“God knows, Ma’am. Pyotr Ivanych deigned to say something to him about that. I would have listened, but it was beyond me; I made no sense of it.”
“But what did he say?”
Evsei thought for a minute, trying, evidently, to remember and moving his lips.
“He called him something, but I’ve forgotten what…”
Anna Pavlovna and Agrafena looked at him and awaited the answer with impatience
“Well?..” said Anna Pavlovna.
Evsei was silent.
“So, simpleton, say something,” added Agrafena, “the mistress is waiting.”
“Dis… I think, disill… disillu… sioned…” Evsei got out at last.
Anna Pavlovna looked with amazement at Agrafena, Agrafena at Evsei, Evsei at both, and all three were silent.
“What’s that?” asked Anna Pavlovna.
“Disill… disillusioned, that’s it, I remembered!” answered Evsei in a decisive voice.
“What kind of calamity is that now? Heavens! Is it a sickness perhaps?” asked Anna Pavlovna with sadness.
“Oh, dear, it doesn’t mean depraved maybe, Ma’am?” Agrafena hastily blurted out.
Anna Pavlovna turned pale and spat.
“How can you say such a thing!” she said. “Did he go to church?”
Evsei became slightly embarrassed.
“You can’t say, Ma’am, that he went a lot…,” he answered indecisively. “You can almost even say that he didn’t go… The gentle folk there, all respect to them, don’t go to church much…”
“Well, that’s the reason!” said Anna Pavlovna with a sigh and crossed herself. “Clearly my prayers alone were not enough for God. My dream did not lie: my darling has been in the very depths!”
Now Anton Ivanych came in.
“Dinner will get cold, Anna Pavlovna,” he said. “Isn’t it time to wake Alexander Fyodorych?”
“No, no, Heaven forbid!” she answered. “He said not to. ‘Eat without me,’ he said. ‘I have no appetite. It’s better for me to sleep,’ he said. ‘Sleep will strengthen me. Perhaps I’ll want something by evening.’ So, here’s what you do, Anton Ivanych: don’t be angry with me, an old woman; I’ll light the lamp before the icon and pray while Sashenka is napping. I don’t feel like eating, but you have dinner by yourself.”
“Good, dear lady, good. I’ll do as you ask; count on me.”
“But please do me a favor,” she continued. “You are our friend and love us so much. Call in Evsei and question him properly why Sashenka has become thoughtful and thin, and why he’s lost his hair? You’re a man. It’ll be easier for you… Did they offend him there? After all, there are such villains in the world… Find out everything.”
“Good, dear lady, good; I’ll get it all out of him, find out everything. Send Evsei to me while I’m eating–I’ll do everything you ask!”
“Good day, Evsei,” he said, sitting down at table and thrusting his napkin behind his tie, “how are you?”
“Good day, Sir. How did we live there? Not well. But you prospered here.”
Anton Ivanych spat. “Don’t criticize your betters, fellow. It’s easy to go too far,” he added and began to eat his soup. “Well, how did you get on there?” he asked.
“So-so, not terribly well.”
“Good food, I bet? What did you eat?”
“What, Sir? At the store you buy some cold meat in aspic and some cold meat pie–and that’s dinner!”
“Why at the store? And your own oven?”
“They didn’t cook at home. Bachelors there don’t cook.”
“You don’t say!” said Anton Ivanych, putting down his spoon.
“That’s right, Sir. And they brought the master’s dinner from a restaurant.”
“What a gypsy way of life! Oh, how could he help getting thin! Here, have a drink on me!”
“I thank you most humbly, Sir! I shall drink to your health!”
A silence followed. Anton Ivanych ate.
“What do cucumbers cost there?” he asked, putting a cucumber on his plate.
“Ten for forty kopecks.”
“Really?”
“I swear it, Sir, and that’s not all, Sir. Shameful to say, but sometimes they send in pickles from Moscow.”
“You don’t say, Heavens! Well, how can anyone help getting thin!”
“Where would you find there a cucumber like that!” Evsei went on, pointing to a cucumber, “you wouldn’t even dream of such! They’re tiny things, rubbish there. Here you wouldn’t even look at them, but gentlemen eat them there. It’s a rare house, Sir, that bakes bread. Putting up cabbage in vinegar, or beef in brine, bottling mushrooms–they do none of that there.”
Anton Ivanych shook his head, but said nothing because he had stuffed his mouth full. “How do they live then?” he asked, chewing.
“There’s everything at the store. And what’s not in that store is somewhere in a deli, and what isn’t there is in a pastry shop, and if you don’t find it there, go to the English store–and the French have everything!”
Silence.
“So, how much for young pigs?” asked Anton Ivanych, serving himself almost half one.
“I don’t know, Sir. We didn’t buy them. Some high price, two rubles maybe.”
“Oh my, my, my! How could you help getting thin! What high prices!”
“Good families don’t eat them much, it’s more the government clerks who do.”
Again silence.
“So then you did live badly there?” asked Anton Ivanych.
“May you never have it so bad! The beer there is even thinner than the kvas here. From having kvas in your belly all day it’s like something boiling! The only good thing there is the boot polish, it’s so good you can’t admire it enough, and a wonderful smell, good enough to eat!”
“You don’t say!”
“I swear to God!”
Silence.
“So, that’s the way it is?” asked Anton Ivanych, chewing thoroughly.
“Yes, it is, Sir.”
“You ate badly?”
“Badly. Alexander Fyodorych ate that way and very little. He quite lost the habit of eating. For dinner there they don’t eat even a pound of bread.”
“How could you help getting thin!” said Anton Ivanych. “All because it’s expensive, is it?”
“It’s expensive too, Sir, but also there is no custom of eating your fill every day. Gentlemen eat, so to speak, on the sly once a day, and then, if they manage it, around five o’clock, sometimes at six they snatch a bite and let it go at that. For them that’s the last thing they think of. First they finish all their business, and then, indeed, they eat.”
“What a way to live!” said Anton Ivanych. “How could you help getting thin! It’s a wonder you didn’t die there. And the whole time was like that?”
“No, Sir. On holidays the masters, when they sometimes gather, Heaven forbid, how they eat! They’ll drive to some German restaurant, and, do you hear, eat up a hundred rubles worth. And what they drink–God keep us!–worse than we ever do! Sometimes at Pyotr Ivanych’s there’d be guests. They’d sit down at table around six and get up from it at four in the morning.”
Anton Ivanych opened his eyes wide.
“What you do say!” he said, “and they eat all that time?”
“They eat all that time.”
“It’d be worth seeing; it’s not our way! What do they eat?”
“What, indeed, Sir. Nothing to look at! You can’t tell what you’re eating. The Germans put God knows what in their food; you wouldn’t want to take it in your mouth. Even the pepper isn’t the same there. They pour into the gravy something out of foreign vials… Once Pyotr Ivanych’s cook treated me to gentlemen’s food and I was nauseated for three days. I look, there’s an olive in the food; I thought, like an olive here too, I bite into it–look, but it’s a tiny little fish. I began to feel sick, spat it out, took another–there, too, the same thing, yes, and in all of them�
� oh dear! Devil take the cursed fellows!”
“Are you saying they put this in intentionally?”
“Heaven knows! I asked and the boys just laugh; they say, ‘Listen, that’s the way it comes.’ But what kind of food is it? They begin, as is proper, by serving a hot dish with pirogi, only they’re are as small as a thimble. You put around six in your mouth at once, try to chew them; you look–they’re gone, melted away… After the hot dish they suddenly serve something sweet, then beef, and then something frozen and then some kind of grass and then the roast… and I couldn’t eat it.”
“So the stove wasn’t heated for cooking at your house? Well, how could you not get thin!” said Anton Ivanych, getting up from table.
“I thank you, my God,” he began aloud with a deep sigh, “that you have fed me with these heavenly gifts–what’s the matter with me, that’s a slip of the tongue: earthly gifts–and don’t deprive me of your heavenly kingdom.”
“Clear the table; the masters won’t have dinner. For this evening prepare another little pig… or isn’t there a turkey? Alexander Fyodorych likes turkey; I expect he’s hungry. And now bring me a bit of fresh hay to the little attic room; I’ll rest for an hour or so, then wake me for tea. If Alexander Fyodorych so much as stirs, make sure you wake me.”
When he got up from his nap, he went to see Anna Pavlovna.
“Well, what did you learn, Anton Ivanych?” she asked.
“Nothing, dear lady. I humbly thank you for the hospitality… and I slept so sweetly. The hay was so fresh, fragrant…”
“Your health, Anton Ivanych. So, what does Evsei say? You asked him?”
“How could I not ask! I learned everything: it’s nothing! Everything will correct itself! The whole thing, it seems, comes from the bad food there.”
“The food?”
“Yes, judge for yourself: the cucumbers forty kopecks for ten, a baby pig two rubles, and all the food from the pastry shop, and you don’t eat your fill. How could you help getting thin? Don’t worry, dear lady, we’ll get him back on his feet, we’ll cure him. Have more birch liqueur made; I’ll give you the recipe, I got it from Prokof Astafich; so give him a wine glass or two morning and evening, and it’s good before dinner; possibly with holy water… do you have some?”
“I have some, indeed; you brought it.”
“Yes, I do remember I did. Choose food with more fat. I ordered a young pig or turkey roasted for supper.”
“Thank you, Anton Ivanych.”
“You’re welcome, dear lady. Shouldn’t you order pullets in white sauce too?…”
“I will…”
“Why must you do it yourself? What am I there for? I’ll take care of it… let me.”
“Do take care of it, you help me like one of the family.”
He went out and she thought about it.
Her woman’s instinct and mother’s heart told her food was not the main reason for Alexander’s pensiveness. She began with wily, slant allusions to find out the cause, but Alexander did not understand her allusions and did not answer. So two or three weeks passed. A great many young pigs, chickens and turkeys went their way in Anton Ivanych’s direction, but Alexander was still pensive and thin, and his hair did not grow.
Then Anna Pavlovna decided to have a direct talk with him.
“Listen, my dear Sashenka,” she said one day, “you’ve been here a month now and I haven’t seen you smile even once. You walk around like a dark cloud, you look at the ground. Or is nothing dear to you here in the place where you were born? Apparently a foreign place was dearer. Are you homesick for there perhaps? My heart breaks when I look at you. What has happened to you? Tell me: What do you need? I will spare nothing to get it. If someone has offended you, I’ll take care of him.”
“Don’t worry, dear Mama,” said Alexander. “It’s just the way it is, nothing’s wrong! I’ve grown up, become more reasonable, and for that reason, more thoughtful…
“But why thin? And where’s your hair?”
“I can’t say why… You can’t tell all that’s happened in eight years… Perhaps my health has suffered a little…”
“What pains you?”
“I have pains both here and there.” He pointed to head and heart. Anna Pavlovna felt his forehead with her hand.
“You don’t have any fever,” she said. “What ever was this? Does your head throb?”
“No… really…”
“Sashenka! Let’s send for Ivan Andreich.”
“Who’s Ivan Andreich?”
“A new doctor; it’s two years since he came. He’s really a marvelous doctor! He prescribes almost no medicines. He makes some kind of tiny little pills himself–and they help. Here our Foma suffered from stomach trouble; three days and nights he howled to high heaven. The doctor gave him three tiny pills and like magic the pain was gone! See the doctor, darling!”
“No, Mama dear, he won’t help me. This will go away by itself.”
“But why are you so tired of life? What is this misfortune?”
“It’s just that way…”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know myself. I’m just bored.”
“How very strange, Heavens!” said Anna Pavlovna. “You like the food, you say; you have all the comforts and you have a good rank… What else perhaps? But you’re bored! Sashenka,” she said quietly after a moment’s silence, “isn’t it time for you… to get married?”
“What do you mean! No, I’m not getting married.”
“But I have a girl in mind–pretty as a doll, a pink, tender little thing, so thin you can almost see through her. Such a slender shapely little waist. She went to a boarding school in the city, owns seventy-five serfs and has twenty-five thousand cash and a splendid trousseau, made in Moscow, and she’s of good family… What about it? Sashenka? I’ve already talked with her mother at coffee, and joking, threw out a word. She seemed to prick up her ears for joy…”
“I’m not getting married,” repeated Alexander.
“What, never?”
“Never.”
“Heaven have mercy! What will come of that? We’re all human; but you alone are like God knows what! It would be such a joy for me! If only God would send me grandchildren to fuss over. Really, marry her; you’ll fall in love with her…”
“I won’t fall in love, Mama dear; I’ve already fallen out of love.”
“How could you fall out of love without marrying? Whom did you love there?”
“A girl.”
“Why didn’t you marry her?”
“She betrayed me.”
“How could she betray you? You weren’t yet married to her!”
Alexander was silent.
“Fine girls you have there: they love before marriage! She betrayed you! What a loathsome creature! Happiness itself was within her grasp, and she didn’t know how to appreciate it, the good-for-nothing! If I’d seem her, I’d have spit in her face. What did your uncle think? Who was it she found better, that I’d like to see… But what of it, is she the only one in the world? You’ll fall in love again.”
“I did love another time.”
“Whom?”
“A widow.”
“Well, and why didn’t you marry her?”
“I betrayed her.”
Anna Pavlovna looked at Alexander and didn’t know what to say.
“You betrayed!” she repeated. “Obviously some kind of loose woman!” she then added. “It’s a real pitfall there, God forgive me. They love before marriage without a church ceremony, they betray… What does go on in this world as soon as you look closely! Clearly the Last Judgment is coming… Well, tell me, don’t you want anything! Perhaps the food is not to your taste? I’ll send for a cook from the city…”
“No, thank you; everything’s fine.”
“Perhaps you’re bored all by yourself; I’ll send for neighbors.”
“No, no. Don’t get excited, Mama dear! It’s quiet for me here, it’s fine. It will all
pass… I haven’t got my bearings yet.”
This was all Anna Pavlovna could achieve.
“No,” she thought. “Without God clearly you don’t get anywhere.” She suggested that Alexander drive with her to communion in the nearest village, but he overslept twice, and she could not bring herself to wake him. Finally she invited him to go to evening mass. “Fine,” said Alexander, and they went. His mother quickly entered the church and took her place at the very front. Alexander remained standing at the door.
The sun had started to set and was throwing slanting rays, which now played on the golden frames of the icons, now lit the dark and severe countenances of the saints and with its splendor completely obscured the weak and tentative flickering of the candles. The church was almost empty. The peasants were at work in the fields. Only in the corner at the exit were a few old women crowded together, their heads tied with white handkerchiefs. Others, mourning and resting cheek in hand, sat on the stone step of the side altar and from time to time emitted loud and heavy sighs, Heaven knows whether about their own sins or about domestic affairs. Others had fallen to the ground and lay prostrate for a long time praying.
The fresh little breeze which came through the iron screen on the window would partly raise the cloth on the altar, or play with the priest’s gray hair, turn a page in the book and extinguish the candle. The footsteps of the priest and deacon reverberated loudly over the stone floor in the empty church; their voices resounded wearily in the vaults. On high in the cupola the daws cried resonantly and the sparrows chirped, flying across from one window to another, and the noise of their wings and ringing of the bells sometimes drowned out the service…
“As long as a man’s life forces are in turmoil,” thought Alexander, “as long as his wishes and passions are in play and he’s alive emotionally, he flees the soothing, meaningful and solemn perceptions to which religion leads. He comes looking for comfort in it with waning, spent forces, wrecked hopes, with the burden of years…”
Little by little at the sight of familiar objects recollections awakened in Alexander’s soul. He ran through his childhood and youth up to the trip to Petersburg, remembered how, as a child, he repeated prayers after his mother, how she assured him a guardian angel stands on watch for a human soul and eternally fights with the Evil One, how, pointing to the stars, she told him they were the eyes of God’s angels who look at the world and count the good and evil deeds of people, how the dwellers in Heaven weep when there are more evil deeds than good deeds, and how they rejoice when the good deeds exceed the evil ones. Showing him the blue of the distant horizon, she said that was Zion… Alexander sighed, as he came to from these recollections.
An Ordinary Story Page 35
