, that modest confi-
dence in her own merits, that condescension of an
angel gazing down on you from the heights of
heaven .... but what 's the use of talking! If
it comes to that, and in case it is absolutely in-
dispensable, I would twenty times rather marry
her sister; she knows how to hold her tongue, at
least!"

" You are right, of course,"— replied poor
Piotr Vasilitch in a low voice.

Boris Andreitch's sudden sally had dum-
f ounded him.

" No,"— he said to himself, and he said it for
the first time since he had made Vyazovnm's ac-
quaintance:— " I 'm no match for him . . . .
he 's too learned."

And Vyazovnin on his side was thinking, as
he gazed at the moon, which hung low over the
white streak of the horizon: " And it really was
like a bit out of ' Onyegin ' : . . .

Round and red of face was she ....

—but my Lensky is fine, and I 'm a pretty
Onyegin!"

" Faster, drive faster, Lariushka! "—he added
aloud.

" She won't do,"— jestingly inquired Boris
Andreitch of Piotr Vasilitch, as he alighted from
the sledge, with the aid of his footman, and

298

THE TWO FRIENDS

mounted the porch of his own house,— "hey,
Piotr Vasilitch? "

But Piotr Vasilitch made no answer and went
off to pass the night at his own house. And
Emerentziya, on the following day, wrote to her
friend (she kept up a vast and lively correspon-
dence) : " Yesterday we had a new visitor, our
neighbour Vyazovnin. He is a very nice, amiable
man; it is immediately apparent that he is well-
bred, and— shall I whisper a secret in thine ear?
—I have an idea that I have made a pretty deep
impression on him. But do not worry, mon amie;
my heart has not been touched, and Valentine
has no occasion to feel uneasy."

This Valentine was a teacher in the govern-
mental gymnasium. In town he led a dissipated
life, and in the country he sighed for Emeren-
tziya with platonic and hopeless love. *

The friends again met together on the follow-
ing morning, and their life flowed on as before.

A fortnight elapsed. Boris Andreitch was in
daily expectation of an invitation; but Piotr Va-
silitch had, apparently, utterly renounced his
intentions. Boris Andreitch himself began to
talk about the widow and the Tikhodueffs, and
dropped hints to the effect that everything should
be subjected to three tests; but Piotr Vasilitch
did not even appear to understand his hints. At
last Boris Andreitch could endure it no longer,
and one day he began thus:

299

THE TWO FRIENDS

:c What 's the meaning of this, Piotr Vasilitch?
Evidently, it is now my turn to remind you of
your promises."

"What promises?"

:< Why, don't you remember, you wanted to get
me married? I 'm waiting."

Piotr Vasilitch fidgeted on his chair.

:< Why, you 're so fastidious, you know! One
can't suit you. God knows what you want! I
don't believe there is a bride to your taste in these
parts."

" That 's bad, Piotr Vasilitch. You ought not
to despair so soon. You have not made a success
of the first two trials, but that 's no calamity.
Moreover, the widow did please me. If you give
me up, I shall betake myself to her."

" All right, go along,— God bless you."

" Piotr Vasilitch, I assure you that, without
jesting, I want to get married. Do take me
somewhere else."

:< Why, really, there is no one else in all the
countryside."

"That cannot be, Piotr Vasilitch. Do you
mean to say that here, in this whole neighbour-
hood, there is not a single pretty woman? "

" Of course there is ! but they are no mates for
you."

" But do name one of them."

Piotr Vasilitch gripped the amber mouthpiece
of his tchubuk with his teeth.

300

THE TWO FRIENDS

" Why, there 's Vyerotchka BarsukofF, for in-
stance,"—he said at last;— "what better do you
want? Only, she 's not for you."

" Why? "

" Too" simple."

" So much the better, Piotr Vasilitch, so much
the better!"

" And her father is such an eccentric."

' That 's no misfortune. . . . Piotr Vasilitch,
my friend, do introduce me to that .... what
the deuce is her name did you say? "

" BarsukofF."

" To Miss BarsukofF .... please do. . . ."

And Boris Andreitch gave Piotr Vasilitch no
peace until the latter promised to take him to the
BarsukofFs'.

Two days later they drove to call on them.

The BarsukofF family consisted of two per-
sons: the father, aged fifty, and the daughter,
aged nineteen years. It was not without cause
that Piotr Vasilitch had called the father an ec-
centric; he really was an eccentric of the first
water. After completing his course of study
in a government institute in brilliant style, he
had entered the naval service, and speedily at-
tracted the attention of the superior officers, but
had soon retired, married, settled down in the
country, and had gradually grown so indolent
and so relaxed that, at last, he not only went
nowhere— he did not even come out of his room.

301

THE TWO FRIENDS

Clad in a short coat lined with hare-fur, and in
heelless slippers, with his hands thrust into the
pockets of his full trousers, he paced back and
forth, for days at a time, from one corner to an-
other, now humming a tune, now whistling, and
no matter what was said to him, he replied, with
a smile, to everything, " Brau, brau! " —that is to
say, " Bravo, bravo!"

" Do you know what, Stepan Petrovitch,"— a
neighbour who had dropped in to call said to him,
—and the neighbours visited him with pleasure,
because there was no more hospitable and cordial
man in the world than he,— " do you know what?
They say that in Byelyovo the price of grain has
risen to thirty rubles in paper money."

"Brau, brau! "—calmly replied BarsukofF,
who had just sold his for seven and a half.

" And have you heard that your neighbour,
Pavel Fomitch, has gambled away thirty thou-
sand at cards? "

" Brau, brau! " —replied BarsukofF, with equal
composure.

" The cattle-murrain is in Shlykovo,"— re-
marked another neighbour who was sitting by.

"Brau, brau!"

" Lapin's young lady has eloped with the tu-
tor. . . ."

" Brau, brau, brau! "

And so on, without end. He was informed
that one of his horses had gone lame, that a Jew

302

THE TWO FRIENDS

had arrived with his wares, that the clock had
fallen off the wall, that a small boy had flung his
hoots away somewhere— and all that was to he
got out of him was: " Brau, brau! " And, never-
theless, no unusual amount of disorder was no-
ticeable in his house: his peasants prospered, and
he contracted no debts. Barsukoff's exterior
made a favourable impression; his round face,
with large brown eyes, a thin, regularly-formed
nose, and red lips, surprised one by its almost
youthful freshness. This freshness was thrown
into all the more striking relief by the snowy
whiteness of his hair. A faint smile hovered con-
stantly over his lips, and yet not so much over his
lips as over the dimples in his cheeks; he never
laughed, but sometimes, very rarely, uttered a
hysterical guffaw, and felt ill afterward, on
every occasion. He said very little outside of his
habitual exclamation, and only the most indis-
pensable things, sticking, moreover, to the ut-
most possible abbreviations.

His daughter, Vyerotchka, resembled him
greatly, both in face arid in the expression of her
dark eyes, which seemed still darker because of
the tender hue of her blond hair, and her smile.
She was small of stature, and prettily formed;
there was nothing particularly attractive about
her, but it was sufficient for one to cast a glance
at her, or to hear her voice, to make him say to
himself: " That 's a kind-hearted being." The

303

THE TWO FRIENDS

father and daughter loved each other. The entire
management of the housekeeping was in her
hands, and she liked to busy herself with it ....
she knew no other occupations. Not without rea-
son had Piotr Vasilitch called her simple.

When Piotr Vasilitch and Boris Andreitch ar-
rived at BarsukofF's house, he was pacing to and
fro in his study, according to his wont. This
study, which might also be called the drawing-
room and the dining-room, because visitors were
received in it, and the table was set in it, took
up about one half of Stepan Petrovitch's small
house. The furniture in it was ugly but com-
fortable; a remarkably broad, soft divan, with a
great multitude of cushions, stretched the whole
length of one wall, — a divan which was well
known to all the landed proprietors of the neigh-
bourhood. Truth to tell, it was a very comfort-
able divan to lie upon. In the remaining rooms
there were only chairs, and a few little tables, and
cupboards; all these rooms opened into one an-
other, and no one lived in them. Vyerotchka's
little bedroom opened on the garden, and in addi-
tion to her neat little bed, her wash-stand with
mirror attached, and one arm-chair, contained no
furniture whatever ; to counterbalance this, every-
where in the corners stood bottles filled with fruit-
liqueurs, and jars of preserves, all labelled by
Vyerotchka's own hand.

On entering the anteroom, Piotr Vasilitch was
304

THE TWO FRIENDS

on the point of ordering that he and Boris Andre-
itch should be announced, but a small boy in a
long-tailed coat, who happened to be there,
merely glanced at him and began to remove his
fur coat, with the remark: "Pray, enter, sir."
The friends entered Stepan Petrovitch's study.
Piotr Vasilitch presented Boris Andreitch to him.

Stepan Petrovitch shook hands with him and

said: " I 'm glad very. You must be chilled

through. . . . Vodka?" And indicating with a
movement of his head the appetising viands which
stood on a small table, he began again to pace
the room.

Boris Andreitch drank a glass of vodka, Piotr
Vasilitch followed his example, and both seated
themselves on the broad divan with its multitude
of cushions. Boris Andreitch immediately felt
as though he had been sitting all his life on that
divan, and had been acquainted with the master
of the house for a very long time. That was
precisely the feeling which all Barsukoff s visitors
experienced.

He was not alone that day; but then, he was
rarely to be found alone. Some pettifogger or
other was sitting with him, a man with a wrinkled,
senile face, a hawk-like nose, and uneasy eyes,
a completely threadbare being, who had recently
been serving in a warm little post, and at the pres-
ent moment found himself under indictment.
Clutching his stock with one hand, and the front

305

THE TWO FRIENDS

of his frock-coat with the other, this gentleman
was following Stepan Petrovitch with his gaze,
and having waited until the visitors had seated
themselves, he said with a deep sigh:

" Ekh, Stepan Petrovitch, Stepan Petrovitch!
't is easy to condemn a man; but you know the
proverb : ' The honest man 's a sinner, the rascal 's
a sinner, all men live by sin, so why should not we
also?'"

" Brau . . . ." Stepan Petrovitch was begin-
ning, but stopped short, and said: " 't is a bad
proverb/'

:< Who says it is n't? Of course it 's bad,"-
returned the threadbare gentleman;— " but what
would you have one do! Misery is more than a
match for you, you know: it drives honesty out
of you. Here now, I 'm willing to leave it to
these nobly-born gentlemen, if they will only
deign to listen to the details of my affair. ..."

"May we smoke? "—Boris Andreitch asked
the host.

The host nodded his head.

" Of course," — pursued the gentleman:—
" and perhaps I also have been vexed at myself
and at the world in general, — have felt, so to
speak, righteous indignation. . . ."

"Invented by scoundrels," — Stepan Petro-
vitch interrupted him.

The gentleman gave a start.

:< Precisely what do you mean by that, Stepan
306

THE TWO FRIENDS

Petrovitch? Do you mean to say that righteous
indignation was invented by scoundrels?"

Stepan Petrovitch nodded his head again.

The gentleman held his peace for a while, and
then suddenly burst into a cracked laugh, which
revealed the fact that he had not a single tooth
left; yet he spoke quite clearly.

" He, he, Stepan Petrovitch, you are always
saying such odd things! Our lawyer says of
you, not without reason, that you are a regular
punster."

" Brau, brau! "—responded Barsukoff.

At that moment the door opened, and Vye-
rotchka entered. Advancing with firm, light
steps, she bore two cups of coffee and a cream-
jug on a green tray. Her simple dark-grey
gown fitted her slender form beautifully. Boris
Andreitch and Piotr Vasilitch both rose from the
divan ; she made them a curtsey in response, with-
out letting go of the tray, and stepping up to the
table, she deposited her burden on it, with the re-
mark:

" Here is some coffee for you."

" Brau,"— commented her father.- ' Two
more,"— he added, pointing at the guests.—
" Boris Andreitch, my daughter."

Boris Andreitch made her a second obeisance.

" Would you like some coffee? "—she inquired,
looking him directly and calmly in the eye.—
" It is still an hour and a half to dinner-time."

307

THE TWO FRIENDS

" With great pleasure,"— replied Boris An-
dreitch.

Vyerotchka turned to Krupitzyn.

" And you, Piotr Vasilitch? "

" I will drink some also."

" You shall have it directly. I have not seen
you for a long time, Piotr Vasilitch."

So saying, Vyerotchka left the room.

Boris Andreitch gazed after her and, bending
over to his friend, he whispered in his ear:

" But she is very charming. . . . And what
easy manners. . . ."

" Habit,"— replied Piotr Vasilitch:-" they
almost keep an eating-house here, you know.
When one person goes out of the door, another
comes in."

As though in confirmation of Piotr Vasilitch 's
words, a new visitor entered the room. He was
an extremely voluminous man, or, to use an old-
fashioned word which still persists in our region,
roly-poly, with a big face, big eyes and lips, and
tousled hair. An expression of constant dissatis-
faction was perceptible on his face— a sour ex-
pression. He was dressed in very capacious gar-
ments, and lurched from side to side with his
whole body as he walked. He dropped heavily
on the divan, and only then said: " Good morn-
ing," but without addressing himself to any one
of those present.

" Vodka? "— Stepan Petrovitch asked him.
308

THE TWO FRIENDS

"No! vodka forsooth! "—replied the new
guest;— " I 'm in no mood for vodka. How are
you, Piotr Vasilitch? " he added, glancing round.

" How are you, Mikhei Mikheitch,"— replied
Piotr Vasilitch.—" Whence has God brought
you?"

" Whence? From town, of course. 'T is only
you lucky dogs who don't have any occasion to
go to town, you know. But I, thanks to Court
of Guardianship, and to these little masters here,"
—he added, thrusting out his finger in the direc-
tion of the gentleman under indictment,— " I
have driven all my horses to death running to
town. Damn it all! "

" Mikhei Mikheitch, my deepest respects to
you,"— said the gentleman who had been so un-
ceremoniously designated as little master.

Mikhei Mikheitch glanced at him.

" Tell me one thing, please,"— he began, fold-
ing his arms : — " when are they finally going to
hang thee? "

The other man took offence.

" Well, they ought to do it! By heaven, they
ought to! The Government is too lenient to fel-
lows of your stamp— that 's what! I suppose
thou art melancholy because thou art under
indictment? That 's nothing at all! Only
one thing is vexatious, I fancy; thou canst
not now—haben sie gewesen" -and Mikhei
Mikheitch stuck out his hand, as though he

309

THE TWO FRIENDS

were catching something in the air, and then
thrust it into his side-pocket. — " Ridiculous !
Ekh you, disgusting little race, both big and
small!"

" It pleases you always to jest,"— replied the
dismissed pettifogger;— " but you will not take
into consideration that the giver is free to give,
and the receiver to receive. Moreover, I did not
act on my own initiative in that case, and more
than one person took a hand in it, as I have ex-
plained. . . ."

" Of course," — remarked Mikhei Mikheitch
ironically. " The fox took refuge under the har-
row from the rain— not every drop will land on
him anyway. But confess, our chief of police
rebuked thee fiercely, did n't he? Hey? 'T was
severe, was n't it? "

The man writhed.

" He 's a lively hand at training a man down,"
— he said at last, hesitatingly.

"Exactly so!"

" And nevertheless, one may say of him,
sir ... ."

:' That he 's a man of gold, a genuine treasure,"
—Mikhei Mikheitch interrupted him, turning
to Stepan Petrovitch. — " He 's a regular giant
at handling such fine young fellows as this, and
drunkards! "

" Brau, brau! " —responded Stepan Petro-
vitch.

310

THE TWO FRIENDS

Vyerotchka entered with two more cups of
coffee on a tray.

Mikhei Mikheitch made his bow to her.

" One more,"— said her father.

;< Why do you give yourself the trouble? "—
Boris Andreitch said to her, as he took his cup
from her.

"It is no trouble!"— replied Vyerotchka,—
" and I do not care to entrust it to the butler; it
seems to me that it will be more savoury thus."

" Of course, from your hands."

But Vyerotchka did not listen to his amiable
remarks to the end, but went out, returning im-
mediately with coffee for Mikhei Mikheitch.

" And have you heard,"— began Mikhei Mi-
kheitch, as he drained his cup;— "Marya Ili-
nitchna is lying speechless, you know."

Stepan Petrovitch halted, and raised his head.

" Certainly, certainly,"— went on Mikhei Mi-
kheitch.— ' 'T is paralysis. You know, of course,
how fond she was of eating. So, day before yes-
terday, she was sitting at table, and she had
guests. . . . Botvinya l was served, and she had

1 A soup whose foundation consists of a sort of sour small beer,
brewed from sour cabbage, or from rye flour (or the crusts of sour rye
bread), thickened with strained spinach, tiny cubes of raw cucumber,
and minced spring1 onions. A lump of ice is placed in the tureen.
On a separate dish the adjuncts are served, and each person adds them
to the above according to his taste. They consist of some sort of cold,
boiled fish, cucumbers, onions, horse-radish, crawfish,— anything else
which is convenient and savoury,— and sugar. When well made, it is
delicious. —TRANSLATOR.

311

THE TWO FRIENDS

already eaten two platefuls, and was asking for
a third .... when all of a sudden she glanced
round, and said this way, deliberately, you know :
* Take away the botvinya, all the people are sit-
ting there green ' . . . and flop she went off her
chair! They rushed to lift her, they asked what
ailed her? . . . She explained by motions of her
hands, but her tongue was no longer working.
They say that our county medical man distin-
guished himself on that occasion, to boot. . . He
sprang to his feet, and shouted : ' The doctor !
send for the doctor!'— He lost his head com-
pletely. Well, and what practice does he have
anyway? He gets his whole living from dead
bodies."

" Brau, brau ! " articulated Barsukoff ,
thoughtfully.

" And we are going to have botvinya to-day
too,"— remarked Vyerotchka, as she sat down on
the edge of a chair in one corner.

:< With what? Sturgeon? " —briskly inquired
Mikhei Mikheitch.

'' With fresh sturgeon and dried sturgeon's
back."

" That 's fine! Here now, they say that bot-
vinya is not good in winter, because it is a cold
dish. That 's nonsense .... is n't it, Piotr
Vasilitch? "

"Perfect nonsense,"— replied Piotr Vasilitch;

" is n't it pretty warm here indoors? "

" Very warm."

312

THE TWO FRIENDS

' Then why should n't one eat a cold dish in a
hot room? I don't understand."

" And I don't understand."

In this manner did the conversation run on for
quite a long time. The host took hardly any
part in it, and kept striding about the room. At
dinner, all ate with splendid appetite, so ex-
quisitely, though simply, was the food prepared.
Vyerotchka sat at the head of the table, served
the botvinya, sent the dishes round, watched how
the guests ate, and tried to anticipate their wants.
Vyazovnm sat beside her and gazed attentively
at her. Vyerotchka could not speak without
smiling, like her father, and it was very becom-
ing to her. Vyazovnm put a question to her now
and then,— not for the purpose of receiving an-
swers from her, but with the express object of
seeing that smile.

After dinner, Mikhei Mikheitch, Piotr Vasi-
litch, and the gentleman who was under indict-
ment, whose real name was Onufry flitch, sat
down to play cards. Mikhei Mikheitch no longer
expressed himself so harshly concerning him, al-
though he continued to jeer at him; possibly this
arose from the fact that Mikhei Mikheitch had
drunk a glass too much at dinner. To tell the
truth, at every deal he announced in advance
that Onufry would hold all the aces and trumps,
that that small fry 1 always stacked the cards to

1 Literally, "nettle-seed," a term of contempt applied to petty
under-clerks. —TRANSLATOR.

313

THE TWO FRIENDS

cheat, that he had thievish hands anyway; but,
on the other hand, after having made a small slam
with him, Mikhei Mikheitch began quite unex-
pectedly to praise him.

:c Well, say what thou wilt, thou art utter rub-
bish,"— he said to him: — "but I love thee, by
heaven I do ! Because, in the first place, it is my
nature to, and in the second place, when one
comes to think it over, there are worse folks than
thou, and I may even say that thou art a decent
man, in thy way."

' You have deigned to speak the truth, Mi-
khei Mikheitch," — replied Oniifry Hitch, greatly
encouraged by such words:— "the most down-
right truth; only, of course, if it were n't for
persecution . . . ."

" Come, deal, deal,"— Mikhei Mikheitch inter-
rupted him;— " persecution, forsooth! What per-
secution? ! Thou mayest thank God that thou
art not sitting chained in PugatchofF's tower at
this moment. . . . Deal."

And Onufry Ilitch began to deal the cards,
briskly blinking his little eyes, and still more
briskly moistening the thumb of his right hand
with his long, thin tongue.

In the meanwhile, Stepan Petrovitch stalked
about the room, while Boris Andreitch kept close
to Vyera. The conversation between them pro-
ceeded by fits and starts (she was constantly
leaving the room) , and was so insignificant that

314

THE TWO FRIENDS

it would be difficult to reproduce it. He ques-
tioned her as to what people dwelt in their neigh-
bourhood, whether she often made visits, whe-
ther she was fond of housekeeping? To the
question, as to what she read, she replied: "I
should like to read, but I have no time." And
yet, when at nightfall the small boy entered the
study with the announcement that their horses
were ready, he felt sorry to leave, sorry to cease
seeing those kind eyes, that bright smile. If
Stepan Petrovitch had taken it into his head
to detain him, he certainly would have remained ;
but Stepan Petrovitch did nothing of the sort,
—not because he was not pleased with his new
guest, but because this was the established order
of things in his house : if any one wished to spend
the night, that person himself gave orders
straight out that a bed should be prepared for him.
Mikhei Mikheitch and Omifry flitch did this;
they even went to bed in the same chamber, and
chatted until long after midnight; their voices
were dully audible from the study; Omifry Hitch
was the principal talker, and appeared to be nar-
rating something, while his interlocutor merely
ejaculated from time to time, now with surprise,
again with approbation: "H'm!" On the fol-
lowing morning they drove away together to
Mikhei Mikheitch's village, and thence to the
town, still together.

On the way home both Piotr Vasilitch and
315

THE TWO FRIENDS

Boris Andreitch maintained silence for a long

time. Piotr Vasilitch even dozed, lulled by the

jingling of the bells, and the smooth motion of

the sledge.

"Piotr Vasilitch!"— said Boris Andreitch at

last.

"What? "-said Piotr Vasilitch, only half

awake.

' Why don't you interrogate me? "
" What should I interrogate you about? "
:f Why, as you did those other times — why

not? "

About Vyerotchka, you mean? "

c<

" Yes."

:c There you go ! As if I destined her for you !
She 's not suited to you."

" You 're mistaken in thinking so. She pleases
me a great deal more than all your Emeren-
tziyas and Sofya Kirillovnas! "

"You don't mean it?"

" I do, I tell you."

:( Why, good gracious!— she 's a perfectly
simple young girl. She may be a good house-
wife,—that 's a fact; but is that what you require,
pray? "

" And why not? Perhaps that is precisely
what I am in search of."

" But what are you saying, Boris Andreitch?
Good heavens! why, she can't talk French at
all!"

316

THE TWO FRIENDS

" What of that? Can't one get along without
the French language? "

Piotr Vasilitch made no reply for a while.

" I did n't in the least expect this .... from
you, that is to say .... it seems to me that you
are jesting."

" No, I 'm not jesting."

" God knows what to make of you after this!
Why, I thought that she was only a mate for a
fellow like me. However, she 's really quite a
nice little lass."

And Piotr Vasilitch adjusted his cap, huried
his head in a cushion, and went to sleep. Boris
Andreitch continued to think of Vyerotchka. He
still seemed to see her smile, the merry gentle-
ness of her eyes. The night was bright and cold,
the snow gleamed with bluish fires, like diamonds ;
the stars were shining and the Pleiades were
twinkling brilliantly; the frost crackled and
creaked under the sledge-runners ; the branches of
the trees, covered with icy rime, tinkled faintly,
as they glistened in the moonlight, as though
made of glass. At such times the imagination
plays freely. Vyazovnm experienced this in his
own case. He thought of all sorts of things,
until the sledge drew up, at last, at his porch;
but the image of Vyerotchka would not get out
of his head, and secretly accompanied his rev-
eries.

Piotr Vasilitch, as we have already said, was

317

THE TWO FRIENDS

astonished at the impression which Vyerotchka
had made on Boris Andreitch; but he was still
more astonished when, a couple of days later,
that same Boris Andreitch announced to him that
he was bent upon driving to see Barsukoff, and
that he would go alone if Piotr Vasilitch were not
disposed to accompany him. Piotr Vasilitch, of
course, replied that he should be delighted, and
was ready, and again the friends drove to Bar-
sukoff s house, and again spent the whole day
there. As on the first occasion, they found sev-
eral visitors with him, whom Vyerotchka also re-
galed with coffee, and after dinner with pre-
serves ; but Vyazovnin talked more with her than
on the first occasion— that is, he said more to her.
He told her about his past life, about Petersburg,
about his travels, — in a word, about everything
which came into his head. She listened to him
with calm interest, smiling every now and then,
but not for a single moment forgetting her duties
as hostess: she rose on the instant, as soon as
she perceived that the guests needed anything,
and she herself brought everything to them.
When she withdrew, Vyazovnin did not leave his
place, and gazed peacefully about him; she re-
turned, seated herself by his side, took up her
work, and again he entered into conversation
with her. Stepan Petrovitch approached them
in the course of his wanderings about the room,
listened to Vyazovnin's remarks, muttered:

318

THE TWO FRIENDS

"brau, brau!"— and so the time fairly flew by.
.... On this occasion Vyazovnin and Piotr
Vasilitch remained over night, and did not depart
until the evening of the following day. ... As
he took his leave, Vyazovnin shook Vyera's hand.
She flushed faintly. No man had ever shaken
hands with her before that day, but she thought,
evidently, this was the established custom in
Petersburg.

The two friends began to make frequent visits
to Stepan Petrovitch; Boris Andreitch, in par-
ticular, made himself quite at home in the house.
There were times when he felt irresistibly drawn
thither, when he fairly longed to go. Several
times he even went alone. Vyerotchka pleased
him more and more, and a friendship was
established between them, and he was already
beginning to think that she was too cold and
sensible a friend. Piotr Vasilitch ceased to
talk to him about Vyerotchka. . . But lo,
one morning, after staring at him, according
to his habit, for some time in silence, he said
meaningly :

"Boris Andreitch!"

" What? "—returned Boris Andreitch, and
flushed slightly, without himself knowing why.

" I want to say something to you, Boris Andre-
itch. . . . You 'd better look out .... you
know . . . . 't will be a bad business if, for ex-
ample, anything . . . ."

319

THE TWO FRIENDS

"What are you trying to say? "—retorted
Boris Andreitch.— " I don't understand you."

" Why, about Vyerotchka. . . ."

"About Vyerotchka?"

And Boris Andreitch blushed worse than be-
fore.

' Yes. Look out, for 't is easy to bring about
a catastrophe .... to insult her, that is ....
Excuse my frankness ; but I consider it my duty
as a friend. ..."

" But what put that into your head, Piotr Vasi-
litch? "—Boris Andreitch interrupted him.—
:< Vyerotchka is a girl of the strictest principles,
and, in conclusion, there is nothing between us
but the most ordinary friendship."

" Come, enough of that, Boris Andreitch! "
interposed Piotr Vasilitch in his turn.— :< What
sort of friendship can there be between you, a
cultured man, and a country girl who except the
four walls of her home . . . ."

' There you go again with the same old cry ! "
—Boris Andreitch interrupted him again.—
" Why you mix culture up in the matter, is more
than I can understand."

Boris Andreitch was somewhat angry.

" Come, do listen to me, Boris Andreitch," -
said Piotr Vasilitch, impatiently:— " if it has
come to such a pass, I am bound to tell you that
you have a perfect right to keep secrets from me,
but as for deceiving me, excuse me, but you can-

320

THE TWO FRIENDS

not do it. For I have eyes as well as you, you
see. Yesterday " (they had both been at Stepan
Petrovitch's on the day before) " revealed a great
deal to me. . . ."

" And what, in particular, did it reveal to
you? "—inquired Boris Andreitch.

:' Why, it revealed to me the fact that you are
in love with her, and jealous of her."

Vyazovnin stared at Piotr Vasilitch.

:' Well, and does she love me? "

1 That I cannot say for certain; but it would
be strange if she did not fall in love with you."

" Because I am well-educated, you mean to
say."

" For that reason, and also because you have a
fine estate. Well, and your personal appear-
ance might please also. But your property is the
principal thing."

Vyazovnin rose and walked to the window.

" How could you notice that I was jealous? "
-he asked, suddenly turning toward Piotr Vasi-
litch.

" Because you were utterly unlike yourself
yesterday, until that oaf Karantyeif took his de-
parture."

Vyazovnin made no reply, but he felt in his
soul that his friend was speaking the truth. This
Karantyeif was a student who had not completed
his course, a merry and far from stupid young
fellow, with soul, but who had been led utterly

321

THE TWO FRIENDS

astray and had gone to destruction. Passions
had exhausted his powers in early youth; he had
been left without guardianship too early. He
had an audacious gipsy face, and altogether he
resembled a gipsy; he sang and danced like a
gipsy. He fell in love with all women. Vye-
rotchka pleased him greatly. Boris Andreitch
made his acquaintance at Barsukoff 's, and at first
entertained a very friendly feeling toward him;
but noticing one day the peculiar expression of
countenance wherewith Vyerotchka was listening
to his songs, he began to think differently about
him.

"Piotr Vasilitch,"— said Boris Andreitch, step-
ping up to his friend, and coming to a halt in
front of him,—" I must confess .... that it
seems to me you are right. I have felt so this long
time, but you have definitively opened my eyes
for me. I really am not indifferent to Vye-
rotchka; but hearken, Piotr Vasilitch, what does
that amount to? Neither she nor I desire any-
thing dishonourable; moreover, I have told you,
I believe, that I see no particular signs of affec-
tion for me on her side."

" All that is so,"— returned Piotr Vasilitch, -
" but the Evil One is strong."

Boris Andreitch made no reply for a while.

"What am I to do, Piotr Vasilitch?"

" What? Stop going there."

" Do you think so? "

322

THE TWO FRIENDS

" Of course. . . . You can't marry her! "

Again Vyazovnin held his peace for a space.

" And why should n't I marry her? "—he ex-
claimed at last.

" I have already told you why, Boris Andre-
itch; she 's no mate for you."

" I don't see that."

" If you don't see it, do as you like. I 'm not
your guardian."

And Piotr Vasilitch began to stuff his pipe
with tobacco.

Boris Andreitch sat down by the window, and
became engrossed in meditation.

Piotr Vasilitch did not interfere with him and
continued with the utmost composure to emit
tiny clouds of smoke from his mouth. At last
Boris Andreitch rose, and with visible agitation
ordered the horses to be harnessed.

" Whither away? "—Piotr Vasilitch asked him.

" To the Barsukoffs' "-replied Boris Andre-
itch.

Piotr Vasilitch took five puffs.

" Do you want me to go with you? "

" No, Piotr Vasilitch; I should like to go alone
to-day. I want to have an explanation with
Vyerotchka."

" As you please."

" There now,"— he said to himself, after he
had seen Boris Andreitch off,— " things seem to
be coming to a head. . . But he always was a

323

THE TWO FRIENDS

lucky dog,"— he added, as he stretched himself
out on the divan.

On the evening of that same day, as Piotr Va-
silitch, without waiting for his friend, was pre-
paring to get into bed in his own house, Boris
Andreitch, all powdered with snow, suddenly
burst into the room, and flung himself on his
neck.

" My friend, Piotr Vasilitch, congratulate
me! "—he cried, for the first time addressing him
as thou; — " she consents, and so does the old man.
. . . Everything is already settled! "

;< What .... do you mean? " — mumbled the
astonished Piotr Vasilitch.

" I am going to be married! "

" To Vyerotchka? "

6 Yes. . . . Everything is already decided and
arranged."

" Can it be? "

;< What a man thou art! ... everything is set-
tled, I tell thee."

Piotr Vasilitch hastily put his slippers on his
bare feet, threw on his dressing-gown, and
shouted :

" Makedoniya, tea! "-adding:-" Well, if
everything is already settled, there 's no use in
discussing it; may God grant you concord and
counsel! But, tell me, please, how this has come
about."

It is worth noting that from that moment the
324

THE TWO FRIENDS

two friends began to address each other as thou
just as though they had never done anything
else.

" Certainly, with pleasure,"— replied Vyazov-
nin, and began his narration.

As a matter of fact, this is what had taken
place.

When Boris Andreitch had reached Stepan
Petrovitch's, the latter had not a single visitor
with him, contrary to his custom, and he him-
self was not stalking about the room, but was
sitting in a Voltaire chair: he was not feeling
well. He ceased speaking altogether, when
he was in that condition, and consequently
nodded his head amicably to Vyazovnin as he
entered, pointed out to him first the table with
the cold luncheon, then Vyerotchka, and closed
his eyes. That was all Vyazovnin required;
he seated himself beside Vyerotchka, and
entered into a low-voiced conversation with
her. They discussed the health of Stepan Petro-
vitch.

" I am always frightened,"— said Vyerotchka,
in a whisper,—" when he is ill. He 's so odd, you
know; he never complains, he never asks for any-
thing; you can't get a word out of him. If he
is ill, he will not say so."

" And do you love him very much? " -Vyazov-
nin asked her.

"Who? Papa? Yes, more than any one in the

325

THE TWO FRIENDS

world. God forbid that anything should hap-
pen to him! I think I should die! "

" That means that it would be impossible for
you to part from him? "

"Part from him? Why should I?"

Boris Andreitch looked her full in the face.

" A young girl cannot live all her life in her
father's house."

" Ah ! So that is what you mean. . . . Well,
I am at ease on that score. . . . Who will take
me?"

"I!" Boris Andreitch came near saying, but
restrained himself.

:< What makes you thoughtful? "—she asked,
looking at him with her wonted smile.

" I am thinking,"— he replied,— " I am think-
ing .... that . . . ." And suddenly chang-
ing his tone, he asked her whether she had known
Karantyeff long.

" Really, I don't remember. ... So many of
them come to see papa, you know. I think he
called on us last year for the first time."

" Tell me; do you like him? "

" No,"— replied Vyerotchka, after reflecting
a while.

"Why?"

" He is so untidy,"— she replied artlessly.—
" He must be a nice man, however, and he sings
so splendidly .... one's heart stirs within one
when he sings."

326

THE TWO FRIENDS

" Ah! "—articulated Vyazovm'n, and after a
brief pause, he added:— "But whom do you
like?"

" I like a great many people,— I like you."
' You and I are friends, of course. But don't
you like some one of the others better? "

" How inquisitive you are! "

" And you are very cold."

" How so? "—asked Vyerotchka, ingenuously.

" Listen . . . ." Vyazovnin was beginning.

But at that moment Stepan Petrovitch turned
in his chair.

" Listen," — he went on, in a barely audible
tone, while his blood fairly throbbed in his
throat,—" I must say something to you, some-
thing very important .... only not here."

" Where, then? "

" The next room would do."

"What is it?"— asked Vyerotchka, rising.
" A secret, I suppose? "

" Yes, a secret."

" A secret,"— repeated Vyerotchka, with sur-
prise, and went into the adjoining room.

Vyazovnin followed her, as in a fever.

" Well, what is it? "—she asked with curiosity.

Boris Andreitch would have liked to lead up
to the point from afar; but when he looked into
that young face, animated by that faint smile
which he so loved, into those clear eyes, which
gazed forth with so gentle a glance, he lost his

327

THE TWO FRIENDS

head and quite unexpectedly to himself, without
any preliminaries, he asked Vyerotchka point-
blank :

' Vyera Stepanovna, will you be my wife? "

" What? "—asked Vyerotchka, flushing all
over, so that her very ears were crimson.

" Will you be my wife? "—repeated Vyazov-
nin, mechanically.

"I .... I— really, I don't know— I did not
expect .... this is so ... ." whispered Vyera,
putting her hands on the window-sill, to keep
from falling,— then she suddenly fled from the
room to her own chamber.

Boris Andreitch stood for a while where he was,
and then, in great perturbation returned to the
study. On the table lay a copy of The Mos-
cow News. He picked it up, seated himself,
and began to glance over the lines, not only with-
out understanding what was printed there, but
even having no conception on the whole as to
what had happened to him. He spent about a
quarter of an hour in this condition; but then a
faint rustle resounded behind him, and without
looking around, he felt that Vyera had entered.

Several more moments passed. He darted an
oblique glance from behind the sheet of the
News. She was sitting by the window, and
seemed pale. At last he summoned his courage,
rose, went to her, and dropped into a chair by
her side. . . .

328

THE TWO FRIENDS

Stepan Petrovitch did not stir as he sat with
head thrown back in his arm-chair.

" Pardon me, Vyera Stepanovna,"— began
Vyazovnm, with a certain amount of effort: —
" I am to blame; I ought not to have so suddenly
.... and yet .... I had no reason, of course,
to ... ."

Vyerotchka made him no reply.

" But since it has happened so,"— went on
Boris Andreitch,— " I should like to know what
answer . . . ."

Vyerotchka softly dropped her eyes ; again her
cheeks flushed crimson.

' Vyera Stepanovna, one word."

"I ... really, I don't know, Boris Andreitch
. . . ."—she began,—" that depends on papa. . . ."

" 111? "—Stepan Petrovitch's voice suddenly
rang out.

Vyerotchka started, and hastily raised her head.
Stepan Petrovitch's eyes, riveted upon her, ex-
pressed uneasiness. She immediately went to him.

" Did you ask me something, papa? "

" IU? "-he repeated.

" Who? I? No. ... What makes you think
so?"

He gazed intently at her.

" Really well? "—he continued his inquiries.

"Of course; how do you feel? "

" Brau, brau,"— he said quietly, and again
closed his eyes.

329

THE TWO FRIENDS

Vyerotchka was walking toward the door, but
Boris Andreitch stopped her.

" Tell me, at least, do you permit me to speak
to your father? "

"As you like,"— she whispered:— " only, it
seems to me, Boris Andreitch, that I am no mate
for you."

Boris Andreitch tried to take her hand, but she
evaded him, and left the room. " How strange ! "
—he thought.— " She says the same thing as
Krupitzyn."

When he was left alone with Stepan Petro-
vitch, Boris Andreitch promised himself that he
would explain himself to him in a very judicious
manner, and so far as he was able, prepare him for
the unexpected proposal ; but when it came to ac-
tion, it proved to be far more difficult even than
with Vyerotchka. Stepan Petrovitch was slightly
feverish, and being in a condition which was
neither exactly meditation nor yet exactly a doze,
replied reluctantly and slowly to the various
questions and remarks, by means of which Boris
Andreitch was hoping gradually to lead up to
the real topic of the conversation. ... In a word,
Boris Andreitch, perceiving that all his hints were
being wasted, made up his mind, willy-nilly, to
come straight to the point.

Several times he inhaled a long breath, as
though preparing to speak, then stopped short,
without uttering a word.

330

THE TWO FRIENDS

" Stepan Petrovitch,"— he began at last,—" I
intend to make you a proposal which will greatly
astonish you."

" Brau, brau," — said Stepan Petrovitch,
calmly.

" A proposal which you are not expecting in
the least."

Stepan Petrovitch opened his eyes.

" Only please don't be angry with me "

Stepan Petrovitch's eyes opened wider than
ever.

" I .... I intend to ask of you the hand of
your daughter, Vyera Stepanovna."

Stepan Petrovitch rose quickly from his Vol-
taire chair.

" What? "—he asked, in precisely the same
voice, and with precisely the same expression as
Vyerotchka.

Boris Andreitch was compelled to repeat his
proposal.

Stepan Petrovitch riveted his gaze on Vyazov-
nin, and stared long and in silence at him, so that,
at last, the latter became uncomfortable.

" Does Vyera know? "—inquired Stepan Pe-
trovitch.

" I have had an explanation with Vyera Stepa-
novna, and she has given me permission to address
myself to you."

"Have you just had the explanation with

her? "

381

THE TWO FRIENDS

" Yes, a little while ago."

"Wait,"— said Stepan Petrovitch, and left
the room.

Boris Andreitch was left alone in the eccen-
tric's study. He was staring, in a numb sort of
way, now at the walls, now at the floor, when
suddenly the trampling of hoofs rang out
at the porch, the door of the anteroom banged,
and a thick voice inquired: "At home? " Steps
became audible, and Mikhei Mikheitch, with
whom we are already acquainted, burst into the
room.

Boris Andreitch was ready to swoon with vexa-
tion.

" Whew, how hot it is here! " —exclaimed Mi-
khei Mikheitch, as he dropped down on the divan.
— " Ah, good morning ! And where is Stepan
Petrovitch? "

" He has gone out ; he will be back di-
rectly."

"It 's frightfully cold to-day,"— remarked
Mikhei Mikheitch, pouring himself out a glass
of vodka.

And almost before he had fairly swallowed it,
he said vivaciously:

" I come from town again, you know."

" From town? "—returned Vyazovnm, with
difficulty concealing his confusion.

" Yes, from town,"— repeated Mikhei Mikhe-
itch;—" and all thanks to that brigand Onufry.

332

THE TWO FRIENDS

Just imagine, he told me such a damned pack of
lies, he set such dastardly wheels in motion, that ai-
lullaby, my joy! ' I 've found such an affair for
you,' says he, ' the like of which has never before
existed in the world; simply— all you have to do
is to rake in the rubles/ And the affair ended
by his borrowing twenty-five rubles from me, and
I dragged myself to town in vain, and have ut-
terly exhausted my horses."

' You don't say so! "—muttered Vyazovnin.

" I tell you, he 's a brigand, a brigand, if ever
there was one. All he has to do is to take to the
road with an iron ball hitched to a strap. Really,
I don't understand what the police are about.
Why, one would be reduced to beggary by him
if one went on in that way, by God! "

Stepan Petrovitch entered the room.

Mikhei Mikheitch began to narrate to him his
adventures with Omifry.

" And why does n't somebody wring his
neck? " —he exclaimed.

" Wring his neck,"— repeated Stepan Petro-
vitch, and suddenly began to roar with laughter.

Mikhei Mikheitch also began to laugh, as he
looked at him, and even repeated: " Exactly; he
ought to have his neck wrung." But when Ste-
pan Petrovitch fell back, at last, on the divan, in
convulsions of hysterical laughter, Mikhei Mi-
kheitch turned to Boris Andreitch and said,
throwing his hands somewhat apart:

THE TWO FRIENDS

" He 's always like that: he '11 suddenly take
to laughing,— the Lord only knows at what. He
has so much arrogance! "

Vyerotchka entered, all agitated, with red-
dened eyes.

" Papa is not quite well to-day,"— she re-
marked, in an undertone to Mikhei Mikheitch.

Mikhei Mikheitch nodded, and thrust a bit of
cheese into his mouth. At last Stepan Petro-
vitch stopped, rose, sighed, and began to pace
the room. Boris Andreitch avoided his glances,
and sat as though on pins and needles. Mi-
khei Mikheitch began again to abuse Onufry
Ilitch.

They sat down to dinner ; at table also, no one
spoke but Mikhei Mikheitch. At last, as evening
was drawing on, Stepan Petrovitch took Boris
Andreitch's arm, and silently led him into the
next room.

"Are you a good man?"— he asked, looking
him in the face.

" I am an honest man, Stepan Petrovitch," -
replied Boris Andreitch:— " I can guarantee that,
— and I love your daughter."

"You love her? Truly?"

" I do, and I shall endeavour to win her love."

" You wiU not get tired of her? " Stepan Pe-
trovitch put another question.

"Never!"

Stepan Petrovitch's face contracted with pain.
334

THE TWO FRIENDS

' Well, see that you don't. . . . You love her
.... I consent."

Boris Andreitch tried to embrace him, but he
said:

"Afterward .... good."

And wheeling round, he went to the wall.
Boris Andreitch could see that he was weeping.

Stepan Petrovitch wiped his eyes without turn-
ing round, then went back to the study, passing
Boris Andreitch, and, without looking at him,
he said with his habitual smile :

' That will do for to-day, if you please ....
to-morrow .... everything .... that is nec-
essary . . . ."

:c Very well, very well," hastily replied Boris
Andreitch, and entering the study in his wake,
he exchanged a glance with Vyerotchka.

He felt joyful in soul, yet embarrassed at
the same time. He could not remain long at
Stepan Petrovitch's in company with Mikhei
Mikheitch ; he felt the imperative necessity of be-
ing alone,— and, moreover, he longed to see Piotr
Vasilitch. He departed, promising to return
the next day. As he took leave of Vyerotchka in
the anteroom, he kissed her hand; she gazed at
him.

" Until to-morrow,"— he said to her.

" Farewell,"— she replied, softly.

" So there, you see, Piotr Vasilitch,"— said
Boris Andreitch, as he concluded his recital, and

335

THE TWO FRIENDS

strode to and fro in his bedroom,— " something
has occurred to me. Why does it frequently hap-
pen that a young man does not marry? Be-
cause it seems to him a terrible thing to enslave
his life; he thinks: ' What 's the hurry? There 's
plenty of time; perhaps I 11 wait for a better
chance/ And he ends, generally, by becoming
a grumpy old bachelor, or he marries the first
woman he hits upon; all that is selfishness and
pride. I shall never find a better wife for myself
than Vyerotchka ; and if she is somewhat lacking
from the side of education, I shall make it my
business to attend to that. She has quite a phleg-
matic disposition, but that 's no misfortune—
quite the contrary! That is why I made up my
mind so quickly. And thou didst advise me to
marry. But if I have made a mistake," — he
added, then paused, and after brief reflection,
went on:— "there 's no great harm done! My
life would not have amounted to anything as it
is!"

Piotr Vasilitch listened in silence to his friend,
now and then sipping from a cracked glass the
very bad tea prepared by the zealous Makedoniya.

:< Why dost thou not say something? " —Boris
Andreitch asked him at last, coming to a halt in
front of him.— " I certainly am talking prac-
tically, am I not? Thou agreest with me, dost
thou not? "

' The proposal has been made,"— replied
336

THE TWO FRIENDS

Piotr Vasilitch, pausing between his words:—
" the father has given his blessing, the daughter
has not refused, consequently, further discussion
is useless. Perhaps everything really is for the
best. We must think of the wedding now, and
not argue; but the morning is wiser than the
evening. . . . We will talk things over in proper
style to-morrow.— Hey! Who 's there? escort
Boris Andreitch."

" But do embrace me ; at least, congratulate
me,"— replied Boris Andreitch. " What a fellow
thou art, really! "

" As for embracing, I '11 embrace thee with
pleasure."

And Piotr Vasilitch embraced Boris Andre-
itch.

" May God give thee every good thing on this
earth!"

The friends parted.

" 'T is all because,"— said Piotr Vasilitch aloud
to himself, as he turned on his other side, after
having lain for some time in bed,— ' 't is all be-
cause he has not been in the military service ! He
has got into the habit of being capricious, and
does n't know the regulations."

A MONTH later, Vyazovnin married Vyerotchka.
He himself had urgently requested that the wed-
ding should not be delayed. Piotr Vasilitch acted
.as his best man. Vyazovnin drove to Stepan Pe-

337

THE TWO FRIENDS

trovitch's every day during that month; but no
change was observable in his demeanour to Vye-
rotchka, or in hers to him: she had become more
shy with him— that was all. He brought her
" Yury Miloslavsky," and himself read aloud
to. her several chapters. Zagoskin's 1 romance
pleased her ; but when she had finished it, she did
not ask for another. Karantyeff came once to
take a look at Vyerotchka, who had become the
betrothed of another man, and it must be ad-
mitted that he came in a state of intoxication,
stared at her uninterruptedly, as though prepar-
ing to say something, but said nothing; he was
asked to sing, and started up some mournful
ditty or other, then began a dashing lay, flung
his guitar on the divan, bade every one farewell,
and on taking his seat in his sledge, fell prone on
the hay with which the bottom was spread, and
began to sob— and a quarter of an hour later was
plunged in drunken slumber.

Vyerotchka was very sad on the eve of the wed-
ding, and Stepan Petrovitch also was depressed.
He had hoped that Boris Andreitch would con-
sent to remove to his house for permanent resi-
dence; but he said not a word about this and, on
the contrary, Boris Andreitch proposed to Stepan
Petrovitch that he should settle down at Vya-
zovna for a while. The old man declined ; he was

1 Mikhail Vasilievitch Zagdskin, a writer in the thirties of the
nineteenth century. —TRANSLATOR.

338

THE TWO FRIENDS

accustomed to his study. Vyerotchka promised
to visit him once a week at least. How dejectedly
did her father answer: " Brau, brau! "

So, then, Boris Andreitch began his life as a
married man. At first everything went finely.
Vyerotchka, being a capital housewife, estab-
lished order in his house. He admired her noiseless
but solicitous activity, her perennially bright and
gentle temper, he called her " his little Dutch
woman," and kept incessantly repeating to Piotr
Vasilitch that he now knew, for the first time,
what happiness was. It must be noted, that Piotr
Vasilitch, from the day of the wedding, ceased to
come to him so frequently as before, and did not
sit so long with him, although Boris Andreitch,
as of yore, received him with great cordiality, and
Vyerotchka was sincerely attached to him.

:< Thy life is no longer what it was,"— he said
to Vyazovnin, when the latter affectionately ac-
cused him of having grown cold toward him:—
" thou art a married man, I am a bachelor. I
might be in the way."

At first Vyazovnin did not contradict him; but
before long, he gradually began to perceive that
he was bored at home without Krupitzyn. His
wife was not at all in his way; on the contrary,
he sometimes quite forgot her existence, and for
whole mornings in succession he did not say a
word to her, although he always gazed with satis-
faction and tenderness in her face; and every

339

THE TWO FRIENDS

time that she walked past him with her light step,
he caught her hand and kissed it, which invariably
evoked a smile on her lips. The smile was the
one which he so loved ; but enough concerning that
smile.

There was too little in common between them,
and he began to divine this.

" Well, there 's no denying that my wife has
very few resources,"— thought Boris Andreitch
one day, as he sat, with folded arms, on the divan.

Vyerotchka's words, which she had said to him
on the day he made his proposal,— " I am not a
mate for you,"— began to resound in his soul.

" If I were some German or learned man,"—
he pursued his meditations,— "or if I had any
steady occupation which engrossed the greater
part of my time, such a wife would be a treasure ;
but as it is! Can it be that I have made a mis-
take? " . . . . This last thought was more tor-
turing to him than he had anticipated.

When, that same morning, Piotr Vasilitch
repeated to him once more that he would not
disturb them, he was in no condition to contain
himself, and blurted out :

" Good gracious ! thou dost not disturb us in
the least; on the contrary, it is much jollier for us
when thou art present . . . ." He came near say-
ing " much more comfortable." — And it was
really so.

Boris Andreitch gladly chatted with Piotr
340

THE TWO FRIENDS

Vasilitch in exactly the same manner as he had
before his marriage; and Vyerotchka knew how
to talk to him, but she stood too greatly in awe
of her husband, and with all her indubitable af-
fection for him she did not know what to say to
him, how to entertain him. . . .

In addition to this, she saw that the presence of
Piotr Vasilitch made him animated. The end
of it all was, that Piotr Vasilitch became an ab-
solutely indispensable person in Boris Andre-
itch's house. He became as fond of Vyerotchka
as of a daughter ; and it was impossible not to love
so amiable a being. When Boris Andreitch,
thanks to human weakness, confided to him his
most intimate thoughts and complaints, Piotr
Vasilitch vigorously reproved him for his in-
gratitude, enumerated to him all Vyerotchka's
merits, and one day, in reply to a remark of Boris
Andreitch, to the effect that he, Piotr Vasilitch,
himself had certainly thought them unsuited to
each other, he answered him angrily that he was
not worthy of her.

" I have found nothing in her,"— muttered
Boris Andreitch.

" What dost thou mean by that? Why, didst
thou expect anything remarkable from her?
Thou hast found a splendid wife in her. That 's
what!"

" That is true,"— hastily replied Vyazovnin.

In Vyazovnm's house, everything went on as
341

THE TWO FRIENDS

before— peaceably and quietly, because there was
no possibility of quarrelling with Vyerotchka—
not even a misunderstanding could exist between
her and her husband; but the internal rupture
could be detected in everything. Thus is the in-
fluence of an invisible internal wound perceptible
in a man's whole being. Vyerotchka was not in
the habit of complaining; moreover, she did not,
even mentally, blame Vyazovnin for anything,
and it never once entered his head that she did not
find it altogether easy to live with him. Two per-
sons only understood her position: her old fa-
ther and Piotr Vasilitch. Stepan Petrovitch
petted her, and gazed into her eyes with a certain
compassion when she went to see him, — he did
not question her about anything, but he sighed
more frequently as he paced his room, and his
" brau, brau ! " no longer had, as before, the ring
of unperturbed peace of a soul which has with-
drawn from all that is earthly. Separated from
his daughter, he seemed to have grown paler and
thinner.

Neither was what was going on in her soul a
secret to Piotr Vasilitch. Vyerotchka did not
in the least demand that her husband should oc-
cupy himself with her, or even chat with her; but
the thought that she was a burden to him pained
her. One day, Piotr Vasilitch found her stand-
ing motionless with her face to the wall. Like
her father, whom she resembled in an extraor-

342

THE TWO FRIENDS

dinary degree, she did not like to display her
tears, and turned away when she wept, even if
she was alone in the room. . . . Piotr Vasilitch
walked softly past her, and afterward did not
allow her to suspect, from the slightest hint, that
he understood why she had been standing with
her face to the wall. On the other hand, he
gave Vyazovnm no peace. Not once, it is true,
did he utter in his presence those insultingly-irri-
tating, useless, and conceited words : " I told thee
beforehand exactly how it would be!"— those
words which, we may remark in passing, the very
best of people are unable to refrain from utter-
ing in moments of the most fervent sympathy;
but he pitilessly attacked Boris Andreitch for his
indifference and spleen, and once worked him
into such a state that he ran to Vyerotchka, and
began uneasily to scrutinise and interrogate her.
She looked at him so gently and answered him so
calmly, that he went away, inwardly perturbed by
Piotr Vasilitch's reproaches, but content that
Vyerotchka, at least, suspected nothing. . . .
So passed the winter.

Such relations cannot last long: they either
end in a rupture, or undergo a change which is
rarely for the better. . . .

Boris Andreitch did not become irritable and
exacting, as often happens with people who feel
conscious that they are in the wrong, neither did
.he permit himself the cheap satisfaction in which

343

THE TWO FRIENDS

even clever persons frequently indulge, of jeer-
ing and ridicule, and he did not sink into melan-
choly; he simply began to be preoccupied by the
thought, how he might get away from the place,
—for a time, of course.

" Travel! " he kept repeating to himself when
he rose in the morning. ' Travel! " he whispered
as he went to bed: in that word there lay hidden
seductive enchantment for him. He made an
attempt to frequent the society of Sofya Kiril-
lovna, for diversion, but her loquacity and her
freedom of manner, her smiles and grimaces,
seemed extremely mawkish to him. " She 's not
to be compared with Vyerotchka! " —he thought,
as he gazed at the showily-attired widow, and yet
the idea of getting away from that same Vye-
rotchka never left him. . . .

The breath of approaching spring,— that
spring which draws and entices even the birds
from beyond the sea, — dissipated his last misgiv-
ings, turned his head. He went off to Peters-
burg, on the pretext of some weighty business
that could not be postponed, which up to that
time had never so much as been mentioned. . . .
As he took leave of Vyerotchka, he suddenly felt
his heart contract and bleed ; he felt sorry for his
kind, quiet wife. Tears gushed from his eyes, and
bedewed her white brow, which he had just
touched with his lips. ..." I shall return soon,
very soon, and I will write, my darling!"— he

344

THE TWO FRIENDS

said over and over again,— and committing her
to the attention and friendship of Piotr Vasflitch,
he seated himself in his calash, profoundly moved
and sad. . . . His sadness vanished instantly at
the sight of the first tenderly-green willows on
the highway, which ran two versts distant from
his village ; an incomprehensible, almost youthful
rapture set his heart to beating hard; his breast
heaved, and he eagerly riveted his eyes on the far
distance.

"No! "-he exclaimed;-"! see that-

To the same cart one must not hitch
A war-horse and a timorous doe. . . ."

But what sort of a war-horse was he?

Vyera was left alone; but, in the first place,
Piotr Vasilitch called upon her frequently, and,
best of all, her old father made up his mind to
tear himself from his beloved abode, and re-
moved for a time to his daughter's house. And
those three began to live gloriously together.
Their tastes, their habits, coincided! And yet,
Vyazovnm not only was not forgotten by them,
—quite the contrary, he served them all as an
invisible bond of union; they talked incessantly
about him, about his cleverness, his kindness,
about the good-breeding and simplicity of his
manners. It was as though they had come to be
fonder than ever of Boris Andreitch during his

345

THE TWO FRIENDS

absence from home. Splendid weather set in;
the days did not fly, no, they passed peacefully
and cheerfully, like the bright, high-hanging
clouds in the clear blue sky. Vyazovnin wrote
rarely; his letters were read and re-read with
great satisfaction. In each of them he spoke
of his speedy return. ... At last, one day, Piotr
Vasilitch received from him the following epistle :

DEAR FRIEND, my very kind Piotr Vasflitch! I have
meditated long how to begin this letter ; but, obviously,
the best way will be to tell thee point-blank that I am
going abroad. This news will, I know, surprise thee
and even anger thee: thou couldst not possibly have
expected it, — and thou wilt be doing quite right if thou
callest me a light-minded and dissipated man; and I
have not the slightest intention of justifying myself,
and even at this moment I feel myself blushing. But
listen to what I have to say with some lenience. In the
first place, I am going for a very short time only, and
in such company and on such advantageous terms as
thou canst not possibly imagine to thyself; and, in the
second place, I am firmly convinced that, after having
played the fool for the last time, for the last time satis-
fied my passion to see and experience everything, I shall
become a capital husband, family man, and stay-at-home,
and shall prove that I know how to value the undeserved
favour which Fate has done me in conferring upon me
such a wife as Vyerotchka. Please convince her of this,
and show her this letter. I shall not write to her now
myself: I have not the spirit for that, — but I shall write
without fail from Stettin, to which port the steamer

34(5

THE TWO FRIENDS

is bound ; and in the meantime, tell her that I am kneel-
ing before her, and humbly entreating her not to grieve
for her stupid husband. Knowing her angelic disposi-
tion, I am persuaded that she will forgive me; and I
swear by everything in the world that three months
hence, not later, I will return to Vyazovna, and then you
won't be able to get me away from there by force to the
end of my days. Farewell, or rather— good-bye for a
short time; I embrace thee and kiss my Vyerotchka's
charming hands. I will write to thee from Stettin,
where letters are to be addressed to me. In case of any
unforeseen business, and in regard to the management
of the estate in general, I depend upon thee, as upon a
stone wall. Thy

BORIS VYAZOVNIN.

P. S. Order my study to be papered in the autumn
.... without fail .... dost hear me?

Alas! The hopes expressed by Boris Andre-
itch in this letter were not destined to fulfilment.
Owing to a multitude of cares and new impres-
sions, he did not find time to write from Stettin to
Vyerotchka ; but from Hamburg he sent her a let-
ter, in which he informed her of his intention to
visit Paris,— for the purpose of inspecting sev-
eral industrial establishments, and also for the
purpose of attending certain necessary lectures,
—and requested her to address his letters there,
poste restante, for the future.

Vyazovnin reached Paris in the morning, and,
347

THE TWO FRIENDS

having in the course of the day made the round of
the boulevards, the garden of the Tuilleries, the
Place de la Concorde, the Palais Royal, and hav-
ing even ascended the Colonne Vendome, he
dined solidly, and with the air of a habitue at Ve-
four's, and in the evening betook himself to the
Chateau-des-Fleurs — to find out, in the capa-
city of spectator, what the " cancan " really was,
and how the Parisians execute that dance. The
dance itself did not please Vyazovnm ; but one of
the Parisiennes, who had executed the cancan,
a lively, slender brunette with a snub-nose and
bold eyes, did please him. He began to stop be-
side her more and more frequently, first exchang-
ing glances with her, then smiles, then words. . . .
Half an hour later, she was walking arm in arm
with him, had told him son petit nom3— Julie,—
and had hinted that she was hungry, and that no-
thing could be better than a supper a la Maison
d'Or, dans un petit cabinet particulier. Boris An-
dreitch himself was not hungry in the least, and,
moreover, supper in the company of Mademoi-
selle Julie had not entered into his calculations.
..." But, if that is the custom here/'— he
thought,— " I must go. Partons! " —he said
aloud,— but at that moment, some one trod on
his foot in a very painful manner. He cried out,
turned round, and beheld before him a middle-
aged gentleman, very thick-set and broad-shoul-
dered, in a tight stock, and a civilian's coat but-

348

o

.

THE TWO FRIENDS

toned to the throat, and full trousers of military
cut. With his hat pulled down on his very nose,
from beneath which his dyed moustache hung
down in two little cascades, and with the pockets
of his trousers outspread by the thumbs of his
hairy hands, this gentleman,— an infantry offi-
cer, by all the tokens— had riveted his eyes
straight on Vyazovnin's face. The expression
of his yellow eyes, of his rough, flat cheeks, of
his bluish, protruding cheek-bones, of his whole
countenance, was churlish and insolent.

14 Was it you who trod on my foot?"— said
Vyazovnm.

ff Oui,, monsieur. . ."

" But in such cases .... people beg pardon."

" And what if I don't choose to beg your par-
don, monsieur le Moscovite? "

Parisians instantly recognise Russians.

f That means that you intended to insult me? "
—inquired Vyazovnm.

fc Oui, monsieur; I don't like the shape of your
nose."

ff Fi, le gros jaloux!" — whispered Mademoi-
selle Julie, to whom, apparently, the infantry
officer was not a stranger. . . .

" But in that case . . . ." began Vyazovnm,
s though perplexed. . . .

You mean to say,"— interposed the officer:
-" in that case, we must fight. Of course. Very
good, sir. Here is my card."
349

THE TWO FRIENDS

"And here is mine,"— replied Vyazovnin,— and
without ceasing to wonder, and as though asleep,
with a confused beating of the heart, he scribbled
on the shining paper of his visiting-card, with a
gold pencil which he had just purchased as a
trinket for his watch-chain, the words: "Hotel
des Trois Monarques, No. 46."

The officer nodded, remarked that he " would
have the honour of sending his seconds to M-r.
. . . M-r." ... (he raised Vyazovnin's card to
his right eye) , " to M-r. de Vazavononin " —and
turned his back on Boris Andreitch, who imme-
diately quitted the Chateau-des-Fleurs. Made-
moiselle Julie attempted to detain him,— but he
looked very coldly on her. . . . She slowly turned
away from him, and for a long time thereafter,
sitting down apart, she was engaged in explain-
ing something to the angry officer, who, as before,
did not remove his hands from his trousers, kept
twitching his moustache, and did not smile. . . .

On emerging into the street, Vyazovnin read
the card which had been handed to him for the
second time, and with great attention, under the
first gas-lamp he came to. On it stood the fol-
lowing words: tf Alexandre Leboeuf, capitaine
en second au 83-me de ligne"

" Can it be possible that this will have any con-
sequences? "—he thought, as he wended his way
back to his hotel. " Can it be possible that I shall
really fight! And for what? and on the very day

350

THE TWO FRIENDS

after my arrival in Paris ! How stupid ! " — He be-
gan letters to Vyerotchka and to Piotr Vasilitch,
—and immediately tore up and threw away the
letters thus begun. "Nonsense! a mere comedy!"
—he repeated, and lay down to sleep.— But his
thoughts took another turn when, on the follow-
ing morning, at breakfast, two gentlemen pre-
sented themselves to him, who bore a strong re-
semblance to M. Leboeuf, only somewhat
younger (all French infantry officers have one
and the same cast of countenance) , and, announc-
ing their names (one was M-r. Lecocq, the other
M-r. Pinochet— and both served as lieutenants
<c au 83-me de ligne), introduced themselves to
Boris Andreitch in the capacity of seconds ffde
noire ami, M-r. Leboeuf" sent by him for the
purpose of taking the requisite measures, as their
friend, M-r. Leboeuf, could not accept any ex-
cuses. Vyazovnm was compelled, on his side, to
inform the officers, the friends of M-r. Leboeuf,
that, being a newcomer in Paris, he had not yet
had time to look about him, and provide himself
with seconds ... (" One is sufficient, is it not? "
—he added.—" Entirely sufficient," replied M-r.
Pinochet), and therefore he must request the
officers to grant him four hours' grace. The offi-
cers exchanged glances, shrugged their shoulders,
but consented, and rose from their seats.

Cf Si monsieur le desire''— suddenly remarked
M-r. Pinochet, stopping short at the door (of the

351

THE TWO FRIENDS

two seconds he was, evidently, the more ready
of speech, and had been commissioned to do the
talking— M-r. Lecocq only grunted approv-
ingly).—"/^ monsieur le desired—he repeated
(at this point, Vyazovnin recalled M'sieu Galassi,
his Moscow hairdresser, who frequently employed
that phrase) :— " we can recommend one of the
officers of our regiment, le lieutenant Barbichon,
un gar f on tres devoue, who will certainly consent
to render f a un gentleman' (M-r. Pinochet
pronounced this word in French fashion : zhantle-
man) — " the service of extricating him from a
dilemma, and, on becoming your second, will take
your interests to heart— prendra a coeur vos in-
terets."

Vyazovnin was astonished, at first, by such a
proposition, but, on reflecting that he had no ac-
quaintances in Paris, he thanked M-r. Pinochet,
and said that he would expect M-r. Barbichon.—
And M-r. Barbichon made no delay in presenting
himself. This garcon tres devoue proved to be
an extremely alert and active individual. De-
claring that ff cet animal de Lebaeuf nen fait
jamais d'autres , . . c'est un Othello, monsieur,
un veritable Othello'3— he asked Vyazovnin:
ff N'est ce pas., vous desirez que I3 affaire soit
serieuse? " and without waiting for an answer,
exclaimed, " C'est tout ce que je desirais savoir!
Laissez-moi faire! " — And, in fact, he conducted
the affair in such brisk fashion, he took Vyazov-

352

THE TWO FRIENDS

nin's interests so warmly to heart that, four hours
later, poor Boris Andreitch, who had never known
how to fence in his life, was standing in the very
centre of a small glade in the Bois de Vincennes,
sword in hand, with shirt-sleeves rolled up, and
without his coat, two paces distant from his an-
tagonist, who was similarly disrobed. The scene
was illuminated by brilliant sunlight. Vyazovnin
was utterly unable to explain clearly to himself
how he had got there; he continued to repeat to
himself : " How stupid this is ! how stupid this is ! "
and he felt conscience-stricken,— as though he
were taking part in some vulgar prank,— and an
awkward smile, concealed within, never quitted
his soul, while his eyes could not tear themselves
away from the low forehead, and the closely-
clipped black hair of the Frenchman who tow-
ered aloft before him.

fc Tout est pret! " —rang out a lisping voice.
te Allez!" — squeaked another voice.

M-r. Lebceuf's face assumed an expression
which was not so much malicious as rapacious.
Vyazovnin flourished his sword. . . (Pinochet
had assured him that ignorance of the art of
fencing gave him great advantages : " de grands
avantages! ") . . . then something remarkable
suddenly came to pass. Something clashed,
stamped, glittered— Vyazovnin felt in the right
side of his breast the presence of some sort of
a long cold stick. . . . He tried to push it away,

353

THE TWO FRIENDS

to say: " I don't want it! " but he was already
lying on his back and experiencing a strange,
almost absurd sensation: as though they were
trying to extract teeth all over his body. . . . Then
the earth softly slipped away from under him. . .
The first voice said : fe Tout s'est passe dans les
regies, nest ce pas, messieurs? " -The second
voice answered : f( O} parfaitement! " And bang !
everything round about flew away, and sank
away. . . . " Vyerotchka ! " Vyazovnin had
barely managed to think dimly.

Toward evening, " the devoted young fellow "
carried him to the Hotel des Trois Monarques—
and during the night he expired. Vyazovnm had
set out for that bourne whence no traveller has
ever returned. He did not recover his conscious-
ness before death, and only stammered a couple
of times : " I shall return directly .... this is
nothing .... now to the country. ..." The
Russian priest, for whom the landlord sent, re-
ported the whole affair to our Embassy— arid
" the unfortunate affair with the Russian trav-
eller " —got into all the newspapers in a couple of
days.

Painful .and bitter was it for Piotr Vasilitch to
communicate to Vyerotchka her husband's letter ;
but when the news of Vyazovnin's death reached
him, he lost his head completely. The first per-
son to read about it in the newspapers was Mi-

354

THE TWO FRIENDS

khei Mikheitch, and he immediately galloped off
to Piotr Vasilitch, in company with Onufry
Hitch, with whom he had succeeded in making up.
As was to have been expected, he began to shout
while he was still in the anteroom: " Just fancy,
what a calamity! " and so forth. Piotr Vasilitch
would not believe him for a long time ; but when
doubt was no longer possible, he betook himself
to Vyerotchka, after waiting a whole day. His
mere aspect— crushed, annihilated— alarmed her
to such a degree that she could hardly stand up-
right. He tried to prepare her for the fatal news,
but his strength failed him — he sat down, and
stammered through his tears:
" He is dead, dead. . . ."

A YEAR passed. Fresh sprouts spring from
the stump of the felled tree; even the deepest
wound heals over; life also replaces death, just
as it is replaced by it,— and Vyerotchka's
heart was somewhat rested and had recovered
life.

Moreover, Vyazovnin did not belong to the
category of those people who cannot be replaced
(and are there any such people?) —neither was
Vyerotchka capable of devoting herself forever
to feelings (are there any such feelings?). She
had married Vyazovnin without compulsion and
without enthusiasm ; she had been faithful and de-

355

THE TWO FRIENDS

voted to him ; but she had not surrendered herself
wholly to him ; she mourned him sincerely, but not
madly .... what more could be required?
Piotr Vasilitch did not cease to visit her; as of
yore, he was her closest friend, and therefore it
is not in the least surprising that, on being left
alone with her one day, he looked into her face
and very calmly proposed that she should become
his wife. . . . She smiled in reply, and gave him
her hand. Their life after the wedding flowed on
precisely as before: there was no necessity for
making any change.

About ten years have elapsed since that time.
Old BarsukofT lives with them, and as he never
goes a step away from his grandchildren, — he has
three already, two little girls and one boy,— he
grows younger every year. He even talks with
them, especially with his pet grandson, a curly-
haired, black-eyed urchin, named Stepan in
honour of him. The little rogue is perfectly well
aware that his grandfather adores him, and, in
consequence of this, he permits himself to mimic
his way of walking about the room and exclaim-
ing: " Brau, brau! " This prank always creates
great mirth in the whole household.

Poor Vyazovnin is not forgotten to this day.
Piotr Vasilitch reveres his memory, always refers
to him with special emotion, and on every con-
venient occasion never fails to say that the de-
ceased loved this or that, that he had such or such

356

THE TWO FRIENDS

a habit. Piotr Vasilitch, his wife, and all the
members of his household pass their time in a very
monotonous manner— peaceably and quietly;
they enjoy happiness .... because there is no
other happiness on earth.

357

355

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