Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories

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Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories Page 7

by Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev

instance, shecould not wear a hat and was obliged to tie up her head in a kerchief,"like a merchant's lady," said sly Kirillovna, "like a working woman,"thought Dunyasha to herself.

  More than once Akim recalled the words of his only relation, an unclewho had lived in solitude without a family for years: "Well,Akimushka, my lad," he had said, meeting him in the street, "I hearyou are getting married."

  "Why, yes, what of it?"

  "Ech, Akim, Akim. You are above us peasants now, there's no denyingthat; but you are not on her level either."

  "In what way not on her level?"

  "Why, in that way, for instance," his uncle had answered, pointing toAkim's beard, which he had begun to clip in order to please hisbetrothed, though he had refused to shave it completely.... Akimlooked down; while the old man turned away, wrapped his tatteredsheepskin about him and walked away, shaking his head.

  Yes, more than once Akim sank into thought, cleared his throat andsighed.... But his love for his pretty wife was no less; he was proudof her, especially when he compared her not merely with peasant women,or with his first wife, to whom he had been married at sixteen, butwith other serf girls; "look what a fine bird we have caught," hethought to himself.... Her slightest caress gave him immense pleasure."Maybe," he thought, "she will get used to it; maybe she will get intothe way of it." Meanwhile her behaviour was irreproachable and no onecould say anything against her.

  Several years passed like this. Dunyasha really did end by growingused to her way of life. Akim's love for her and confidence in heronly increased as he grew older; her girl friends, who had beenmarried not to peasants, were suffering cruel hardships, either frompoverty or from having fallen into bad hands.... Akim went on gettingricher and richer. Everything succeeded with him--he was always lucky;only one thing was a grief: God had not given him children. Dunyashawas by now over five and twenty; everyone addressed her as AvdotyaArefyevna. She never became a real housewife, however--but she grewfond of her house, looked after the stores and superintended the womanwho worked in the house. It is true that she did all this only after afashion; she did not keep up a high standard of cleanliness and order;on the other hand, her portrait painted in oils and ordered by herselffrom a local artist, the son of the parish deacon, hung on the wall ofthe chief room beside that of Akim. She was depicted in a white dresswith a yellow shawl with six strings of big pearls round her neck,long earrings, and a ring on every finger. The portrait wasrecognisable though the artist had painted her excessively stout androsy--and had made her eyes not grey but black and even slightlysquinting.... Akim's was a complete failure, the portrait had come outdark--_a la_ Rembrandt--so that sometimes a visitor would go upto it, look at it and merely give an inarticulate murmur. Avdotya hadtaken to being rather careless in her dress; she would fling a bigshawl over her shoulders, while the dress under it was put on anyhow:she was overcome by laziness, that sighing apathetic drowsy lazinessto which the Russian is only too liable, especially when hislivelihood is secure....

  With all that, the fortunes of Akim and his wife prosperedexceedingly; they lived in harmony and had the reputation of anexemplary pair. But just as a squirrel will wash its face at the veryinstant when the sportsman is aiming at it, man has no presentiment ofhis troubles, till all of a sudden the ground gives way under him likeice.

  One autumn evening a merchant in the drapery line put up at Akim'sinn. He was journeying by various cross-country roads from Moscow toHarkov with two loaded tilt carts; he was one of those travellingtraders whose arrival is sometimes awaited with such impatience bycountry gentlemen and still more by their wives and daughters. Thistravelling merchant, an elderly man, had with him two companions, or,speaking more correctly, two workmen, one thin, pale and hunchbacked,the other a fine, handsome young fellow of twenty. They asked forsupper, then sat down to tea; the merchant invited the innkeeper andhis wife to take a cup with him, they did not refuse. A conversationquickly sprang up between the two old men (Akim was fifty-six); themerchant inquired about the gentry of the neighbourhood and no onecould give him more useful information about them than Akim; thehunchbacked workman spent his time looking after the carts and finallywent off to bed; it fell to Avdotya to talk to the other one.... Shesat by him and said little, rather listening to what he told her, butit was evident that his talk pleased her; her face grew more animated,the colour came into her cheeks and she laughed readily and often. Theyoung workman sat almost motionless with his curly head bent over thetable; he spoke quietly, without haste and without raising his voice;but his eyes, not large but saucily bright and blue, were rivetted onAvdotya; at first she turned away from them, then she, too, beganlooking him in the face. The young fellow's face was fresh and smoothas a Crimean apple; he often smiled and tapped with his white fingerson his chin covered with soft dark down. He spoke like a merchant, butvery freely and with a sort of careless self-confidence and went onlooking at her with the same intent, impudent stare.... All at once hemoved a little closer to her and without the slightest change ofcountenance said to her: "Avdotya Arefyevna, there's no one like youin the world; I am ready to die for you."

  Avdotya laughed aloud.

  "What is it?" asked Akim.

  "Why, he keeps saying such funny things," she said, without anyparticular embarrassment.

  The old merchant grinned.

  "Ha, ha, yes, my Naum is such a funny fellow, don't listen to him."

  "Oh! Really! As though I should," she answered, and shook her head.

  "Ha, ha, of course not," observed the old man. "But, however," he wenton in a singsong voice, "we will take our leave; we are thoroughlysatisfied, it is time for bed, ..." and he got up.

  "We are well satisfied, too," Akim brought out and he got up, "foryour entertainment, that is, but we wish you a good night.Avdotyushka, come along."

  Avdotya got up as it were unwillingly. Naum, too, got up after her ...the party broke up. The innkeeper and his wife went off to the littlelobby partitioned off, which served them as a bedroom. Akim wassnoring immediately. It was a long time before Avdotya could get tosleep.... At first she lay still, turning her face to the wall, thenshe began tossing from side to side on the hot feather bed, throwingoff and pulling up the quilt alternately ... then she sank into a lightdoze. Suddenly she heard from the yard a loud masculine voice: it wassinging a song of which it was impossible to distinguish the words,prolonging each note, though not with a melancholy effect. Avdotyaopened her eyes, propped herself on her elbows and listened.... Thesong went on.... It rang out musically in the autumn air.

  Akim raised his head.

  "Who's that singing?" he asked.

  "I don't know," she answered.

  "He sings well," he added, after a brief pause. "Very well. What astrong voice. I used to sing in my day," he went on. "And I sang well,too, but my voice has gone. That's a fine voice. It must be that youngfellow singing, Naum is his name, isn't it?" And he turned over on theother side, gave a sigh and fell asleep again.

  It was a long time before the voice was still ... Avdotya listened andlistened; all at once it seemed to break off, rang out boldly oncemore and slowly died away.... Avdotya crossed herself and laid herhead on the pillow.... Half an hour passed.... She sat up and softlygot out of bed.

  "Where are you going, wife?" Akim asked in his sleep.

  She stopped.

  "To see to the little lamp," she said, "I can't get to sleep."

  "You should say a prayer," Akim mumbled, falling asleep.

  Avdotya went up to the lamp before the ikon, began trimming it andaccidentally put it out; she went back and lay down. Everything wasstill.

  Early next morning the merchant set off again on his journey with hiscompanions. Avdotya was asleep. Akim went half a mile with them: hehad to call at the mill. When he got home he found his wife dressedand not alone. Naum, the young man who had been there the nightbefore, was with her. They were standing by the table in the windowtalking. When Avdotya saw Akim, she went out of the room without aword, and Naum s
aid that he had come for his master's gloves which thelatter, he said, had left behind on the bench; and he, too, went away.

  We will now tell the reader what he has probably guessed already:Avdotya had fallen passionately in love with Naum. It is hard to sayhow it could have happened so quickly, especially as she had hithertobeen irreproachable in her behaviour in spite of many opportunitiesand temptations to deceive her husband. Later on, when her intriguewith Naum became known, many people in the neighbourhood declared thathe had on the very first evening put a magic potion that was a lovespell in her tea (the efficacy of such spells is still firmly believedin among us), and that this could be clearly seen from the appearanceof Avdotya who, so they said, soon after began to

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