An Historical Episode
Ivan Ivanovich Susanin (that same historical personage who laid down his life for the tsar and was subsequently extolled by Glinka’s opera) once went into a Russian hostelry and, having sat down at a table, ordered himself an entrecôte. While the hostelry host grilled the entrecôte, Ivan Ivanovich snatched at his beard with his teeth and fell to thinking, as was his wont.
Thirty-five notches of time elapsed and mine host brought Ivan Ivanovich his entrecôte on a round wooden platter. Ivan Ivanovich was hungry and, as was the custom of the time, grabbed the entrecôte with his hands and began to eat it. But, in his haste to satisfy his hunger, Ivan Ivanovich fell upon the entrecôte so greedily that he forgot to pull his beard out of his mouth and consumed along with the entrecôte a clump of his own beard.
And thereby arose great unpleasantness, as not fifteen notches of time had elapsed when a powerful gripe attacked Ivan Ivanovich’s stomach. Ivan Ivanovich leaped up from the table and charged into the yard. Mine host began shouting to Ivan Ivanovich: – Lo, what a tufty beard you have. – But Ivan Ivanovich, paying no attention to anything, ran on into the yard.
Then the boyar Kovshegub, sitting in a corner of the hostelry drinking malt liquor, banged his fist on the table and yelled: – Who be he? – And mine host, bowing low, answered the boyar: – He be our patriot Ivan Ivanovich Susanin.
– You don’t say – said the boyar, drinking up his malt liquor.
– Care for a bit offish? – asked mine host.
– Frig off! – shouted the boyar and loosed a ladle at mine host. The ladle whistled past the head of mine host, flew out the window to the yard and smashed Ivan Ivanovich, sitting there in eagle-like pose, right in the teeth. Ivan Ivanovich clutched at his cheek with one hand and rolled on his side.
At this point Karp ran out of the stables on the right and, jumping over a trough in which, amid the slops, lay a pig, with a yell ran off towards the gates. Mine host looked out from the hostelry. – What are you bawling for? – he asked Karp. But Karp, not answering at all, ran away.
Mine host went out to the yard and spotted Susanin lying motionless on the ground. Mine host approached closer and looked him in the face. Susanin stared back at mine host.
– So, be you in one piece? – asked mine host.
– One piece, yea, but I’m worried what might clobber me next – said Susanin.
– No – said mine host – don’t worry. It were the boyar Kovshegub who half killed you, but he’s gorn now.
– Well, thankee God for that! – said Ivan Susanin, getting up off the ground. – A valiant man I may be, but I don’t care to risk my guts for nowt. So I hugged the ground and waited: what next? First sign, and I’d have crawled right off on my guts all the way to Yeldyrin Dwellings …. Ee-eck, what a swollen cheek. Oh my Gawd! Half me beard’s torn off!
– Oh, ye were like that before – said mine host.
– What d’yer mean it were like it before? – screamed the patriot Susanin. – What, you reckon I go around so, with a tufty beard?
– Aye, so – said mine host.
– Oh, a pox on you – muttered Ivan Susanich.
Mine host narrowed his eyes and, arms aflail, he sailed into Susanin in full flail across the ear. The patriot Susanin collapsed, rooted to the spot. – Take that! Pox yourself! – said mine host and retired within his hostelry.
For a few notches of time Susanin lay on the ground listening but, hearing nothing suspicious, he cautiously raised his head and took stock. There was no one in the yard, unless we count the pig, which, having scrambled out of the trough, was now rolling in a filthy puddle. Ivan Susanin, with backward glances, stealthily approached the gates. Luckily the gates were open and the patriot Ivan Susanin, writhing wormlike over the ground, crawled off in the direction of Yeldyrin Dwellings.
Here then is an episode from the life of the celebrated personage who laid down his life for the tsar and was subsequently extolled in Glinka’s opera.
A Nasty Character
Sen’ka bashed Fed’ka across the chops and hid under the chest of drawers.
Fed’ka got Sen’ka out from under the chest of drawers with a poker and tore off his right ear.
Sen’ka slipped through Fed’ka’s hands and, holding his torn-off ear, ran off to the neighbours.
But Fed’ka caught up with Sen’ka and coshed him over the head with the sugar-basin.
Sen’ka collapsed and, seemingly, died.
Then Fed’ka packed his things in a suitcase and went away to Vladivostok.
In Vladivostok Fed’ka became a tailor; strictly speaking, he was not exactly a tailor, because he made only ladies’ underwear, principally drawers and brassiéres. The ladies had no inhibitions with Fed’ka; right in front of him they would hitch up their skirts and Fed’ka would take their measurements.
Fed’ka, as one might say, didn’t half see some sights.
Fed’ka was a nasty character.
Fed’ka was the murderer of Sen’ka.
Fed’ka was a lecherous devil.
Fed’ka was a glutton, because every evening he ate a dozen cutlets. Fed’ka grew such a belly on him, that he made himself a corset and took to wearing it.
Fed’ka was an unscrupulous man: he took money from children he met in the street, he tripped up old men and he terrorized old women by raising his hand to them and, when a frightened old woman shied to one side, Fed’ka would pretend that he had only raised his hand to scratch his head.
It ended when Nikolay went up to Fed’ka, bashed him across the chops and hid under a cupboard.
Fed’ka got Nikolay out with a poker from under the cupboard and ripped open his mouth.
Nikolay ran off with his ripped mouth to the neighbours, but Fed’ka caught up with him and clubbed him with a beer-mug. Nikolay collapsed and died.
Fed’ka gathered his things and went away from Vladivostok.
(Written in two devices, 21 November 1937)
Fedya Davidovich
Fedya kept prowling round the butter-dish and finally, seizing the moment when his wife was bending over to cut a toe-nail, quickly, in a single movement, he took all the butter out of the butter-dish with his finger and shoved it into his mouth. As he was covering the butter-dish, Fedya accidentally clattered the lid: his wife straightened up immediately and, spotting the empty butter-dish, pointed at it with the scissors, saying in a severe tone:
– The butter’s not in the butter-dish. Where is it? Fedya’s eyes flashed in surprise and, extending his neck, he had a look into the butter-dish.
– That’s butter you’ve got in your mouth – said his wife, pointing the scissors at Fedya. Fedya began shaking his head in denial.
– Aha – said his wife – you say nothing and shake your head because you mouth’s full of butter.
Fedya’s eyes widened in astonishment and he waved his hands dismissively at his wife, as if to say – What do you mean? It’s nothing of the kind. – But his wife said:
– You’re lying. Open you mouth.
– Mm, mm – said Fedya.
– Open your mouth – his wife repeated.
Fedya spread his fingers and mumbled something, as if to say – Ah yes, I almost forgot, I’ll be back in a sec … – and stood up, intending to leave the room.
– Stay where you are! – snapped his wife.
But Fedya quickened his step and slipped out of the door. His wife darted after him but, since she was naked, she stopped by the door as in that condition she could not go out into the corridor, where other tenants of the apartment would be walking up and down.
– He’s got away – said his wife, sitting down on the divan. – What a devil!
And Fedya, reaching a door along the corridor on which hung the sign ‘Entry Categorically Forbidden’, opened that door and went into the room.
The room which Fedya entered was narrow and long, its window curtained with newspaper. On the right-hand side of the room by the wall was a dirty,
broken-down couch, and by the window a table made of planks placed at one end on a bedside table and at the other on the back of a chair. On the left-hand wall was a double shelf on which lay it was not clear what.
There was nothing else in the room, unless you count the man reclining on the couch, with a pale green face, dressed in a long and torn brown frock-coat and black nankeen trousers, from which there protruded freshly washed feet. The man was not asleep and he fixed intently on the intruder.
Fedya bowed, clicked his heels and, having pulled the butter out of his mouth, showed it to the reclining man.
– One and a half – said the host without changing his pose.
– That’s not very much – said Fedya.
– It’s quite enough – said the tenant of the room.
– Well, all right – said Fedya and, having removed the butter from his finger, placed it on the shelf.
– You can come for the money tomorrow morning – said the host.
– What do you mean! – exclaimed Fedya – I need it right now. And anyway only one and a half roubles is …
– Bugger off – said the host drily and Fedya fled the room on tiptoe, closing the door carefully behind him.
(1939)
Knights
There was a house, full of old women. The old women lounged around the house all day and swatted flies with paper bags. There were in all thirty-six old women in this house. The most vigorous old woman, by surname Yufleva, ordered the other old woman about. She would nip any disobedient old woman on the back of the shoulders or trip her up, and she would fall and smash her face. One old woman called Zvyakina, punished by Yufleva, fell so disastrously that she broke both her jaws. The doctor had to be sent for. He arrived, put on his white coat and, having examined Zvyakina, said that she was too old for any possibility of counting on her jaws mending. Then the doctor asked to be given a hammer, a chisel, pincers and rope. The old women drifted round the house for ages and, not knowing what pincers and a chisel look like, they brought the doctor everything that seemed to them anything like tools. The doctor cursed for a long time but finally, having received all the objects he had demanded, asked everyone to withdraw. The old women, burning with curiosity, withdrew with great displeasure. When the old women, amid swearing and grumbling, had flocked out of the room, the doctor locked the door behind them and went up to Zvyakina. – Now then – said the doctor and, having grabbed Zvyakina, tied her tightly with the rope. Then the doctor, paying no attention to the loud cries and wailing of Zvyakina, placed the chisel to her jaw-bone and struck the chisel hard with the hammer. Zvyakina began howling in a hoarse bass. Having shattered Zvyakina’s jaw with the chisel, the doctor grabbed the pincers and, having engaged Zvyakina’s jaws, tore them out. Zvyakina howled, shouted and wheezed, covered in blood. And the doctor dropped the pincers and Zvyakina’s torn out jaw-bones on the floor, took off his white coat, wiped his hands on it and, going over to the door, opened it. The old women tumbled into the room with a scream and stared goggle-eyed, some at Zvyakina, some at the blood-stained bits lying about on the floor. The doctor pushed his way between the old women and went out. The old women rushed over to Zvyakina. Zvyakina faded in volume and, obviously, was in the process of dying. Yufleva stood right there, looking at Zvyakina and nibbling at sunflower seeds. The old woman Byashechina said:
– So, Yufleva, even you and I will snuff it some day.
Yufleva kicked at Byashechina, but the latter jumped aside in time.
– Come on girls! – said Byashechina. – Why hang around here? Let’s leave Yufleva and Zvyakina to romp around, and we’ll go and swat flies.
And the old women moved off out of the room.
Yufleva, continuing to bite into her sunflower seeds, stood in the middle of the room and looked at Zvyakina. Zvyakina had faded away and lay there motionless. Perhaps she had died.
However, with this the author is finishing his narrative, since he cannot find his ink-pot.
(21 June 1940)
The Falling
Two men fell from a roof. They both fell from the roof of a five-storey newly erected building. Seemingly a school. They had moved down the roof in a sitting position to the very edge and at that point started to fall. Their fall was noticed first of all by Ida Markovna. She was standing at her window in the building opposite and was blowing her nose into a glass. And suddenly she caught sight of someone starting to fall from the roof of the building opposite. Peering out, Ida Markovna saw what was an entire twosome starting to fall at once. Completely losing her head, Ida Markovna tore off her shift and hurriedly began to rub the misted-over window-pane, the better to make out who was falling out there from the roof. However, twigging that, perhaps, those falling might, from their vantage point, be able to glimpse her naked – and goodness only knew what they might think of her – Ida Markovna jumped back from the window and hid behind the wicker tripod on which there had at one time stood a pot-plant.
At this juncture, those falling from the roof were sighted by another personage who lived in the same building as Ida Markovna, only two floors below. This personage was also called Ida Markovna. She happened at the time to be sitting with her feet up on the window-sill and was sewing a button on her slipper. Looking out of the window, she had caught sight of those falling from the roof. Ida Markovna yelped and, leaping up from the window, hastily began opening the window, so as to get a better view when those falling from the roof should strike the ground. But the window would not open. Ida Markovna remembered that she had nailed the window from beneath and rushed to the stove, in which she kept her tools: four hammers, a chisel and pincers. Grabbing the pincers, Ida Markovna again ran up to the window and pulled out the nail. Now the window was easily flung open. Ida Markovna leaned out of the window and saw those who had fallen from the roof whistling towards the ground.
On the street a smallish crowd had already gathered. Whistles were already blowing and a diminutive militiaman was unhurriedly approaching the location of the anticipated event. A big-nosed caretaker bustled about, shoving people and explaining that those falling from the roof could smite the heads of those gathered below. By this time, both Ida Markovnas – the one in a dress and the other naked – having leaned out of their windows, were squealing and kicking their legs about. And so, finally, arms spread and eyes agape, those who had fallen from the roof struck the ground.
Just as on occasion we, falling from heights we have attained, may strike the dreary cage of our future.
(Written over four days. Finished [7 October] 1940)
The Drawback
Pronin said:
– You have very beautiful stockings.
Irina Mazer said:
– Do you like my stockings?
Pronin said:
– Oh yes. Very much. – And he made a grab at them with his hand.
Irina said:
– But why do you like my stockings?
Pronin said:
– They are very smooth.
Irina lifted her skirt and said:
– And do you see how high they go?
Pronin said:
– Oh yes, I do.
Irina said:
– But here they come to an end. Up here it’s bare leg.
– Oh, and what leg! – said Pronin.
– I’ve got very thick legs – said Irina. – And I’m very wide in the hips.
– Show me – said Pronin.
– I can’t – said Irina. – I’ve no knickers on.
Pronin got down on his knees in front of her.
Irina said:
– What are you kneeling for?
Pronin kissed her on the leg, a little above the stocking top, and said:
– That’s what for.
Irina said:
– Why are you lifting my skirt even higher? I’ve already told you I’ve no knickers on.
But Pronin lifted her skirt all the same and said:
– Never mind, never mind.
&nbs
p; – What do you mean, never mind? – said Irina.
But at this juncture someone was knocking at the door. Irina briskly pulled down her skirt and Pronin got up from the floor and went over to the window.
– Who’s there? – asked Irina through the door.
– Open the door – said a sharp voice.
Irina opened the door and into the room came a man in a black coat and high boots. Behind him came a pair of soldiers of the lowest rank, rifles at the ready, and behind them came the caretaker. The lower ranks stood by the door, while the man in the black coat went up to Irina Mazer and said:
– Your name?
– Mazer – said Irina.
– Your name? – asked the man in the back coat, turning to Pronin.
Pronin said:
– My name is Pronin.
– Do you have a weapon? – asked the man in the black coat.
– No – said Pronin.
– Sit down here – said the man in the black coat, indicating a chair to Pronin.
Pronin sat down.
– And you – said the man in the black coat, turning to Irina, – put your coat on. You’ll have to come for a ride with us.
– What for? – asked Irina.
The man in the black coat did not reply.
– I’ll need to change – said Irina.
– No – said the man in the black coat.
– But there’s something else I need to put on – said Irina.
– No – said the man in the black coat.
Irina put on her fur coat in silence.
– Good bye, then – she said to Pronin.
– Conversations are not allowed – said the man in the black coat.
– Do I come with you as well? – asked Pronin.
– Yes – said the man in the black coat. – Get your coat on.
Pronin stood up, took his coat and hat down from the peg, put them on and said:
The Plummeting Old Women Page 6