Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories

by Иван Тургенев

  VIII

  Luckily Trankvillitatin was away from the town at the time: he could

  not come to us before the next day; I must take advantage of the

  night! My aunt did not lock her bedroom door and, indeed, none of the

  keys in the house would turn in the locks; but where would she put the

  watch, where would she hide it? She kept it in her pocket till the

  evening and even took it out and looked at it more than once; but at

  night--where would it be at night?--Well, that was just my work to

  find out, I thought, shaking my fists.

  I was burning with boldness and terror and joy at the thought of the

  approaching crime. I was continually nodding to myself; I knitted my

  brows. I whispered: "Wait a bit!" I threatened someone, I was wicked,

  I was dangerous ... and I avoided David!--no one, not even he, must

  have the slightest suspicion of what I meant to do....

  I would act alone and alone I would answer for it!

  Slowly the day lagged by, then the evening, at last the night came. I

  did nothing; I even tried not to move: one thought was stuck in my

  head like a nail. At dinner my father, who was, as I have said,

  naturally gentle, and who was a little ashamed of his harshness--boys

  of sixteen are not slapped in the face--tried to be affectionate to

  me; but I rejected his overtures, not from slowness to forgive, as he

  imagined at the time, but simply that I was afraid of my feelings

  getting the better of me; I wanted to preserve untouched all the heat

  of my vengeance, all the hardness of unalterable determination. I went

  to bed very early; but of course I did not sleep and did not even shut

  my eyes, but on the contrary opened them wide, though I did pull the

  quilt over my head. I did not consider beforehand how to act. I had no

  plan of any kind; I only waited till everything should be quiet in the

  house. I only took one step: I did not remove my stockings. My aunt's

  room was on the second floor. One had to pass through the dining-room

  and the hall, go up the stairs, pass along a little passage and

  there ... on the right was the door! I must not on any account take

  with me a candle or a lantern; in the corner of my aunt's room a little

  lamp was always burning before the ikon shrine; I knew that. So I

  should be able to see. I still lay with staring eyes and my mouth open

  and parched; the blood was throbbing in my temples, in my ears, in my

  throat, in my back, all over me! I waited ... but it seemed as though

  some demon were mocking me; time passed and passed but still silence

  did not reign.

  IX

  Never, I thought, had David been so late getting to sleep.... David,

  the silent David, even began talking to me! Never had they gone on so

  long banging, talking, walking about the house! And what could they be

  talking about? I wondered; as though they had not had the whole day to

  talk in! Sounds outside persisted, too; first a dog barked on a

  shrill, obstinate note; then a drunken peasant was making an uproar

  somewhere and would not be pacified; then gates kept creaking; then a

  wretched cart on racketty wheels kept passing and passing and seeming

  as though it would never pass! However, these sounds did not worry me:

  on the contrary, I was glad of them; they seemed to distract my

  attention. But now at last it seemed as though all were tranquil. Only

  the pendulum of our old clock ticked gravely and drowsily in the

  dining-room and there was an even drawn-out sound like the hard

  breathing of people asleep. I was on the point of getting up, then

  again something rustled ... then suddenly sighed, something soft fell

  down ... and a whisper glided along the walls.

  Or was there nothing of the sort--and was it only imagination mocking

  me?

  At last all was still. It was the very heart, the very dead of night.

  The time had come! Chill with anticipation, I threw off the

  bedclothes, let my feet down to the floor, stood up ... one step; a

  second.... I stole along, my feet, heavy as though they did not belong

  to me, trod feebly and uncertainly. Stay! what was that sound? Someone

  sawing, somewhere, or scraping ... or sighing? I listened ... I felt my

  cheeks twitching and cold watery tears came into my eyes. Nothing! ...

  I stole on again. It was dark but I knew the way. All at once I

  stumbled against a chair.... What a bang and how it hurt! It hit me

  just on my leg.... I stood stock still. Well, did that wake them? Ah!

  here goes! Suddenly I felt bold and even spiteful. On! On! Now the

  dining-room was crossed, then the door was groped for and opened at

  one swing. The cursed hinge squeaked, bother it! Then I went up the

  stairs, one! two! one! two! A step creaked under my foot; I looked at

  it spitefully, just as though I could see it. Then I stretched for the

  handle of another door. This one made not the slightest sound! It flew

  open so easily, as though to say, "Pray walk in." ... And now I was in

  the corridor!

  In the corridor there was a little window high up under the ceiling, a

  faint light filtered in through the dark panes. And in that glimmer of

  light I could see our little errand girl lying on the floor on a mat,

  both arms behind her tousled head; she was sound asleep, breathing

  rapidly and the fatal door was just behind her head. I stepped across

  the mat, across the girl ... who opened that door? ... I don't know,

  but there I was in my aunt's room. There was the little lamp in one

  corner and the bed in the other and my aunt in her cap and night

  jacket on the bed with her face towards me. She was asleep, she did

  not stir, I could not even hear her breathing. The flame of the little

  lamp softly flickered, stirred by the draught of fresh air, and

  shadows stirred all over the room, even over the motionless wax-like

  yellow face of my aunt....

  And there was the watch! It was hanging on a little embroidered

  cushion on the wall behind the bed. What luck, only think of it!

  Nothing to delay me! But whose steps were those, soft and rapid behind

  my back? Oh! no! it was my heart beating! ... I moved my legs

  forward.... Good God! something round and rather large pushed against

  me below my knee, once and again! I was ready to scream, I was ready

  to drop with horror.... A striped cat, our own cat, was standing

  before me arching his back and wagging his tail. Then he leapt on the

  bed--softly and heavily--turned round and sat without purring, exactly

  like a judge; he sat and looked at me with his golden pupils. "Puss,

  puss," I whispered, hardly audibly. I bent across my aunt, I had

  already snatched the watch. She suddenly sat up and opened her eyelids

  wide.... Heavenly Father, what next? ... but her eyelids quivered and

  closed and with a faint murmur her head sank on the pillow.

  A minute later I was back again in my own room, in my own bed and the

  watch was in my hands....

  More lightly than a feather I flew back! I was a fine fellow, I was a

  thief, I was a hero, I was gasping with delight, I was hot, I was

  gleeful--I wanted to wake David at once to tell him all about it--and,


  incredible as it sounds, I fell asleep and slept like the dead! At

  last I opened my eyes.... It was light in the room, the sun had risen.

  Luckily no one was awake yet. I jumped up as though I had been

  scalded, woke David and told him all about it. He listened, smiled.

  "Do you know what?" he said to me at last, "let's bury the silly watch

  in the earth, so that it may never be seen again." I thought his idea

  best of all. In a few minutes we were both dressed; we ran out into

  the orchard behind our house and under an old apple tree in a deep

  hole, hurriedly scooped out in the soft, springy earth with David's

  big knife, my godfather's hated present was hidden forever, so that it

  never got into the hands of the disgusting Trankvillitatin after all!

  We stamped down the hole, strewed rubbish over it and, proud and

  happy, unnoticed by anyone, went home again, got into our beds and

  slept another hour or two--and such a light and blissful sleep!

  X

  You can imagine the uproar there was that morning, as soon as my aunt

  woke up and missed the watch! Her piercing shriek is ringing in my

  ears to this day. "Help! Robbed! Robbed!" she squealed, and alarmed

  the whole household. She was furious, while David and I only smiled to

  ourselves and sweet was our smile to us. "Everyone, everyone must be

  well thrashed!" bawled my aunt. "The watch has been stolen from under

  my head, from under my pillow!" We were prepared for anything, we

  expected trouble.... But contrary to our expectations we did not get

  into trouble at all. My father certainly did fume dreadfully at first,

  he even talked of the police; but I suppose he was bored with the

  enquiry of the day before and suddenly, to my aunt's indescribable

  amazement, he flew out not against us but against her.

  "You sicken me worse than a bitter radish, Pelageya Petrovna," he

  shouted, "with your watch. I don't want to hear any more about it! It

  can't be lost by magic, you say, but what's it to do with me? It may

  be magic for all I care! Stolen from you? Well, good luck to it then!

  What will Nastasey Nastasyeitch say? Damnation take him, your

  Nastasyeitch! I get nothing but annoyances and unpleasantness from

  him! Don't dare to worry me again! Do you hear?"

  My father slammed the door and went off to his own room. David and I

  did not at first understand the allusion in his last words; but

  afterwards we found out that my father was just then violently

  indignant with my godfather, who had done him out of a profitable job.

  So my aunt was left looking a fool. She almost burst with vexation,

  but there was no help for it. She had to confine herself to repeating

  in a sharp whisper, twisting her mouth in my direction whenever she

  passed me, "Thief, thief, robber, scoundrel." My aunt's reproaches

  were a source of real enjoyment to me. It was very agreeable, too, as

  I crossed the flower-garden, to let my eye with assumed indifference

  glide over the very spot where the watch lay at rest under the

  apple-tree; and if David were close at hand to exchange a meaning

  grimace with him....

  My aunt tried setting Trankvillitatin upon me; but I appealed to

  David. He told the stalwart divinity student bluntly that he would rip

  up his belly with a knife if he did not leave me alone....

  Trankvillitatin was frightened; though, according to my aunt, he was a

  grenadier and a cavalier he was not remarkable for valour. So passed

  five weeks.... But do you imagine that the story of the watch ended

  there? No, it did not; only to continue my story I must introduce a

  new character; and to introduce that new character I must go back a

  little.

  XI

  My father had for many years been on very friendly, even intimate

  terms with a retired government clerk called Latkin, a lame little man

  in poor circumstances with queer, timid manners, one of those

  creatures of whom it is commonly said that they are crushed by God

  Himself. Like my father and Nastasey, he was engaged in the humbler

  class of legal work and acted as legal adviser and agent. But

  possessing neither a presentable appearance nor the gift of words and

  having little confidence in himself, he did not venture to act

  independently but attached himself to my father. His handwriting was

  "regular beadwork," he knew the law thoroughly and had mastered all

  the intricacies of the jargon of petitions and legal documents. He had

  managed various cases with my father and had shared with him gains and

  losses and it seemed as though nothing could shake their friendship,

  and yet it broke down in one day and forever. My father quarrelled

  with his colleague for good. If Latkin had snatched a profitable job

  from my father, after the fashion of Nastasey, who replaced him later

  on, my father would have been no more indignant with him than with

  Nastasey, probably less. But Latkin, under the influence of an

  unexplained, incomprehensible feeling, envy, greed--or perhaps even a

  momentary fit of honesty--"gave away" my father, betrayed him to their

  common client, a wealthy young merchant, opening this careless young

  man's eyes to a certain--well, piece of sharp practice, destined to

  bring my father considerable profit. It was not the money loss,

  however great--no--but the betrayal that wounded and infuriated my

  father; he could not forgive treachery.

  "So he sets himself up for a saint!" he repeated, trembling all over

  with anger, his teeth chattering as though he were in a fever. I

  happened to be in the room and was a witness of this ugly scene.

  "Good. Amen, from today. It's all over between us. There's the ikon

  and there's the door! Neither you in my house nor I in yours. You are

  too honest for us. How can we keep company with you? But may you have

  no house nor home!"

  It was in vain that Latkin entreated my father and bowed down before

  him; it was in vain that he tried to explain to him what filled his

  own soul with painful perplexity. "You know it was with no sort of

  profit to myself, Porfiry Petrovitch," he faltered: "why, I cut my own

  throat!" My father remained implacable. Latkin never set foot in our

  house again. Fate itself seemed determined to carry out my father's

  last cruel words. Soon after the rupture (which took place two years

  before the beginning of my story), Latkin's wife, who had, it is true,

  been ill for a long time, died; his second daughter, a child three

  years old, became deaf and dumb in one day from terror; a swarm of

  bees had settled on her head; Latkin himself had an apoplectic stroke

  and sank into extreme and hopeless poverty. How he struggled on, what

  he lived upon--it is hard to imagine. He lived in a dilapidated hovel

  at no great distance from our house. His elder daughter Raissa lived

  with him and kept house, so far as that was possible. This Raissa is

  the character whom I must now introduce into our story.

  XII