“I heard, dear lady. Proshka was saying so, but at first I wasn’t clear what he was talking about. I thought he’d already arrived; I actually broke out in sweat for joy.”
“May God give you health, Anton Ivanych, for loving us.”
“How could I not love you! Why, look, I carried Alexander Fyodorych in my arms; he’s the same as one of my family.”
“Thank you, Anton Ivanych; God will reward you! But I have practically not slept for another night and haven’t let my people sleep; how awful if he came and we were all dozing–a fine state of affairs! Yesterday and the day before I walked to the grove, and would have gone today, except that my wretched age is getting the better of me. Insomnia plagued me at night. Sit down, Anton Ivanych. Look, you’re soaked through; don’t you want to have a drink and lunch? Dinner will be late perhaps; we’ll wait for our dear guest.”
“Well, perhaps I’ll have a snack. As for the other, I must admit, I’ve had lunch!”
“Where did you manage to do that?”
“I stopped at the crossroads at Marya Karpovna’s. I had to go past there, you see. More for the horse than for me, I gave her a rest. It’s no joke in today’s heat to clock off eight miles. There in passing I had a bite to eat. Good that I didn’t obey and stay, however much they urged me; if I had, the storm would have kept me there all day.”
“So, how is Marya Karpovna?”
“She’s well, thank God! She sends you greetings.”
“I humbly thank you. And her daughter, Sofiya Mikhailovna, and her husband, how are they?”
“Fine, dear lady; they’re expecting their sixth child. In two weeks it’s due. They asked me to stop by around that time. But there’s such poverty at their house that I wouldn’t even take a look. It would seem they had enough children, but no. Amazing!”
“What you do say!”
“Really, now! Inside, all the door and window frames have warped. The floor gives way under your feet. The roof leaks. And they haven’t the wherewithal to fix it. They serve soup, a bun and mutton–and that’s really all. But how eagerly they invite you!”
“Amazing, and she was out to catch my Sashenka, that crow!”
“What was she thinking of, dear lady, trying to catch such a falcon! I can’t wait to see him. Such a handsome fellow, I’m sure! I’ve been suspecting something, Anna Pavlovna: hasn’t he won the heart of some princess or countess there and hasn’t he come to ask your blessing and invite you to the wedding?”
“Do you think so, Anton Ivanych!” said Anna Pavlovna, dissolved in joy.
“Really!”
“Oh, you dear man, may God give you health!… Yes, here I was about to forget it. I’ve wanted to tell you and there I forgot; I’ve been thinking and thinking what is this, and it’s been on the tip of my tongue. And you see, no use, it would have been lost. Will you have a bite of lunch first, or shall I tell you now?”
“It doesn’t matter, dear lady; indeed, tell me during lunch; I won’t miss a single bite, not a single word, so now then.”
“That is,” Anna Pavlovna began when they had brought lunch, and Anton Ivanych had sat down at table, “so I dreamed…”
“But look, aren’t you too going to eat?” asked Anton Ivanych.
“Oh my! How could I think of eating now! I couldn’t swallow a bite, I didn’t finish even a cup of tea just now. So I dreamed that I was sitting like this, and there in front of me stood Agrafena with a tray. I dreamed I said to her, ‘How is it,’ I said, ‘that tray you have is empty,’ but she didn’t answer and kept looking at the door. ‘Oh, goodness!’ I thought to myself in my dream, ‘why is she staring over there?’ So I too began looking that way. I looked and suddenly Sashenka came in, so sad, came up to me and said, yes, just as if I weren’t dreaming, he said, ‘Farewell, dear Mama, I’m going far away, look there,’ and pointed to the lake, and ‘I won’t come back any more,’ he said. ‘Where are you going, my dear?’ I asked, but my heart so ached. I dreamed he didn’t answer, but only looked at me so strangely and pitifully. ‘So where have you come from, darling?’ I thought I asked again. And he sighed deeply and again pointed to the lake. ‘From the depths,’ he said almost inaudibly, ‘from the water folk.’ I was then so wholly shaken–and I woke up. My pillow was all wet with tears. And now that I’m awake, I can’t get hold of myself. I sat on my bed and just wept. I was flooded in tears and wept. As soon as I got up, I immediately set the little lamp to glimmering in front of the Virgin of Kazan. Perhaps her merciful intercession will keep him from all sorts of misfortunes and calamities. Such doubts came over me, really! I can’t understand; what might this have meant? Hasn’t something happened to him? What a storm…”
“It’s all right, dear lady, to weep in a dream; it’s a good sign!” said Anton Ivanych, cracking an egg against his plate. “He’ll be here tomorrow without fail.”
“But I was just thinking, shouldn’t we go after lunch as far as the grove to meet him. Somehow we’d get through to there. You see how awfully muddy it’s suddenly gotten there.”
“No, he won’t be here today; I have a sign!”
At this minute the wind brought the distant sound of troika bells, which then suddenly ceased. Anna Pavlovna held her breath.
“Oh!” she said, relieving her heart with a sigh, “and I was just thinking…”
Suddenly again.
“Heavens, goodness! Isn’t that troika bells?” she said and rushed to the balcony.
“No,” answered Anton Ivanych, “it’s a colt with bells round its neck grazing quite near here. I saw it on my way. I even shooed it, or it would have gotten into the rye. Why don’t you have it hobbled?”
Suddenly the bells began to sound as if right under the balcony and flooded in louder and louder.
“Oh, dear Sir! It’s really so; he’s coming, coming here! It’s really he!” cried Anna Pavlovna. “Oh, oh! Run, Anton Ivanych! Where are the servants? Where’s Agrafena? No one’s here! As if he were coming to a strange house, goodness!”
She quite lost control. And the bells rang as if in the room with them.
Anton Ivanych jumped up from his chair.
“It’s he! Yes!” cried Anton Ivanych. “There’s Evsei too on the driver’s seat! Where’s your icon, bread and salt? It’s a sign… What kind of confusion is this here! No one would have thought! And you, Anna Pavlovna, what are you doing, just standing there, not going to meet him? Run fast!”
“I can’t!” she managed to say with difficulty, “my legs are paralyzed.”
With these words she sank into a chair. Anton Ivanych snatched up a slice of bread from the table, put it on a plate, stood a saltshaker beside it and was about to rush to the door.
“Nothing is prepared!” he grumbled.
But into the same door to meet him three lackeys and two maids burst in. “He’s coming! He’s coming! He’s arrived!” they cried, pale and frightened as if robbers had come.
Following behind them, Alexander too appeared.
“Sashenka! You, my dear!…” exclaimed Anna Pavlovna and suddenly stopped and looked at Alexander in amazement.
“But where is Sashenka?” she asked.
“Why, it’s me, Mama dear!” he answered, kissing her hand.
“You?” She took a good look at him. “You, is it really you, my dear?” she said and warmly embraced him. Then suddenly she looked at him again.
“Why, what’s the matter with you? Are you not well?” she asked, worried, not releasing him from her embraces.
“I’m fine, Mama dear.”
“Fine! But what has happened to you, my darling. Did I send you away like this?”
She pressed him to her heart and began to cry bitterly. She kissed him on the head, the cheeks, the eyes.
“Where is your hair? It was like silk!” she added through her tears. “Your eyes shone like two stars, your cheeks were blood-red and milk-white, you were altogether like a ripe apple! Evidently wicked people got hold of you, envied your good looks a
nd my happiness. Didn’t your uncle look out for you? And I even thought I handed you from my hands to his as to a sensible person! He didn’t know how to keep my treasure! You, my darling…”
The old woman wept and rained caresses on Alexander.
“Obviously to dream of tears leads to no good!” thought Anton Ivanych. “What is this you’re doing, dear lady, wailing over him as if he were dead,” he whispered, “it’s no good, a bad sign.” Aloud he said, “Greetings, Alexander Fyodorych! God has brought about your return and our meeting again in this world.”
In silence Alexander gave him his hand. Anton Ivanych went to see whether they had taken everything out of the cart; then he began to call together the servants to greet the master. But they already were all crowded into the entry and vestibule. He lined them all up and instructed them how to greet the master, who was to kiss the master’s hand, who his shoulder, who only the hem of his clothing and what to say the while. They chased one boy away altogether, telling him, “First go and wash your face and wipe your nose.”
Evsei, wearing a strap as a belt and covered with dust, greeted the servants, who surrounded him. He gave them presents from St. Petersburg, to one a silver ring, to another a birch tobacco box. On seeing Agrafena, he stopped as if turned to stone and looked at her silently with stupid delight. She looked at him from the side, scowling, but immediately betrayed herself; she laughed for joy, then was about to begin crying, then suddenly turned away and frowned. “Why don’t you speak?” she said. “Such an idiot, doesn’t even greet me!”
But he couldn’t say anything. With the same stupid smile he went up to her. She hardly let him embrace her.
“See what the Devil’s brought home,” she said angrily, looking at him on the sly from time to time, but in her eyes and smile she expressed greatest joy. “So those Petersburg folk have turned your heads, your master’s and yours. What a little mustache you’ve grown!”
He took from his pocket a little paper box and gave it to her. In it were bronze earrings. Then he got a package out of a bag in which a big scarf was wrapped.
She seized both the one and the other and without looking at them, thrust them into a cupboard.
“Show us your presents, Agrafena Ivanovna,” said several of the servants.
“What is there to look at? Haven’t you ever seen anything? Go away from here! Why have you crowded in here?” she cried at them.
“Here’s one more!” said Evsei, giving her another package
“Show us, show us!” insisted several.
Agrafena tore the paper and several packs of used, but still almost new cards were strewn from it.
“Look what he found to bring me!” said Agrafena. “Do you think I have nothing to do but play cards? Really! Did you think I was going to play with you!”
She hid the cards too. An hour later Evsei was again sitting in his old place between the table and the stove.
“Heavens! What peace!” he said, now drawing up, now stretching out his legs. “Is this all they do here? But with us in Petersburg it’s simply a slave’s life! Isn’t there something to eat, Agrafena Ivanovna? We haven’t eaten anything since the last post stop.”
“You haven’t lost your old habit? Really! How you fall upon it; clearly they didn’t really feed you there.”
Alexander went through all the rooms and then the garden, stopping at every bush, every bench. His mother accompanied him. Her gaze was fixed on his pale face, she kept sighing but was afraid to cry. Anton Ivanych had frightened her. She questioned her son about his life, but could not learn the reasons why he’d become thin and pale, and where his hair had disappeared to. She invited him to eat and drink, but refusing everything, he said he was weary from travelling and wanted to sleep.
Anna Pavlovna looked to see whether the bed was well made, scolded the maid that it was hard, had her make it again in her presence and didn’t go away until Alexander had lain down. She went out on tiptoe, threatened the servants so they wouldn’t dare speak out loud, or breathe, and would walk without shoes. Then she sent for Evsei. Agrafena came with him too. Evsei bowed to the mistress and kissed her hand.
“Whatever has happened to Sashenka?” she asked in a threatening manner. “Why has he changed so, huh?”
Evsei was silent.
“Why are you silent?” said Agrafena. “Do you hear, the mistress is asking you?”
“Why has he gotten so thin?” said Anna Pavlovna. “Where has his pretty hair gone?”
“I can’t say, Madam!” said Evsei, “that’s a question for the master!”
“You can’t say! Then which way were you looking?”
Evsei didn’t know what to say and didn’t answer.
“You found someone trustworthy, Ma’am,” said Agrafena, looking lovingly at Evsei. “Be good now! What did you do there? Tell the mistress! Or she’ll give it to you!”
“Are you saying, Ma’am, I didn’t do my best!” said Evsei fearfully, looking now at the mistress, now at Agrafena. “I served in good faith and truth; just ask Arkhipych…”
“What Arkhipych?”
“The doorman there.”
“Really, how he hedges!” remarked Agrafena. “Why do you listen to him, Ma’am! You should shut him up in the shed, then he’d begin to talk!”
“I’m ready not just to do my masters’ bidding,” Evsei went on. “I’d even die on the spot. I’ll swear on the icon…”
“You’re all good with words,” said Anna Pavlovna, “but when it comes to doing deeds, then you’re not there! Clearly you looked after your master well–you allowed my darling to lose his health. You looked after him! I’ll teach you…”
She threatened him.
“You mean I didn’t, Ma’am? In eight years only one shirt got lost, and thanks to me, the worn ones are mended.”
“Where did it go to?” angrily asked Anna Pavlovna.
“It got lost at the laundress’s. I reported it at the time to Alexander Fyodorych, so as to take off the cost from her pay, but he said nothing.”
“You see, scoundrel,” remarked Anna Pavlovna, “she was tempted to steal good linen!”
“How could I not take care!” continued Evsei. “May God give that everyone do his duty as I did. The master’d still be asleep and I would already have run to the bakery and back…”
“What rolls did he eat?”
“White ones, good ones.”
“I know, white, but were they the rich milk rolls?”
“Look, what a blockhead!” said Agrafena, “he doesn’t even know how to say words sensibly, though he’s lived in the capital!”
“By no means, Ma’am,” answered Evsei, “hard rolls.”
“Hard rolls! Oh, you villain! murderer, robber!” said Anna Pavlovna, reddening with anger. “So you didn’t think to buy him milk rolls? And you were taking care!”
“But the master, Ma’am, didn’t order…”
“Didn’t order! To my darling it’s all the same; whatever you put before him, he’ll eat. And you didn’t think about that? Did you really forget that he always ate milk rolls here? To buy him hard rolls! Really, did you stash the money some other place? I’ll show you! Well, what else? Speak…”
“Then, when he finished breakfast,” Evsei continued, intimidated, “he’d go to work and I’d get his boots. I’d keep polishing them the whole morning, always again and again, sometimes all of three times. When he’d take them off in the evening–I’d clean them again. How, Ma’am, can you say I didn’t take care of him? Why, I didn’t see such boots on any of the gentlemen. Pyotr Ivanych’s were worse polished, though he has three lackeys.”
“Why is he this way then?” said Anna Pavlovna, softened.
“It must be from writing, Ma’am.”
“Did he write a lot?”
“A lot, every day.”
“What did he write then? Some kind of documents probably, weren’t they?”
“Must have been, Ma’am, documents.”
“And
why didn’t you restrain him?”
“I did, Ma’am. ‘Don’t sit there, Alexander Fyodorych,’ I’d say. ‘Why don’t you go for a walk? The weather’s good, lots of gentlemen take walks. What’s this writing? You’ll hurt your lungs; your Mama will be angry…’”
“And what’d he say?”
“‘Go away,’ he’d say, ‘you’re a fool!’”
“And he’s right, a fool!” said Agrafena.
At this Evsei looked at her, then went on again looking at the mistress.
“But didn’t his uncle restrain him then?” asked Anna Pavlovna.
“Not he, Ma’am! He’d come, and if he found him idle, then he’d fall upon him. ‘What,’ he’d say, ‘you’re not doing anything? Here,’ he’d say, ‘you’re not in the country. You have to work,’ he’d say, ‘not lie on your side! You’re always dreaming!’ he’d say. And then he’d give him a good scolding besides…”
“How did he scold?”
“‘Provincial…’ he’d say… and go on and on… he’d scold so that sometimes I wouldn’t listen.”
“A plague on him!” said Anna Pavlovna, spitting. “Give him some rascals of his own to rail at! My boy needed holding back… Heavens, goodness, merciful Lord!” she exclaimed, “whom can you count on nowadays if even your own relatives are worse than a wild beast? Even a dog shields its pups, and there an uncle works his blood nephew to death. And you, big fool that you are, couldn’t tell his uncle not to bark that way at the master, but leave him alone. Let him yell at his own wife, the wench! You see he found someone to abuse! ‘Work, work!’ Let him die at his work himself! He’s truly a dog, God forgive me! He found a slave to work!”
After this there was silence.
“Has Sashenka been this thin for long?” she then asked.
“About three years now,” answered Evsei. “Alexander Fyodorych began to feel quite down and didn’t eat much… Suddenly he began to lose weight and more weight; he melted away like a candle.”
“Why did he feel so down?”
An Ordinary Story Page 34
