A Sportsman's Sketches: Works of Ivan Turgenev 1

by Ivan Turgenev

  “I felt as though light dawned upon me, all at once; how those words delighted me. I bowed down to Prohoritch and would have gone away, when I bethought me that I could not go away without rewarding him. I got a three rouble note out of my pocket. But he thrust my hand away and said, ‘Give it to our chapel, or to the poor; the service I have done you is not to be paid for.’ I bowed down to him again almost to the ground, and set off straight for the market! And only fancy: as soon as I drew near the shops, lo and behold, a man in a frieze overcoat comes sauntering towards me carrying under his arm a two months’ old setter puppy with a reddish brown coat, white lips and white forepaws. ‘Stay,’ I said to the man in the overcoat, ‘what will you sell it for?’ ‘For two roubles.’ Take three!’ The man looked at me in amazement, thought the gentleman had gone out of his wits, but I flung the notes in his face, took the pup under my arm and made for my carriage! The coachman quickly had the horses harnessed and that evening I reached home. The puppy sat inside my coat all the way and did not stir; and I kept calling him, ‘Little Trésor! Little Trésor!’ I gave him food and drink at once. I had some straw brought in, settled him and whisked into bed! I blew out the candle: it was dark. ‘Well, now begin,’ said I. There was silence. ‘Begin,’ said I, ‘you so and so!’... Not a sound, as though to mock me. Well, I began to feel so set up that I fell to calling it all sorts of names. But still there was not a sound! I could only hear the puppy panting! Filka,’ I cried, ‘Filka! Come here, you stupid!’ He came in. ‘Do you hear the dog?’ ‘No, sir,’ said he, ‘I hear nothing,’ and he laughed. ‘And you won’t hear it ever again,’ said I. ‘Here’s half a rouble for vodka!’ ‘Let me kiss your hand,’ said the foolish fellow, and he stooped down to me in the darkness.... It was a great relief, I must tell you.”

  “And was that how it all ended?” asked Anton Stepanitch, this time without irony.

  “The apparitions ended certainly and I was not disturbed in any way, but wait a bit, the whole business was not over yet. My Trésor grew, he turned into a fine fellow. He was heavy, with flopping ears and overhanging lip and a thick tail; a regular sporting dog. And he was extremely attached to me, too. The shooting in our district is poor, however, as I had set up a dog, I got a gun, too. I took to sauntering round the neighbourhood with my Trésor: sometimes one would hit a hare (and didn’t he go after that hare, upon my soul), sometimes a quail, or a duck. But the great thing was that Trésor was never a step away from me. Where I went, he went; I even took him to the bath with me, I did really! One lady actually tried to get me turned out of her drawing - room on account of Trésor, but I made such an uproar! The windows I broke! Well, one day ... it was in summer ... and I must tell you there was a drought at the time such as nobody remembered. The air was full of smoke or haze. There was a smell of burning, the sun was like a molten bullet, and as for the dust there was no getting it out of one’s nose and throat. People walked with their mouths wide open like crows. I got weary of sitting at home in complete deshabille, with shutters closed; and luckily the heat was beginning to abate a little.... So I went off, gentlemen, to see a lady, a neighbour of mine. She lived about three - quarters of a mile away - - and she certainly was a benevolent lady. She was still young and blooming and of most prepossessing appearance; but she was of rather uncertain temper. Though that is no harm in the fair sex; it even gives me pleasure.... Well, I reached her door, and I did feel that I had had a hot time of it getting there! Well, I thought, Nimfodora Semyonovna will regale me now with bilberry water and other cooling drinks - - and I had already taken hold of the doorhandle when all at once there was the tramping of feet and shrieking, and shouting of boys from round the corner of a hut in the courtyard.... I looked round. Good heavens! A huge reddish beast was rushing straight towards me; at the first glance I did not recognise it as a dog: its jaws were open, its eyes were bloodshot, its coat was bristling.... I had not time to take breath before the monster bounded up the steps, stood upon its hind legs and made straight for my chest - - it was a position! I was numb with terror and could not lift my arms. I was completely stupefied.... I could see nothing but the terrible white tusks just before my nose, the red tongue all covered with white foam. But at the same instant, another dark body was whisking before me like a ball - - it was my darling Trésor defending me; and he hung like a leech on the brute’s throat! The creature wheezed, grated its teeth and staggered back. I instantly flung open the door and got into the hall.... I stood hardly knowing what I was doing with my whole weight on the door, and heard a desperate battle going on outside. I began shouting and calling for help; everyone in the house was terribly upset. Nimfodora Semyonovna ran out with her hair down, the voices in the yard grew louder - - and all at once I heard: ‘Hold the gate, hold it, fasten it!’ I opened the door - - just a crack, and looked out: the monster was no longer on the steps, the servants were rushing about the yard in confusion waving their hands and picking up bits of wood from the ground; they were quite crazy. ‘To the village, it has run off to the village,’ shrieked a peasant woman in a cap of extraordinary size poking her head out of a dormer window. I went out of the house.

  “‘Where is my Trésor?’ I asked and at once I saw my saviour. He was coming from the gate limping, covered with wounds and with blood.... ‘What’s the meaning of it?’ I asked the servants who were dashing about the yard as though possessed. ‘A mad dog!’ they answered, ‘the count’s; it’s been hanging about here since yesterday.’

  “We had a neighbour, a count, who bred very fierce foreign dogs. My knees shook; I rushed to a looking - glass and looked to see whether I had been bitten. No, thank God, there was nothing to be seen; only my countenance naturally looked green; while Nimfodora Semyonovna was lying on the sofa and cackling like a hen. Well, that one could quite understand, in the first place nerves, in the second sensibility. She came to herself at last, though, and asked me whether I were alive. I answered that I was and that Trésor had saved me. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘what a noble creature! and so the mad dog has strangled him?’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘it has not strangled him, but has wounded him seriously.’ ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘in that case he must be shot this minute!’ ‘Oh, no,’ I said, ‘I won’t agree to that. I shall try to cure him....’ At that moment Trésor began scratching at the door. I was about to go and open it for him. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘what are you doing, why, it will bite us all.’ ‘Upon my word,’ I said, ‘the poison does not act so quickly.’ ‘Oh, how can you?’ she said. ‘Why, you have taken leave of your senses!’ ‘Nimfotchka,’ I said, ‘calm yourself, be reasonable....’ But she suddenly cried, ‘Go away at once with your horrid dog.’ ‘I will go away,’ said I. ‘At once,’ she said, ‘this second! Get along with you,’ she said, ‘you villain, and never dare to let me set eyes on you again. You may go mad yourself!’ ‘Very good,’ said I, ‘only let me have a carriage for I am afraid to go home on foot now.’ ‘Give him the carriage, the coach, the chaise, what he likes, only let him be gone quickly. Oh, what eyes! Oh, what eyes he has!’ and with those words she whisked out of the room and gave a maid who met her a slap in the face - - and I heard her in hysterics again.

  “And you may not believe me, gentlemen, but that very day I broke off all acquaintance with Nimfodora Semyonovna; on mature consideration of everything, I am bound to add that for that circumstance, too, I shall owe a debt of gratitude to my friend Trésor to the hour of my death.

  “Well, I had the carriage brought round, put my Trésor in and drove home. When I got home I looked him over and washed his wounds, and thought I would take him next day as soon as it was light to the wise man in the Yefremovsky district. And this wise man was an old peasant, a wonderful man: he would whisper over some water - - and some people made out that he dropped some snake spittle into it - - would give it as a draught, and the trouble would be gone completely. I thought, by the way, I would be bled myself at Yefremovo: it’s a good thing as a precaution against fright, only not from the arm, of course, but from t
he falcon.”

  “What place is that, the falcon?” Mr. Finoplentov asked with demure curiosity.

  “Why, don’t you know? It is here on the fist near the thumb, the spot on which one shakes the snuff from one’s horn, just here. It’s the best place for letting blood. For only consider, the blood from the arm comes from the vein, but here it is of no consequence. The doctors don’t know that and don’t understand it, how should they, the idle drones, the wretched Germans? It’s the blacksmiths who go in for it. And aren’t they skilful! They get a chisel, give it a tap with a hammer and it’s done! ... Well, while I was thinking it over, it got quite dark, it was time for bed. I went to bed and Trésor, of course, was close by me. But whether it was from the fight, from the stuffiness, from the fleas or from my thoughts, I could not get to sleep, do what I would! I can’t describe the depression that came over me; I sipped water, opened the window and played the ‘Kamarinsky’ with Italian variations on the guitar.... No good! I felt I must get out of the room - - and that was all about it! I made up my mind at last: I took my pillow, my quilt and my sheet and made my way across the garden to the hayloft; and settled myself there. And how pleasant I felt in there, gentlemen: it was a still, still night, only from time to time a breath of air like a woman’s hand caressed one’s cheek; it was so fresh; the hay smelt as sweet as tea; among the apple trees’ the grasshoppers were chirping; then all at once came the cry of the quail - - and one felt that he, too, the rogue, was happy, sitting in the dew with his little lady.... And the sky was magnificent.... The stars were glowing, or a cloud would float by, white as cotton wool, scarcely moving....”

  At this point in the story Skvorevitch sneezed; Kinarevitch sneezed, too - - he never failed in anything to follow his colleague’s example. Anton Stepanitch looked approvingly at both of them.

  “Well,” Porfiry Kapitonitch went on, “well, so I lay there and again could not go to sleep. I fell to musing, and what I thought of most was the strangeness of it all: how correctly Prohoritch had explained it as a warning and I wondered why it was to me such marvels had happened.... I marvelled - - particularly because I could make nothing of it - - and Trésor kept whining, as he twisted round in the hay; his wounds hurt him. And I will tell you what else prevented me from sleeping - - you won’t believe it - - the moon. It was just facing me, so big and round and yellow and flat, and it seemed to me that it was staring at me, it really did. And so insolently, so persistently.... I put out my tongue at it at last, I really did. What are you so inquisitive about? I thought. I turned away from it and it seemed to be creeping into my ear and shining on the back of my head, so that I felt caught in it as in rain; I opened my eyes and every blade of grass, every paltry being in the hay, the most flimsy spider’s web - - all were standing out as though they were chiselled! As though asking to be looked at! There was no help for it: I leaned my head on my hand and began gazing. And I couldn’t help it: would you believe it: my eyes bulged out like a hare’s; they opened so wide - - as though they did not know what sleep was! It seemed as though I would devour it all with my eyes. The doors of the barn were wide open; I could see for four miles into the open country, distinctly and yet not, as it always is on a moonlight night. I gazed and gazed without blinking.... And all at once it seemed as though something were moving, far, far away ... like a faint glimmer in the distance. A little time passed: again the shadow stirred - - now a little nearer; then again nearer still. ‘What can it be?’ I wondered, ‘a hare, no,’ I thought, ‘it is bigger than a hare and its action is not the same.’ I looked, and again the shadow came in sight, and was moving across the grazing meadow (the meadow looked whitish in the moonlight) like a big blur; it was clear that it was a wild animal, a fox or a wolf. My heart seemed to stand still ... though one might wonder why I was frightened. All sorts of wild creatures run about the fields at night. But curiosity was even stronger than fear. I sat up, I opened my eyes wide and I turned cold all over. I felt frozen, as though I had been thrust into the ice, up to my ears, and why? The Lord only knows! And I saw the shadow growing and growing, so it was running straight towards the barn. And I began to realise that it certainly was a wild beast, big, with a huge head.... He flew like a whirlwind, like a bullet.... Holy saints! what was it? He stopped all at once, as though he scented something.... Why it was ... the same mad dog! It was ... it was! Heavens! And I could not stir, I could not cry out.... It darted to the doors, with glittering eyes, howled and dashed through the hay straight at me!

  “Out of the hay like a lion leapt my Trésor, here he was. They hung on to each other’s jaws and rolled on the ground. What happened then I don’t remember; all I remember is that I flew headlong between them into the garden, and home and into my bedroom and almost crept under the bed - - why not make a clean breast of it? And what leaps, what bounds I took in the garden! The prémiere danseuse dancing before the Emperor Napoleon on his nameday couldn’t have kept pace with me. However, when I had recovered myself a little, I roused the whole household; I ordered them all to arm themselves, I myself took a sword and a revolver (I bought that revolver, I must own, soon after the emancipation, you know, in case anything should happen, but it turned out the man who sold it was such a rogue - - it would be sure to miss fire twice out of every three shots). Well, I took all this and so we went, a regular horde of us with stakes and lanterns, to the barn. We approached and called - - there was not a sound; at last we went into the barn.... And what did we see? My poor Trésor lay dead with his throat torn open, and of the other, the damned brute, not a trace to be seen!

  “And then, gentlemen, I howled like a calf and I am not ashamed to say so; I stooped down to the friend who had saved my life twice over and kissed his head, again and again. And I stayed in that position until my old housekeeper, Praskovya (she, too, had run in at the uproar), brought me to my senses. ‘How can you, Porfiry Kapitonitch,’ she said, ‘distress yourself so about a dog? And you will catch cold, too, God forbid.’ (I was very lightly clad.) ‘And if this dog has lost his life in saving you, it may be taken as a great blessing vouchsafed him!’

  “Though I did not agree with Praskovya, I went home. And next day a soldier of the garrison shot the mad dog. And it must have been its destined end: it was the first time in his life that the soldier had fired a gun, though he had a medal for service in 1812. So this was the supernatural incident that happened to me.”

  The speaker ceased and began filling his pipe. We all looked at each other in amazement.

  “Well, perhaps, you have led a very virtuous life,” Mr. Finoplentov began, “so in recompense...”

  But he broke off at that word, for he saw Porfiry Kapitonitch’s cheeks grow round and flushed while his eyes screwed up - - he was on the point of breaking into a guffaw.

  “But if one admits the possibility of the supernatural, the possibility of its participation in everyday life, so to say,” Anton Stepanitch began again, “then allow me to ask, what becomes of common sense?”

  None of us found anything to say in reply and we remained in perplexity as before.

  1866.

  THE WATCH

  AN OLD MAN’S STORY

  I

  I will tell you my adventures with a watch. It is a curious story.

  It happened at the very beginning of this century, in 1801. I had just reached my sixteenth year. I was living at Ryazan in a little wooden house not far from the bank of the river Oka with my father, my aunt and my cousin; my mother I do not remember; she died three years after her marriage; my father had no other children. His name was Porfiry Petrovitch. He was a quiet man, sickly and unattractive in appearance; he was employed in some sort of legal and - - other - - business. In old days such were called attorneys, sharpers, nettle - seeds; he called himself a lawyer. Our domestic life was presided over by his sister, my aunt, an old maiden lady of fifty; my father, too, had passed his fourth decade. My aunt was very pious, or, to speak bluntly, she was a canting hypocrite and a chattering magpie, who poked
her nose into everything; and, indeed, she had not a kind heart like my father. We were not badly off, but had nothing to spare. My father had a brother called Yegor; but he had been sent to Siberia in the year 1797 for some “seditious acts and Jacobin tendencies” (those were the words of the accusation).