Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated)

by Ivan Turgenev

  The reader will now readily understand the perturbation of mind that overtook the steward Gavrila after his conversation with his mistress. ‘My lady,’ he thought, as he sat at the window, ‘favours Gerasim, to be sure’ — (Gavrila was well aware of this, and that was why he himself looked on him with an indulgent eye) — ’still he is a speechless creature. I could not, indeed, put it before the mistress that Gerasim’s courting Tatiana. But, after all, it’s true enough; he’s a queer sort of husband. But on the other hand, that devil, God forgive me, has only got to find out they’re marrying Tatiana to Kapiton, he’ll smash up everything in the house, ‘pon my soul! There’s no reasoning with him; why, he’s such a devil, God forgive my sins, there’s no getting over him no how … ‘pon my soul!’

  Kapiton’s entrance broke the thread of Gavrila’s reflections. The dissipated shoemaker came in, his hands behind him, and lounging carelessly against a projecting angle of the wall, near the door, crossed his right foot in front of his left, and tossed his head, as much as to say, ‘What do you want?’

  Gavrila looked at Kapiton, and drummed with his fingers on the window - frame. Kapiton merely screwed up his leaden eyes a little, but he did not look down, he even grinned slightly, and passed his hand over his whitish locks which were sticking up in all directions. ‘Well, here I am. What is it?’

  ‘You’re a pretty fellow,’ said Gavrila, and paused. ‘A pretty fellow you are, there’s no denying!’

  Kapiton only twitched his little shoulders.

  ‘Are you any better, pray?’ he thought to himself.

  ‘Just look at yourself, now, look at yourself,’ Gavrila went on reproachfully; ‘now, what ever do you look like?’

  Kapiton serenely surveyed his shabby tattered coat, and his patched trousers, and with special attention stared at his burst boots, especially the one on the tip - toe of which his right foot so gracefully poised, and he fixed his eyes again on the steward.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well?’ repeated Gavrila. ‘Well? And then you say well? You look like old Nick himself, God forgive my saying so, that’s what you look like.’

  Kapiton blinked rapidly.

  ‘Go on abusing me, go on, if you like, Gavrila Andreitch,’ he thought to himself again.

  ‘Here you’ve been drunk again,’ Gavrila began, ‘drunk again, haven’t you? Eh? Come, answer me!’

  ‘Owing to the weakness of my health, I have exposed myself to spirituous beverages, certainly,’ replied Kapiton.

  ‘Owing to the weakness of your health!… They let you off too easy, that’s what it is; and you’ve been apprenticed in Petersburg…. Much you learned in your apprenticeship! You simply eat your bread in idleness.’

  ‘In that matter, Gavrila Andreitch, there is one to judge me, the Lord God Himself, and no one else. He also knows what manner of man I be in this world, and whether I eat my bread in idleness. And as concerning your contention regarding drunkenness, in that matter, too, I am not to blame, but rather a friend; he led me into temptation, but was diplomatic and got away, while I….’

  ‘While you were left, like a goose, in the street. Ah, you’re a dissolute fellow! But that’s not the point,’ the steward went on, ‘I’ve something to tell you. Our lady…’ here he paused a minute, ‘it’s our lady’s pleasure that you should be married. Do you hear? She imagines you may be steadier when you’re married. Do you understand?’

  ‘To be sure I do.’

  ‘Well, then. For my part I think it would be better to give you a good hiding. But there — it’s her business. Well? are you agreeable?’ Kapiton grinned.

  ‘Matrimony is an excellent thing for any one, Gavrila Andreitch; and, as far as I am concerned, I shall be quite agreeable.’

  ‘Very well, then,’ replied Gavrila, while he reflected to himself: ‘there’s no denying the man expresses himself very properly. Only there’s one thing,’ he pursued aloud: ‘the wife our lady’s picked out for you is an unlucky choice.’

  ‘Why, who is she, permit me to inquire?’

  ‘Tatiana.’

  ‘Tatiana?’

  And Kapiton opened his eyes, and moved a little away from the wall.

  ‘Well, what are you in such a taking for?… Isn’t she to your taste, hey?’

  ‘Not to my taste, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch! She’s right enough, a hard - working steady girl…. But you know very well yourself, Gavrila Andreitch, why that fellow, that wild man of the woods, that monster of the steppes, he’s after her, you know….’

  ‘I know, mate, I know all about it,’ the butler cut him short in a tone of annoyance: ‘but there, you see….’

  ‘But upon my soul, Gavrila Andreitch! why, he’ll kill me, by God, he will, he’ll crush me like some fly; why, he’s got a fist — why, you kindly look yourself what a fist he’s got; why, he’s simply got a fist like Minin Pozharsky’s. You see he’s deaf, he beats and does not hear how he’s beating! He swings his great fists, as if he’s asleep. And there’s no possibility of pacifying him; and for why? Why, because, as you know yourself, Gavrila Andreitch, he’s deaf, and what’s more, has no more wit than the heel of my foot. Why, he’s a sort of beast, a heathen idol, Gavrila Andreitch, and worse … a block of wood; what have I done that I should have to suffer from him now? Sure it is, it’s all over with me now; I’ve knocked about, I’ve had enough to put up with, I’ve been battered like an earthenware pot, but still I’m a man, after all, and not a worthless pot.’

  ‘I know, I know, don’t go talking away….’

  ‘Lord, my God!’ the shoemaker continued warmly, ‘when is the end? when, O Lord! A poor wretch I am, a poor wretch whose sufferings are endless! What a life, what a life mine’s been, come to think of it! In my young days, I was beaten by a German I was ‘prentice to; in the prime of life beaten by my own countrymen, and last of all, in ripe years, see what I have been brought to….’

  ‘Ugh, you flabby soul!’ said Gavrila Andreitch. ‘Why do you make so many words about it?’

  ‘Why, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch? It’s not a beating I’m afraid of, Gavrila Andreitch. A gentleman may chastise me in private, but give me a civil word before folks, and I’m a man still; but see now, whom I’ve to do with….’

  ‘Come, get along,’ Gavrila interposed impatiently. Kapiton turned away and staggered off.

  ‘But, if it were not for him,’ the steward shouted after him, ‘you would consent for your part?’

  ‘I signify my acquiescence,’ retorted Kapiton as he disappeared.

  His fine language did not desert him, even in the most trying positions.

  The steward walked several times up and down the room.

  ‘Well, call Tatiana now,’ he said at last.

  A few instants later, Tatiana had come up almost noiselessly, and was standing in the doorway.

  ‘What are your orders, Gavrila Andreitch?’ she said in a soft voice.

  The steward looked at her intently.

  ‘Well, Taniusha,’ he said, ‘would you like to be married? Our lady has chosen a husband for you.’

  ‘Yes, Gavrila Andreitch. And whom has she deigned to name as a husband for me?’ she added falteringly.

  ‘Kapiton, the shoemaker.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘He’s a feather - brained fellow, that’s certain. But it’s just for that the mistress reckons upon you.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘There’s one difficulty … you know the deaf man, Gerasim, he’s courting you, you see. How did you come to bewitch such a bear? But you see, he’ll kill you, very like, he’s such a bear….’

  ‘He’ll kill me, Gavrila Andreitch, he’ll kill me, and no mistake.’

  ‘Kill you…. Well, we shall see about that. What do you mean by saying he’ll kill you? Has he any right to kill you? tell me yourself.’

  ‘I don’t know, Gavrila Andreitch, about his having any right or not.’

  ‘What a woman! why, you’ve made him no promise, I suppose….�
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  ‘What are you pleased to ask of me?’

  The steward was silent for a little, thinking, ‘You’re a meek soul! Well, that’s right,’ he said aloud; ‘we’ll have another talk with you later, now you can go, Taniusha; I see you’re not unruly, certainly.’

  Tatiana turned, steadied herself a little against the doorpost, and went away.

  ‘And, perhaps, our lady will forget all about this wedding by to - morrow,’ thought the steward; ‘and here am I worrying myself for nothing! As for that insolent fellow, we must tie him down, if it comes to that, we must let the police know’ … ‘Ustinya Fyedorovna!’ he shouted in a loud voice to his wife, ‘heat the samovar, my good soul….’ All that day Tatiana hardly went out of the laundry. At first she had started crying, then she wiped away her tears, and set to work as before. Kapiton stayed till late at night at the ginshop with a friend of his, a man of gloomy appearance, to whom he related in detail how he used to live in Petersburg with a gentleman, who would have been all right, except he was a bit too strict, and he had a slight weakness besides, he was too fond of drink; and, as to the fair sex, he didn’t stick at anything. His gloomy companion merely said yes; but when Kapiton announced at last that, in a certain event, he would have to lay hands on himself to - morrow, his gloomy companion remarked that it was bedtime. And they parted in surly silence.

  Meanwhile, the steward’s anticipations were not fulfilled. The old lady was so much taken up with the idea of Kapiton’s wedding, that even in the night she talked of nothing else to one of her companions, who was kept in her house solely to entertain her in case of sleeplessness, and, like a night cabman, slept in the day. When Gavrila came to her after morning tea with his report, her first question was: ‘And how about our wedding — is it getting on all right?’ He replied, of course, that it was getting on first rate, and that Kapiton would appear before her to pay his reverence to her that day. The old lady was not quite well; she did not give much time to business. The steward went back to his own room, and called a council. The matter certainly called for serious consideration. Tatiana would make no difficulty, of course; but Kapiton had declared in the hearing of all that he had but one head to lose, not two or three…. Gerasim turned rapid sullen looks on every one, would not budge from the steps of the maids’ quarters, and seemed to guess that some mischief was being hatched against him. They met together. Among them was an old sideboard waiter, nicknamed Uncle Tail, to whom every one looked respectfully for counsel, though all they got out of him was, ‘Here’s a pretty pass! to be sure, to be sure, to be sure!’ As a preliminary measure of security, to provide against contingencies, they locked Kapiton up in the lumber - room where the filter was kept; then considered the question with the gravest deliberation, It would, to be sure, be easy to have recourse to force. But Heaven save us! there would be an uproar, the mistress would be put out — it would be awful! What should they do? They thought and thought, and at last thought out a solution. It had many a time been observed that Gerasim could not bear drunkards…. As he sat at the gates, he would always turn away with disgust when some one passed by intoxicated, with unsteady steps and his cap on one side of his ear. They resolved that Tatiana should be instructed to pretend to be tipsy, and should pass by Gerasim staggering and reeling about. The poor girl refused for a long while to agree to this, but they persuaded her at last; she saw, too, that it was the only possible way of getting rid of her adorer. She went out. Kapiton was released from the lumber - room; for, after all, he had an interest in the affair. Gerasim was sitting on the curb - stone at the gates, scraping the ground with a spade…. From behind every corner, from behind every window - blind, the others were watching him…. The trick succeeded beyond all expectations. On seeing Tatiana, at first, he nodded as usual, making caressing, inarticulate sounds; then he looked carefully at her, dropped his spade, jumped up, went up to her, brought his face close to her face…. In her fright she staggered more than ever, and shut her eyes…. He took her by the arm, whirled her right across the yard, and going into the room where the council had been sitting, pushed her straight at Kapiton. Tatiana fairly swooned away…. Gerasim stood, looked at her, waved his hand, laughed, and went off, stepping heavily, to his garret…. For the next twenty - four hours, he did not come out of it. The postillion Antipka said afterwards that he saw Gerasim through a. crack in the wall, sitting on his bedstead, his face in his hand. From time to time he uttered soft regular sounds; he was wailing a dirge, that is, swaying backwards and forwards with his eyes shut, and shaking his head as drivers or bargemen do when they chant their melancholy songs. Antipka could not bear it, and he came away from the crack. When Gerasim came out of the garret next day, no particular change could be observed in him. He only seemed, as it were, more morose, and took not the slightest notice of Tatiana or Kapiton. The same evening, they both had to appear before their mistress with geese under their arms, and in a week’s time they were married. Even on the day of the wedding Gerasim showed no change of any sort in his behaviour. Only, he came back from the river without water, he had somehow broken the barrel on the road; and at night, in the stable, he washed and rubbed down his horse so vigorously, that it swayed like a blade of grass in the wind, and staggered from one leg to the other under his fists of iron.

  All this had taken place in the spring. Another year passed by, during which Kapiton became a hopeless drunkard, and as being absolutely of no use for anything, was sent away with the store waggons to a distant village with his wife. On the day of his departure, he put a very good face on it at first, and declared that he would always be at home, send him where they would, even to the other end of the world; but later on he lost heart, began grumbling that he was being taken to uneducated people, and collapsed so completely at last that he could not even put his own hat on. Some charitable soul stuck it on his forehead, set the peak straight in front, and thrust it on with a slap from above. When everything was quite ready, and the peasants already held the reins in their hands, and were only waiting for the words ‘With God’s blessing!’ to start, Gerasim came out of his garret, went up to Tatiana, and gave her as a parting present a red cotton handkerchief he had bought for her a year ago. Tatiana, who had up to that instant borne all the revolting details of her life with great indifference, could not control herself upon that; she burst into tears, and as she took her seat in the cart, she kissed Gerasim three times like a good Christian. He meant to accompany her as far as the town - barrier, and did walk beside her cart for a while, but he stopped suddenly at the Crimean ford, waved his hand, and walked away along the riverside.

  It was getting towards evening. He walked slowly, watching the water. All of a sudden he fancied something was floundering in the mud close to the bank. He stooped over, and saw a little white - and - black puppy, who, in spite of all its efforts, could not get out of the water; it was struggling, slipping back, and trembling all over its thin wet little body. Gerasim looked at the unlucky little dog, picked it up with one hand, put it into the bosom of his coat, and hurried with long steps homewards. He went into his garret, put the rescued puppy on his bed, covered it with his thick overcoat, ran first to the stable for straw, and then to the kitchen for a cup of milk. Carefully folding back the overcoat, and spreading out the straw, he set the milk on the bedstead. The poor little puppy was not more than three weeks old, its eyes were only just open — one eye still seemed rather larger than the other; it did not know how to lap out of a cup, and did nothing but shiver and blink. Gerasim took hold of its head softly with two fingers, and dipped its little nose into the milk. The pup suddenly began lapping greedily, sniffing, shaking itself, and choking. Gerasim watched and watched it, and all at once he laughed outright…. All night long he was waiting on it, keeping it covered, and rubbing it dry. He fell asleep himself at last, and slept quietly and happily by its side.

  No mother could have looked after her baby as Gerasim looked after his little nursling. At first, she — for the pup turned out t
o be a bitch — was very weak, feeble, and ugly, but by degrees she grew stronger and improved in looks, and thanks to the unflagging care of her preserver, in eight months’ time she was transformed into a very pretty dog of the spaniel breed, with long ears, a bushy spiral tail, and large expressive eyes. She was devotedly attached to Gerasim, and was never a yard from his side; she always followed him about wagging her tail. He had even given her a name — the dumb know that their inarticulate noises call the attention of others. He called her Mumu. All the servants in the house liked her, and called her Mumu, too. She was very intelligent, she was friendly with every one, but was only fond of Gerasim. Gerasim, on his side, loved her passionately, and he did not like it when other people stroked her; whether he was afraid for her, or jealous — God knows! She used to wake him in the morning, pulling at his coat; she used to take the reins in her mouth, and bring him up the old horse that carried the water, with whom she was on very friendly terms. With a face of great importance, she used to go with him to the river; she used to watch his brooms and spades, and never allowed any one to go into his garret. He cut a little hole in his door on purpose for her, and she seemed to feel that only in Gerasim’s garret she was completely mistress and at home; and directly she went in, she used to jump with a satisfied air upon the bed. At night she did not sleep at all, but she never barked without sufficient cause, like some stupid house - dog, who, sitting on its hind - legs, blinking, with its nose in the air, barks simply from dulness, at the stars, usually three times in succession. No! Mumu’s delicate little voice was never raised without good reason; either some stranger was passing close to the fence, or there was some suspicious sound or rustle somewhere…. In fact, she was an excellent watch - dog. It is true that there was another dog in the yard, a tawny old dog with brown spots, called Wolf, but he was never, even at night, let off the chain; and, indeed, he was so decrepit that he did not even wish for freedom. He used to lie curled up in his kennel, and only rarely uttered a sleepy, almost noiseless bark, which broke off at once, as though he were himself aware of its uselessness. Mumu never went into the mistress’s house; and when Gerasim carried wood into the rooms, she always stayed behind, impatiently waiting for him at the steps, pricking up her ears and turning her head to right and to left at the slightest creak of the door….