A Sportsman's Sketches: Works of Ivan Turgenev 1

by Ivan Turgenev

  “And Count Alexyéi Grigórievitch …” (oh, how many times did I hear that tale!), … “having descried me, approached, made a low obeisance, holding his hat in both hands, and spake thus: ‘My stunning beauty, why dost thou allow that sleeve to hang from thy shoulder? Is it that thou wishest to have a match at fisticuffs with me?… With pleasure; only I tell thee beforehand that thou hast vanquished me — I surrender! — and I am thy captive!’ — and every one stared at us and marvelled.”

  And so she had worn that style of toilet ever since.

  “Only, I wore no cap then, but a hat à la bergère de Trianon; and although I was powdered, yet my hair gleamed through it like gold!”

  Malánya Pávlovna was stupid to sanctity, as the saying goes; she chattered at random, and did not herself quite know what issued from her mouth — but it was chiefly about Orlóff. — Orlóff had become, one may say, the principal interest of her life. She usually entered — no! she floated into — the room, moving her head in a measured way like a peacock, came to a halt in the middle of it, with one foot turned out in a strange sort of way, and holding the pendent sleeve in two fingers (that must have been the pose which had pleased Orlóff once on a time), she looked about her with arrogant carelessness, as befits a beauty, — she even sniffed and whispered “The idea!” exactly as though some important cavalier - adorer were besieging her with compliments, — then suddenly walked on, clattering her heels and shrugging her shoulders. — She also took Spanish snuff out of a tiny bonbon box, scooping it out with a tiny golden spoon, and from time to time, especially when a new person made his appearance, she raised — not to her eyes, but to her nose (her vision was excellent) — a double lorgnette in the shape of a pair of horns, showing off and twisting about her little white hand with one finger standing out apart.

  How many times did Malánya Pávlovna describe to me her wedding in the Church of the Ascension, “which is on the Arbát Square — such a fine church! — and all Moscow was present at it … there was such a crush! ‘T was frightful! There were equipages drawn by six horses, golden carriages, runners … one of Count Zavadóvsky’s runners even fell under the wheels! And the bishop himself married us, and what an address he delivered! Everybody wept — wherever I looked there was nothing but tears, tears … and the Governor - General’s horses were tiger - coloured…. And how many, many flowers people brought!… They overwhelmed us with flowers! And one foreigner, a rich, very rich man, shot himself for love on that occasion, and Orlóff was present also…. And approaching Alexyéi Sergyéitch he congratulated him and called him a lucky dog…. ‘Thou art a lucky dog, brother gaper!’ he said. And in reply Alexyéi Sergyéitch made such a wonderful obeisance, and swept the plume of his hat along the floor from left to right … as much as to say: ‘There is a line drawn now, Your Radiance, between you and my spouse which you must not step across!’ — And Orlóff, Alexyéi Grigórievitch, immediately understood and lauded him. — Oh, what a man he was! What a man! And then, on another occasion, Alexis and I were at a ball in his house — I was already married — and what magnificent diamond buttons he wore! And I could not restrain myself, but praised them. ‘What splendid diamonds you have, Count!’ And thereupon he took a knife from the table, cut off one button and presented it to me — saying: ‘You have in your eyes, my dear little dove, diamonds a hundredfold finer; just stand before the mirror and compare them.’ And I did stand there, and he stood beside me. — ’Well? Who is right?’ — says he — and keeps rolling his eyes all round me. And then Alexyéi Sergyéitch was greatly dismayed; but I said to him: ‘Alexis,’ I said to him, ‘please do not be dismayed; thou shouldst know me better!’ And he answered me: ‘Be at ease, Mélanie!’ — And those same diamonds I now have encircling a medallion of Alexyéi Grigórievitch — I think, my dear, that thou hast seen me wear it on my shoulder on festival days, on a ribbon of St. George — because he was a very brave hero, a cavalier of the Order of St. George: he burned the Turks!”

  Notwithstanding all this, Malánya Pávlovna was a very kind woman; she was easy to please. — ”She doesn’t nag you, and she doesn’t sneer at you,” the maids said of her. — Malánya Pávlovna was passionately fond of all sweets, and a special old woman, who occupied herself with nothing but the preserves, and therefore was called the preserve - woman, brought to her, half a score of times in a day, a Chinese plate now with candied rose - leaves, again with barberries in honey, or orange sherbet. Malánya Pávlovna feared solitude — dreadful thoughts come then — and was almost constantly surrounded by female hangers - on whom she urgently entreated: “Talk, talk! Why do you sit there and do nothing but warm your seats?” — and they began to twitter like canary - birds. Being no less devout than Alexyéi Sergyéitch, she was very fond of praying; but as, according to her own words, she had not learned to recite prayers well, she kept for that purpose the widow of a deacon, who prayed so tastily! She would never stumble to all eternity! And, in fact, that deacon’s widow understood how to utter prayerful words in an irrepressible sort of way, without a break even when she inhaled or exhaled her breath — and Malánya Pávlovna listened and melted with emotion. She had another widow also attached to her service; the latter’s duty consisted in telling her stories at night, — ”but only old ones,” entreated Malánya Pávlovna, “those I already know; all the new ones are spurious.”

  Malánya Pávlovna was very frivolous and sometimes suspicious. All of a sudden she would take some idea into her head. She did not like the dwarf Janus, for example; it always seemed to her as though he would suddenly start in and begin to shriek: “But do you know who I am? A Buryát Prince! So, then, submit!” — And if she did not, he would set fire to the house out of melancholy. Malánya Pávlovna was as lavish as Alexyéi Sergyéitch; but she never gave money — she did not wish to soil her pretty little hands — but kerchiefs, ear - rings, gowns, ribbons, or she would send a patty from the table, or a bit of the roast, or if not that, a glass of wine. She was also fond of regaling the peasant - women on holidays. They would begin to dance, and she would click her heels and strike an attitude.

  Alexyéi Sergyéitch was very well aware that his wife was stupid; but he had trained himself, almost from the first year of his married life, to pretend that she was very keen of tongue and fond of saying stinging things. As soon as she got to chattering he would immediately shake his little finger at her and say: “Okh, what a naughty little tongue! What a naughty little tongue! Won’t it catch it in the next world! It will be pierced with red - hot needles!” — But Malánya Pávlovna did not take offence at this; on the contrary, she seemed to feel flattered at hearing such remarks — as much as to say: “Well, I can’t help it! It isn’t my fault that I was born witty!”

  Malánya Pávlovna worshipped her husband, and all her life remained an exemplary and faithful wife. But there had been an “object” in her life also, a young nephew, a hussar, who had been slain, so she assumed, in a duel on her account — - but, according to more trustworthy information, he had died from a blow received on the head from a billiard - cue, in tavern company. The water - colour portrait of this “object” was preserved by her in a secret casket. Malánya Pávlovna crimsoned to the very ears every time she alluded to Kapítonushka — that was the “object’s” name; — while Alexyéi Sergyéitch scowled intentionally, again menaced his wife with his little finger and said, “Trust not a horse in the meadow, a wife in the house! Okh, that Kapítonushka, Kupidónushka!” — Then Malánya Pávlovna bristled up all over and exclaimed:

  “Alexis, shame on you, Alexis! — You yourself probably flirted with divers little ladies in your youth — and so you take it for granted….”

  “Come, that will do, that will do, Malániushka,” Alexyéi Sergyéitch interrupted her, with a smile; — ”thy gown is white, and thy soul is whiter still!”

  “It is whiter, Alexis; it is whiter!”

  “Okh, what a naughty little tongue, on my honour, what a naughty little tongue!” repeated Alexyéi
Sergyéitch, tapping her on the cheek.

  To mention Malánya Pávlovna’s “convictions” would be still more out of place than to mention those of Alexyéi Sergyéitch; but I once chanced to be the witness of a strange manifestation of my aunt’s hidden feelings. I once chanced, in the course of conversation, to mention the well - known Sheshkóvsky. Malánya Pávlovna suddenly became livid in the face, — as livid as a corpse, — turned green, despite the layer of paint and powder, and in a dull, entirely - genuine voice (which very rarely happened with her — as a general thing she seemed always somewhat affected, assumed an artificial tone and lisped) said: “Okh! whom hast thou mentioned! And at nightfall, into the bargain! — Don’t utter that name!” I was amazed; what significance could that name possess for such an inoffensive and innocent being, who would not have known how to devise, much less to execute, anything reprehensible? — This alarm, which revealed itself after a lapse of nearly half a century, induced in me reflections which were not altogether cheerful.

  Alexyéi Sergyéitch died in his eighty - eighth year, in the year 1848, which evidently disturbed even him. And his death was rather strange. That morning he had felt well, although he no longer quitted his arm - chair at all. But suddenly he called to his wife: “Malániushka, come hither!”

  “What dost thou want, Alexis?”

  “It is time for me to die, that’s what, my darling.”

  “God be with you, Alexyéi Sergyéitch! Why so?”

  “This is why. In the first place, one must show moderation; and more than that; I was looking at my legs a little while ago … they were strange legs — and that settles it! — I looked at my hands — - and those were strange also! I looked at my belly — and the belly belonged to some one else! — Which signifies that I am devouring some other person’s life. Send for the priest; and in the meanwhile, lay me on my bed, from which I shall not rise again.”

  Malánya Pávlovna was in utter consternation, but she put the old man to bed, and sent for the priest. Alexyéi Sergyéitch made his confession, received the holy communion, took leave of the members of his household, and began to sink into a stupor. Malánya Pávlovna was sitting beside his bed.

  “Alexis!” she suddenly shrieked, “do not frighten me, do not close thy dear eyes! Hast thou any pain?”

  The old man looked at his wife. — ”No, I have no pain … but I find it … rather difficult … difficult to breathe.” Then, after a brief pause: — ”Malániushka,” he said, “now life has galloped past — but dost thou remember our wedding … what a fine young couple we were?”

  “We were, my beauty, Alexis my incomparable one!”

  Again the old man remained silent for a space.

  “And shall we meet again in the other world, Malániushka?”

  “I shall pray to God that we may, Alexis.” — And the old woman burst into tears.

  “Come, don’t cry, silly one; perchance the Lord God will make us young again there — and we shall again be a fine young pair!”

  “He will make us young, Alexis!”

  “Everything is possible to Him, to the Lord,” remarked Alexyéi Sergyéitch. — ”He is a worker of wonders! — I presume He will make thee a clever woman also…. Come, my dear, I was jesting; give me thy hand to kiss.”

  “And I will kiss thine.”

  And the two old people kissed each other’s hands.

  Alexyéi Sergyéitch began to quiet down and sink into a comatose state. Malánya Pávlovna gazed at him with emotion, brushing the tears from her eyelashes with the tip of her finger. She sat thus for a couple of hours.

  “Has he fallen asleep?” asked in a whisper the old woman who knew how to pray so tastily, peering out from behind Irinárkh, who was standing as motionless as a pillar at the door, and staring intently at his dying master.

  “Yes,” replied Malánya Pávlovna, also in a whisper. And suddenly Alexyéi

  Sergyéitch opened his eyes.

  “My faithful companion,” he stammered, “my respected spouse, I would like to bow myself to thy feet for all thy love and faithfulness — but how am I to rise? Let me at least sign thee with the cross.”

  Malánya Pávlovna drew nearer, bent over…. But the hand which had been raised fell back powerless on the coverlet, and a few moments later Alexyéi Sergyéitch ceased to be.

  His daughters with their husbands only arrived in time for the funeral; neither one of them had any children. Alexyéi Sergyéitch had not discriminated against them in his will, although he had not referred to them on his death - bed.

  “My heart is locked against them,” he had said to me one day. Knowing his kind - heartedness, I was surprised at his words. — It is a difficult matter to judge between parents and children. — ”A vast ravine begins with a tiny rift,” Alexyéi Sergyéitch had said to me on another occasion, referring to the same subject. “A wound an arshín long will heal over, but if you cut off so much as a nail, it will not grow again!”

  I have an idea that the daughters were ashamed of their eccentric old folks.

  A month later Malánya Pávlovna expired also. She hardly rose from her bed again after the day of Alexyéi Sergyéitch’s death, and did not array herself; but they buried her in the blue jacket, and with the medal of Orlóff on her shoulder, only minus the diamonds. The daughters shared those between them, under the pretext that those diamonds were to be used for the setting of holy pictures; but as a matter of fact they used them to adorn their own persons.

  And now how vividly do my old people stand before me, and what a good memory I cherish of them! And yet, during my very last visit to them (I was already a student at the time) an incident occurred which injected some discord into the harmoniously - patriarchal mood with which the Telyégin house inspired me.

  Among the number of the household serfs was a certain Iván, nicknamed “Sukhíkh — the coachman, or the little coachman, as he was called, on account of his small size, in spite of his years, which were not few. He was a tiny scrap of a man, nimble, snub - nosed, curly - haired, with a perennial smile on his infantile countenance, and little, mouse - like eyes. He was a great joker and buffoon; he was able to acquire any trick; he set off fireworks, snakes, played all card - games, galloped his horse while standing erect on it, flew higher than any one else in the swing, and even knew how to present Chinese shadows. There was no one who could amuse children better than he, and he would have been only too glad to occupy himself with them all day long. When he got to laughing he set the whole house astir. People would answer him from this point and that — every one would join in…. They would both abuse him and laugh. — Iván danced marvellously — especially ‘the fish.’ — The chorus would thunder out a dance tune, the young fellow would step into the middle of the circle, and begin to leap and twist about and stamp his feet, and then come down with a crash on the ground — and there represent the movements of a fish which has been thrown out of the water upon the dry land; and he would writhe about this way and that, and even bring his heels up to his neck; and then, when he sprang to his feet and began to shout, the earth would simply tremble beneath him! Alexyéi Sergyéitch was extremely fond of choral songs and dances, as I have already said; he could never refrain from shouting: ‘Send hither Vániushka! the little coachman! Give us ‘the fish,’ be lively!’ — and a minute later he would whisper in ecstasy: ‘Akh, what a devil of a man he is!’“

  Well, then, — on my last visit this same Iván Sukhíkh comes to me in my room, and without uttering a word plumps down on his knees.

  “What is the matter with thee, Iván?”

  “Save me, master!”

  “Why, what’s the trouble?”

  And thereupon Iván related to me his grief.

  He had been swapped twenty years previously by the Messrs. Sukhóy for another serf, a man belonging to the Telyégins — he had simply been exchanged, without any formalities and documents. The man who had been given in exchange for him had died, but the Messrs. Sukhóy had forgotten all ab
out Iván and had left him in Alexyéi Sergyéitch’s house as his property; his nickname alone served as a reminder of his origin. — But lo and behold! his former owners had died also, their estate had fallen into other hands, and the new owner, concerning whom rumours were in circulation to the effect that he was a cruel man, a torturer, having learned that one of his serfs was to be found at Alexyéi Sergyéitch’s without any passport and right, began to demand his return; in case of refusal he threatened to have recourse to the courts and a penalty — and he did not threaten idly, as he himself held the rank of Privy Councillor, and had great weight in the government. Iván, in his affright, darted to Alexyéi Sergyéitch. The old man was sorry for his dancer, and he offered to buy Iván from the privy councillor at a good price; but the privy councillor would not hear of such a thing; he was a Little Russian and obstinate as the devil. The poor fellow had to be surrendered.

  “I have got used to living here, I have made myself at home here, I have eaten bread here, and here I wish to die,” Ivan said to me — and there was no grin on his face now; on the contrary, he seemed turned into stone…. “But now I must go to that malefactor…. Am I a dog that I am to be driven from one kennel to another with a slip - noose round my neck — and a ‘take that’? Save me, master; entreat your uncle, — remember how I have always amused you…. Or something bad will surely come of it; the matter will not pass off without sin.”

  “Without what sin, Iván?”

  “Why, I will kill that gentleman. — When I arrive I shall say to him: ‘Let me go back, master; otherwise, look out, beware…. I will kill you.’“