The Queen of Spades and Other Stories

by Alexander Pushkin

  Troyekurov’s time was generally spent in driving about his extensive estates, in festive eating and drinking, and in playing practical jokes, of which he would invent a fresh one daily, the victim usually being some new acquaintance, though his old friends could not count on escape, with the exception of one, Andrei Gavrilovich Dubrovsky. This Dubrovsky, a retired lieutenant of the Guards, was his nearest neighbour, and the owner of seventy male serfs. Troyekurov, haughty in his dealings with people of the highest rank, respected Dubrovsky in spite of his humble standing. They had once served together in the same regiment, and Troyekurov knew from experience what a short-tempered and strong-willed man Dubrovsky was. The events of the year 1762 of glorious memory1 parted them for a long time. Troyekurov, a relative of the Princess Dashkov,2 received rapid promotion; Dubrovsky, losing most of his fortune, was obliged to resign from the Service and settle down on the one estate he had left. Hearing of this, Kiril Petrovich offered him his patronage; but Dubrovsky thanked him and remained poor and independent. Some years later Troyekurov, retired with the rank of general, came to his country seat; the friends met again and rejoiced to see each other. After that they met every day, and Kiril Petrovich, who had never deigned to visit anybody in his life, would call without ceremony at his old comrade’s modest little home. They were of the same age, belonged to the same class by birth, had had the same upbringing, and were to some extent alike in their tastes and temperament. In certain respects their fates too had been similar: both had married for love, both had early become widowers, and both had been left with an only child. Dubrovsky’s son was away at school in Petersburg; Troyekurov’s daughter was being brought up under her father’s supervision, and Troyekurov often said to his friend: ‘You know, Dubrovsky, if your Volodya turns out well I’ll marry my Masha to him, even though he is as poor as a church mouse.’ Dubrovsky would shake his head and as likely as not reply, ‘No, my friend, my Volodya is no match for your daughter. A poor nobleman like him had much better marry a poor girl of good family, and be master in his own house, than become the henchman of some spoilt young woman.’

  Everyone envied the harmony that reigned between the haughty Troyekurov and his poor neighbour, and marvelled at the audacity with which the latter, at Troyekurov’s table, said just what he thought, not troubling whether his opinion was at variance with that of his host. Some would-be imitators tried to assert their independence too, but Troyekurov gave them such a lesson that they lost all inclination to repeat the experiment, leaving Dubrovsky the only exception to the general rule. Then an unexpected incident upset and altered everything.

  One day in the early autumn Kiril Petrovich Troyekurov prepared to go hunting. The grooms and huntsmen were told to be ready by five o’clock next morning. An oven and kitchen-things and a tent were sent on beforehand to the place where Kiril Petrovich was to have dinner. He and his visitors went to look at the kennels, where over five hundred hounds lived in warmth and comfort, singing praises in their canine tongue to Kiril Petrovich’s generosity. There was also a hospital for sick dogs under the care of Timoshka, who acted as staff-doctor, and a separate place where bitches could have their pups and suckle them. Kiril Petrovich was proud of his fine establishment, and never missed an opportunity to boast of it to his friends, each of whom had inspected it at least twenty times before. He walked through the kennels surrounded by his guests and accompanied by Timoshka and the head huntsman, inquiring after any of the hounds who were ill; giving some reprimand, more or less harsh and deserved; and calling a few of the hounds to him by name and speaking to them caressingly. His guests felt obliged to go into raptures over Kiril Petrovich’s kennels; Dubrovsky alone said nothing and frowned. He was a passionate sportsman, but he could only afford to keep a couple of hounds and a borzoi bitch, and could not help feeling a measure of envy at the sight of this magnificent establishment.

  ‘What are you frowning at, my dear fellow?’ Kiril Petrovich asked him. ‘Don’t you like my kennels?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Dubrovsky abruptly, ‘the kennels are wonderful, but I doubt whether your servants live as well as your dogs.’

  One of the kennel-men took offence.

  ‘We have nothing to complain of, thanks be to God and our master,’ he said, ‘but if the truth were known there’s a certain noble gentleman who might well exchange his manor-house for any one of these kennels: he would be warmer here and better fed.’

  Kiril Petrovich burst into a roar of laughter at his serf’s insolence, and his guests followed suit, although they felt that the quip might equally apply to them. Dubrovsky turned pale and was silent. Just then some new-born puppies were brought up to Kiril Petrovich in a basket; he looked them over, chose two out of the litter and ordered the rest to be drowned. In the meantime Dubrovsky disappeared, no one noticing him go.

  Back from the kennels with his guests, Kiril Petrovich sat down to supper, and it was only now that he missed Dubrovsky. The servants informed him that Dubrovsky had gone home. Troyekurov immediately instructed someone to fetch him back without fail. He never went hunting without Dubrovsky, who was a fine connoisseur of a dog’s points and an infallible arbiter in all possible disputes connected with sport. The servant dispatched after him returned while they were still at table and reported to his master that Dubrovsky had refused to listen and would not come. Kiril Petrovich, heated as usual with home-made brandy, lost his temper and sent the same servant a second time to tell Dubrovsky that unless he came at once to spend the night at Pokrovskoe he, Troyekurov, would have nothing more to do with him. The servant galloped off again. Kiril Petrovich rose from the table, dismissed his visitors and went to bed.

  The first thing he asked next day was, ‘Is Dubrovsky here?’ He was handed a letter folded in the shape of a triangle. Kiril Petrovich commanded his secretary to read it aloud, and heard the following:

  ‘My dear sir,

  I have no intention of returning to Pokrovskoe until you send your huntsman Paramoshka to me with an apology; and it will be for me to punish or forgive him as I see fit. I do not intend to put up with sallies from your serfs, or from yourself either for that matter: I am a gentleman of ancient lineage, not a buffoon.

  I remain,

  Your obedient servant,

  Andrei Dubrovsky’

  According to our present-day ideas of etiquette such a letter would be most unseemly. Kiril Petrovich, however, was angered not by its peculiar style and nature, but merely by its substance.

  ‘What!’ he shouted, springing barefoot out of bed. ‘Send my servants to him with an apology! For him to punish or forgive as he sees fit! What on earth has got into his head? He can’t know who he is dealing with! I’ll teach him a lesson! I’ll make him smart! He shall find out what it is to come up against Troyekurov!’

  Nevertheless Kiril Petrovich dressed and set out for the hunt with all his customary splendour. But the shoot was not a success: they only saw one hare the whole day, and it escaped. Dinner in the fields under the tent was no more successful – at least, it was not to the fancy of Kiril Petrovich, who struck the cook, quarrelled with his guests, and on the way home purposely rode with all his party across Dubrovsky’s fields.

  2

  SEVERAL days passed, and the animosity between the two neighbours persisted. Dubrovsky went no more to Pokrovskoe, and Kiril Petrovich, who missed him, vented his spleen by making the most offensive remarks which, thanks to the zeal of the local gentry, reached Dubrovsky’s ears improved and supplemented. A fresh incident destroyed the last hope of a reconciliation.

  One day Dubrovsky was going the round of his little estate; as he neared the birch copse he heard the blows of an axe and, a minute later, the crash of a falling tree. Hastening to the spot, he came on some of Troyekurov’s peasants calmly stealing his wood. Seeing him, they took to flight. Dubrovsky and his coachman caught two of them and, tying their arms, brought them home, at the same time capturing three of the enemy’s horses. Dubrovsky was exceedingly angry: hitherto
Troyekurov’s serfs, notorious rascals, had never dared to get up to their tricks on his estate, aware of his friendship with their master. Dubrovsky now perceived that they were taking advantage of the rupture between him and his neighbour, and, contrary to all the conventions of war, he decided to punish his prisoners with the twigs they had collected for themselves in his copse, and to put the horses to work in his fields along with his own.

  News of these events reached Kiril Petrovich the same day. He was beside himself with fury and at first wanted to attack Kistenyovka (as his neighbour’s village was called) with all his serfs, and, razing it to the ground, besiege the owner in his very house. Such exploits were nothing out of the way to him; but soon his thoughts took another direction. Pacing up and down the drawing-room with heavy steps, he happened to glance out of the window and see a troika stop at the gates. A little man in a leather travelling-cap and a frieze coat stepped out of the trap and proceeded towards the steward’s lodge. Troyekurov recognized Shabashkin, the assessor of the District Court, and sent for him. In a minute Shabashkin was standing before Kiril Petrovich, bowing repeatedly and respectfully waiting to hear what he wanted.

  ‘Good day to you… what is your name now?’ said Troyekurov. ‘What are you here for?’

  ‘I was on my way to town, your excellency,’ Shabashkin answered, ‘and calling at Ivan Demyanov’s to see if there were any orders from your excellency.’

  ‘You have come at the right moment…. What is your name now? I want you. Have a glass of vodka and listen.’

  Such a friendly reception pleasantly surprised the assessor. He declined the vodka and listened to Kiril Petrovich with every mark of attention.

  ‘I have a neighbour,’ said Troyekurov, ‘a petty landowner, an impudent fellow, and I want to take his estate from him…. What is your view about that?’

  ‘Your excellency, are there any documents or…’

  ‘Nonsense, my good man, what do you want with documents? The law deals with documents. The point is to take away his estate without regard to law and documents. Wait a minute, though! That estate did belong to us at one time. It was bought from a certain Spitsyn and sold afterwards to Dubrovsky’s father. Can’t you hang something on that?’

  ‘It’s difficult, your excellency; probably the sale was in order.’

  ‘Think, my good man. Try your utmost.’

  ‘If, for example, your excellency could somehow obtain from your neighbour the deeds in virtue of which he holds possession of his estate, then, of course…’

  ‘Yes, I know, but the trouble is, all his papers were burnt at the time of the fire.’

  ‘What, your excellency? His papers were burnt? Nothing could be better. In that case you have simply to take proceedings according to the law and without the slightest doubt everything can be arranged to your complete satisfaction.’

  ‘You think so? Well, mind then, I rely upon your zeal, and you can rest assured of my gratitude.’

  Shabashkin, bowing almost to the ground, took his departure, and that very day began to devote all his energies to the business entrusted to him. Thanks to his dispatch, exactly a fortnight later Dubrovsky received a request from the authorities to furnish forthwith the requisite answer to a petition filed by His Excellency General Troyekurov, alleging that Dubrovsky had no right to the ownership of the village of Kistenyovka.

  Dumbfounded by this startling inquiry, Andrei Gavrilovich at once wrote a somewhat rude reply, saying that the village of Kistenyovka had become his on the death of his father, that he held it by right of inheritance, that it was none of Troyekurov’s business and that all adventitious pretensions to his property were a fraud and a swindle.

  This letter produced an exceedingly agreeable impression on the mind of Shabashkin: he saw, in the first place, that Dubrovsky had very little knowledge of legal business; and, in the second, that it would not be difficult to manoeuvre so incautious and hot-tempered a man into a highly disadvantageous position.

  When Andrei Gavrilovich considered the inquiry he had received more coolly he realized that it ought to be answered in greater detail. He wrote out a fairly pertinent statement, but this subsequently proved also to be inadequate.

  The business dragged on. Convinced of the righteousness of his case, Andrei Gavrilovich troubled himself very little about the matter: he had neither the inclination nor the means to scatter money about on bribes, and, though he was the first to deride the mercenary consciences of the bureaucratic fraternity, it never occurred to him that he might become the victim of a legal swindle. Troyekurov, for his part, gave equally little thought to winning the case he had set in motion: Shabashkin was acting for him, using his name, threatening and bribing the judges, and quoted and interpreted the ordinances in the most distorted manner possible. At last, on the ninth day of February in the year 18—, Dubrovsky received a summons to appear before the District Court to hear the Court’s judgment on the matter of the property disputed between himself, Lieutenant Dubrovsky, and General-in-chief Troyekurov, and to affirm his signature in agreement or disagreement thereto. That day Dubrovsky set out for the town. On the road he was overtaken by Troyekurov; they exchanged haughty glances, and Dubrovsky observed a malicious smile on his adversary’s face.

  Arriving in town, Dubrovsky put up at the house of a merchant of his acquaintance, and the following morning went to the District Court. Nobody paid any attention to him. Immediately after him Troyekurov appeared: the clerks stood up, putting their quills behind their ears; the lawyers met him with profound servility, and brought an arm-chair for him in consideration for his rank, his years and his corpulence. He sat down; Dubrovsky stood leaning against the wall. A deep silence ensued, and the secretary began in a ringing voice to read the Court’s ruling. We quote it in full, believing that everybody will be gratified to learn of one of the methods whereby in Russia we can be deprived of an estate to which we have incontestable rights.1

  ‘On the tenth day of February of the year 18— the District Court sitting in the matter of the wrongful possession by Guards-Lieutenant Andrei Dubrovsky, son of Gavril Dubrovsky, of the estate and property belonging to General-in-chief Kiril Troyekurov, son of Piotr Troyekurov, comprising in the province of —— the village of Kistenyovka, — male serfs, together with the land meadows and appurtenances, in all — acres. Concerning which matter it appears [that] the aforesaid General-in-chief Troyekurov on the ninth day of —— of last year 18— petitioned this Court to hold that his late father, Collegiate-Assessor and Knight Piotr son of Yefim Troyekurov on the fourteenth day of August in the year 17—, at that time holding the office of Provincial Secretary in the Regional Administration of ——, did purchase from Clerk-in-Chancery Fadei Spitsyn of the nobility, son of Yegor Spitsyn, the property comprising in the neighbourhood of —— the above-mentioned village of Kistenyovka, which village at that time according to the census was styled Kistenyov, having in all according to the fourth census — male serfs with all their peasant holdings, the domain, with the plough – and other land, the woods, the hay-meadows, the fishing in the river known as the Kistenyovka, and with all the appurtenances belonging to the said estate and with the timber manorial house, and in short everything without exception which came to him by inheritance from his father Cossack-Sergeant of the nobility Yegor son of Terenty Spitsyn, and was held by him, not excepting a single serf, or a single parcel of land, at the cost of 2500 roubles, concerning which the deed of purchase was completed on the same day in the chambers of the Court and Tribunal of ——, and his father on that twenty-sixth day of August was let into possession through the rural police-court of —— and a deed of seisin executed. And lastly on the sixth day of September in the year 17— his father by the will of God expired, and during this time he the plaintiff, General-in-chief Troyekurov, at a very early age from the year 17— was serving in the Army and for the most part was campaigning in foreign lands for which reason he was not in a position to receive intelligence alike of the decease of
his father and of the estate bequeathed to him. Now however upon his final retirement from the Service and his return to the estate of his father, comprising in the provinces of —— in the districts of —— various villages having in all 3000 serfs, out of this property he finds the afore-mentioned Guards-Lieutenant Andrei Dubrovsky without any legal or other title in possession of the above-listed number of serfs (numbering according to the —— census in that village — serfs) with the land and all appurtenances. Wherefore, presenting together with his petition the original deed of purchase given to his father by the seller Spitsyn, he requests that the afore-mentioned estate be removed from the wrongful possession of Dubrovsky and placed as it should be at the full disposal of himself Troyekurov. And for the said unlawful appropriation and the revenues enjoyed therefrom, following upon proper investigation of these latter, he requests that the due penalty be exacted from him, Dubrovsky, and satisfaction rendered to himself, Troyekurov.

  ‘Investigations made by the —— District Court following upon this said petition revealed: that the afore-mentioned present person in actual possession of the disputed estate, Guards-Lieutenant Dubrovsky, gave the local Nobiliary Assessor the explanation that the estate now in his possession, consisting of the aforesaid village of Kistenyovka, having — serfs, with the land and appurtenances, was inherited by him on the death of his father, Sub-lieutenant in the Artillery Gavril Dubrovsky, son of Evgraf Dubrovsky, who acquired it by purchase from the father of the plaintiff, former Provincial Secretary and afterwards Collegiate-Assessor Troyekurov, by procuration given by him on the thirtieth day of August in the year 17—, witnessed in the District Court of ——, to Titular-Councillor Grigory Sobolev, son of Vassily Sobolev, according to which [procuration] there must be in existence a deed of purchase of this estate from him to his father, since in it it is precisely stated that he, Troyekurov, sold all the property acquired by him by purchase from Clerk-in-Chancery Spitsyn, with — serfs and land, to his, Dubrovsky’s, father, and that the money agreed on by treaty, that is, 3200 roubles, was received in full from his father without any reduction and he requested the said Sobolev to deliver to his father the statutory deed of purchase. The same procuration more over stipulated that in consideration of the payment of the whole sum. His father should as rightful owner occupy and possess the estate purchased by him and thenceforth dispose of it pending the completion of the said deed, and that from then on neither the seller Troyekurov nor any other person or persons should interfere with the property. But when exactly and in which Court this deed of purchase from the said Sobolev was given to his father he, Andrei Dubrovsky, did not know, for at that time he was in his extreme youth, and after the death of his father he could not find any such deed, and supposed that it had been destroyed with other papers and property when the house was burned down in the year 17—, of which happening the local inhabitants knew well. And that since the day of the sale by Troyekurov or the issue to Sobolev of the procuration, to wit, since the year 17—, and after the death of his father in the year 17— and up to the present time they the Dubrovskys had held undisputed possession of the said estate, to all of which the neighbouring residents – fifty-two persons in all – are witness, having on oath testified that in fact, as they well remember, the said disputed estate was first possessed and enjoyed by the said Dubrovskys some seventy years back without any misdoubt whatsoever from any quarter whatsoever but by virtue of some title-deed or procuration of which they are uncertain. Whether the previous purchaser of the estate in question, the former Provincial Secretary Piotr Troyekurov, ever took possession of it [the estate in question] they do not remember. But the Dubrovsky house some thirty years prior to this present time was burned down in a fire which occurred during the night on their estate, and it was generally reckoned that the said disputed estate enjoyed an average annual revenue from that time of 2000 roubles.