الفصل الفصل 5 · THE DOG
. THE DOG
(1866)
“But if we can admit the possibility of the supernatural, the
possibility of its intervention in real life,--then allow me to inquire,
what rôle is sound judgment bound to play after this?”--shouted Antón
Stepánitch, crossing his arms on his stomach.
Antón Stepánitch had held the rank of State Councillor,[35] had served
in some wonderful department, and, as his speech was interlarded with
pauses and was slow and uttered in a bass voice, he enjoyed universal
respect. Not long before the date of our story, “the good-for-nothing
little Order of St. Stanislas had been stuck on him,” as those who
envied him expressed it.
“That is perfectly just,”--remarked Skvorévitch.
“No one will dispute that,”--added Kinarévitch.
“I assent also,”--chimed in, in falsetto, from a corner the master of
the house, Mr. Finopléntoff.
“But I, I must confess, cannot assent, because something supernatural
has happened to me,”--said a man of medium stature and middle age, with
a protruding abdomen and a bald spot, who had been sitting silent before
the stove up to that moment. The glances of all present in the room were
turned upon him with curiosity and surprise--and silence reigned.
This man was a landed proprietor of Kalúga, not wealthy, who had
recently come to Petersburg. He had once served in the hussars, had
gambled away his property, resigned from the service and settled down in
the country. The recent agricultural changes had cut off his revenues,
and he had betaken himself to the capital in search of a snug little
position. He possessed no abilities, and had no influential connections;
but he placed great reliance on the friendship of an old comrade in the
service, who had suddenly, without rhyme or reason, become a person of
importance, and whom he had once aided to administer a sound thrashing
to a card-sharper. Over and above that he counted upon his own luck--and
it had not betrayed him; several days later he obtained the post of
inspector of government storehouses, a profitable, even honourable
position which did not require extraordinary talents: the storehouses
themselves existed only in contemplation, and no one even knew with
certainty what they were to contain,--but they had been devised as a
measure of governmental economy.
Antón Stepánitch was the first to break the general silence.
“What, my dear sir?”--he began. “Do you seriously assert that something
supernatural--I mean to say, incompatible with the laws of nature--has
happened to you?”
“I do,”--returned “my dear sir,” whose real name was Porfíry
Kapítonitch.
“Incompatible with the laws of nature?”--energetically repeated Antón
Stepánitch, who evidently liked that phrase.
“Precisely ... yes; precisely the sort of thing you allude to.”
“This is astonishing! What think you, gentlemen?”--Antón Stepánitch
endeavoured to impart to his features an ironical expression, but
without result--or, to speak more accurately, the only result was to
produce the effect that Mr. State Councillor smelt a bad odour.--“Will
not you be so kind, my dear sir,”--he went on, addressing the landed
proprietor from Kalúga,--“as to communicate to us the particulars of
such a curious event?”
“Why not? Certainly!”--replied the landed proprietor, and moving forward
to the middle of the room in an easy manner he spoke as follows:
I have, gentlemen, as you are probably aware,--or as you may not be
aware,--a small estate in Kozyól County. I formerly derived some profit
from it--but now, of course, nothing but unpleasantness is to be
anticipated. However, let us put politics aside! Well, sir, on that same
estate I have a “wee little” manor: a vegetable garden, as is proper, a
tiny pond with little carp, and some sort of buildings--well, and a
small wing for my own sinful body.... I am a bachelor. So, sir, one
day--about six years ago--I had returned home rather late; I had been
playing cards at a neighbour’s house--but I beg you to observe, I was
not tipsy, as the expression goes. I undressed, got into bed, and blew
out the light. And just imagine, gentlemen; no sooner had I blown out
the light, than something began to rummage under my bed! Is it a rat? I
thought. No, it was not a rat: it clawed and fidgeted and scratched
itself.... At last it began to flap its ears!
It was a dog--that was clear. But where had the dog come from? I keep
none myself. “Can some stray animal have run in?” I thought. I called to
my servant; his name is Fílka. The man entered with a candle.
“What’s this,”--says I,--“my good Fílka? How lax thou art! A dog has
intruded himself under my bed.”
“What dog?”--says he.
“How should I know?”--says I;--“that’s thy affair--not to allow thy
master to be disturbed.”
My Fílka bent down, and began to pass the candle about under the bed.
“Why,”--says he,--“there’s no dog here.”
I bent down also; in fact there was no dog.... Here was a marvel! I
turned my eyes on Fílka: he was smiling.
“Fool,”--said I to him,--“what art thou grinning about? When thou didst
open the door the dog probably took and sneaked out into the anteroom.
But thou, gaper, didst notice nothing, because thou art eternally
asleep. Can it be that thou thinkest I am drunk?”
He attempted to reply, but I drove him out, curled myself up in a ring,
and heard nothing more that night.
But on the following night--just imagine!--the same thing was repeated.
No sooner had I blown out the light than it began to claw and flap its
ears. Again I summoned Fílka, again he looked under the bed--again
nothing! I sent him away, blew out the light--phew, damn it! there was
the dog still. And a dog it certainly was: I could hear it breathing and
rummaging in its hair with its teeth in search of fleas so plainly!
“Fílka!”--says I,--“come hither without a light!”... He entered....
“Well, now,”--says I, “dost thou hear?...”
“I do,”--said he. I could not see him, but I felt that the fellow was
quailing.
“What dost thou make of it?”--said I.
“What dost thou command me to make of it, Porfíry Kapítonitch?... ’Tis
an instigation of the Evil One!”
“Thou art a lewd fellow; hold thy tongue with thy instigation of the
Evil One.”... But the voices of both of us were like those of birds,
and we were shaking as though in a fever--in the darkness. I lighted a
candle: there was no dog, and no noise whatever--only Fílka and I as
white as clay. And I must inform you, gentlemen--you can believe me or
not--but from that night forth for the space of six weeks the same thing
went on. At last I even got accustomed to it and took to extinguishing
my light because I cannot sleep with a light. “Let him fidget!” I
thought. “It doesn’t harm me.”
“But--I see--that you do not belong to the cowardly squad,”--interrupted
Antón Stepánitch, with a half-scornful, half-condescending laugh. “The
hussar is immediately perceptible!”
“I should not be frightened at you, in any case,”--said Porfíry
Kapítonitch, and for a moment he really did look like a hussar.--“But
listen further.”
A neighbour came to me, the same one with whom I was in the habit of
playing cards. He dined with me on what God had sent, and lost fifty
rubles to me for his visit; night was drawing on--it was time for him to
go. But I had calculations of my own:--“Stop and spend the night with
me, Vasíly Vasílitch; to-morrow thou wilt win it back, God willing.”
My Vasíly Vasílitch pondered and pondered--and stayed. I ordered a bed
to be placed for him in my own chamber.... Well, sir, we went to bed,
smoked, chattered,--chiefly about the feminine sex, as is fitting in
bachelor society,--and laughed, as a matter of course. I look; Vasíly
Vasílitch has put out his candle and has turned his back on me; that
signifies: “_Schlafen Sie wohl._” I waited a little and extinguished my
candle also. And imagine: before I had time to think to myself, “What
sort of performance will there be now?” my dear little animal began to
make a row. And that was not all; he crawled out from under the bed,
walked across the room, clattering his claws on the floor, waggling his
ears, and suddenly collided with a chair which stood by the side of
Vasíly Vasílitch’s bed!
“Porfíry Kapítonitch,”--says Vasíly Vasílitch, and in such an
indifferent voice, you know,--“I didn’t know that thou hadst taken to
keeping a dog. What sort of an animal is it--a setter?”
“I have no dog,”--said I,--“and I never have had one.”
“Thou hast not indeed! But what’s this?”
“What is this?”--said I.--“See here now; light the candle and thou wilt
find out for thyself.”
“It isn’t a dog?”
“No.”
Vasíly Vasílitch turned over in bed.--“But thou art jesting, damn it?”
“No, I’m not jesting.”--I hear him go scratch, scratch with a match, and
that thing does not stop, but scratches its side. The flame flashed up
... and basta! There was not a trace of a dog! Vasíly Vasílitch stared
at me--and I stared at him.
“What sort of a trick is this?”--said he.
“Why,”--said I,--“this is such a trick that if thou wert to set Socrates
himself on one side and Frederick the Great on the other even they
couldn’t make head or tail of it.”--And thereupon I told him all in
detail. Up jumped my Vasíly Vasílitch as though he had been singed! He
couldn’t get into his boots.
“Horses!”--he yelled--“horses!”
I began to argue with him, but in vain. He simply groaned.
“I won’t stay,”--he shouted,--“not a minute!--Of course, after this,
thou art a doomed man!--Horses!...”
But I prevailed upon him. Only his bed was dragged out into another
room--and night-lights were lighted everywhere. In the morning, at tea,
he recovered his dignity; he began to give me advice.
“Thou shouldst try absenting thyself from the house for several days,
Porfíry Kapítonitch,” he said: “perhaps that vile thing would leave
thee.”
But I must tell you that he--that neighbour of mine--had a capacious
mind! he worked his mother-in-law so famously among other things: he
palmed off a note of hand on her; which signifies that he chose the most
vulnerable moment! She became like silk: she gave him a power of
attorney over all her property--what more would you have? But that was a
great affair--to twist his mother-in-law round his finger--wasn’t it,
hey? Judge for yourselves. But he went away from me somewhat
discontented; I had punished him to the extent of another hundred
rubles. He even swore at me: “Thou art ungrateful,”--he said, “thou hast
no feeling;” but how was I to blame for that? Well, this is in
parenthesis--but I took his suggestion under consideration. That same
day I drove off to town and established myself in an inn, with an
acquaintance, an old man of the Old Ritualist sect.[36]
He was a worthy old man, although a trifle harsh, because of
loneliness: his whole family were dead. Only he did not favour tobacco
at all,[37] and felt a great loathing for dogs; I believe, for example,
that rather than admit a dog into the room he would have rent himself in
twain! “For how is it possible?”--he said. “There in my room, on the
wall, the Sovereign Lady herself deigns to dwell;[38] and shall a filthy
dog thrust his accursed snout in there?”--That was ignorance, of course!
However, this is my opinion: if any man has been vouchsafed wisdom, let
him hold to it!
“But you are a great philosopher, I see,”--interrupted Antón Stepánitch
again, with the same laugh as before.
This time Porfíry Kapítonitch even scowled.
“What sort of a philosopher I am no one knows,”--he said as his
moustache twitched in a surly manner:--“but I would gladly take you as a
pupil.”
We all fairly bored our eyes into Antón Stepánitch; each one of us
expected an arrogant retort or at least a lightning glance.... But Mr.
State Councillor altered his smile from scorn to indifference, then
yawned, dangled his foot--and that was all!
So then, I settled down at that old man’s house--[went on Porfíry
Kapítonitch].--He assigned me a room “for acquaintance’s” sake,--not of
the best; he himself lodged there also, behind a partition--and that was
all I required. But what tortures I did undergo! The chamber was small,
it was hot, stifling, and there were flies, and such sticky ones; in the
corner was a remarkably large case for images, with ancient holy
pictures; their garments were dim and puffed out; the air was fairly
infected with olive-oil, and some sort of a spice in addition; on the
bedstead were two down beds; if you moved a pillow, out ran a cockroach
from beneath it.... I drank an incredible amount of tea, out of sheer
tedium--it was simply horrible! I got into bed; it was impossible to
sleep.--And on the other side of the partition my host was sighing and
grunting and reciting his prayers. I heard him begin to snore--and very
lightly and courteously, in old-fashioned style. I had long since
extinguished my candle--only the shrine-lamp was twinkling in front of
the holy pictures.... A hindrance, of course! So I took and rose up
softly, in my bare feet: I reached up to the lamp and blew it out....
Nothing happened.--“Aha!” I thought: “this means that he won’t make a
fuss in the house of strangers.”... But no sooner had I lain down on
the bed than the row began again! The thing clawed, and scratched
himself and flapped his ears ... well, just as I wanted him to. Good! I
lay there and waited to see what would happen. I heard the old man wake
up.
“Master,”--said he,--“hey there, master?”
“What’s wanted?”--said I.
“Was it thou who didst put out the shrine-lamp?”--And without awaiting
my reply, he suddenly began to mumble:
“What’s that? What’s that? A dog? A dog? Akh, thou damned Nikonian!”[39]
“Wait a bit, old man,”--said I,--“before thou cursest; but it would be
better for thee to come hither thyself. Things deserving of wonder are
going on here,”--said I.
The old man fussed about behind the partition and entered my room with a
candle, a slender one, of yellow wax; and I was amazed as I looked at
him! He was all bristling, with shaggy ears and vicious eyes like those
of a polecat; on his head was a small skull-cap of white felt; his beard
reached to his girdle and was white also; and he had on a waistcoat with
brass buttons over his shirt, and fur boots on his feet, and he
disseminated an odour of juniper. In that condition he went up to the
holy pictures, crossed himself thrice with two fingers[40] lighted the
shrine-lamp, crossed himself again, and turning to me, merely grunted:
“Explain thyself!”
Thereupon, without the least delay, I communicated to him all the
circumstances. The old man listened to all my explanations without
uttering the smallest word; he simply kept shaking his head. Then he sat
down on my bed, still maintaining silence. He scratched his breast, the
back of his head, and other places, and still remained silent.
“Well, Feodúl Ivánitch,”--said I, “what is thy opinion: is this some
sort of visitation of the Evil One, thinkest thou?”
The old man stared at me.--“A pretty thing thou hast invented! A
visitation of the Evil One, forsooth! ’Twould be all right at thy house,
thou tobacco-user,--but ’tis quite another thing here! Only consider how
many holy things there are here! And thou must needs have a visitation
of the devil!--And if it isn’t that, what is it?”
The old man relapsed into silence, scratched himself again, and at last
he said, but in a dull sort of way, because his moustache kept crawling
into his mouth:
“Go thou to the town of Byéleff. There is only one man who can help
thee. And that man dwells in Byéleff;[41] he is one of our people. If
he takes a fancy to help thee, that’s thy good luck; if he doesn’t take
a fancy,--so it must remain.”
“But how am I to find him?”--said I.
“We can give thee directions,”--said he;--“only why dost thou call this
a visitation of the devil? ’Tis a vision, or a sign; but thou wilt not
be able to comprehend it; ’tis not within thy flight. And now lie down
and sleep under Christ’s protection, dear little father; I will fumigate
with incense; and in the morning we will take counsel together. The
morning is wiser than the evening, thou knowest.”
Well, sir, and we did take counsel together in the morning--only I came
near choking to death with that same incense. And the old man instructed
me after this wise: that when I had reached Byéleff I was to go to the
public square, and in the second shop on the right inquire for a certain
Prokhóritch; and having found Prokhóritch, I was to hand him a document.
And the whole document consisted of a scrap of paper, on which was
written the following: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and
of the Holy Spirit, Amen. To Sergyéi Prokhóritch Pervúshin. Trust this
man. Feodúly Ivánovitch.” And below: “Send some cabbages, for God’s
sake.”
I thanked the old man, and without further ado ordered my tarantás to be
harnessed, and set off for Byéleff. For I argued in this way: admitting
that my nocturnal visitor did not cause me much grief, still,
nevertheless, it was not quite decorous for a nobleman and an
officer--what do you think about it?
“And did you really go to Byéleff?”--whispered Mr. Finopléntoff.
I did, straight to Byéleff. I went to the square, and inquired in the
second shop on the right for Prokhóritch. “Is there such a man?”--I
asked.
“There is,”--I was told.
“And where does he live?”
“On the Oká, beyond the vegetable-gardens.”
“In whose house?”[42]
“His own.”
I wended my way to the Oká, searched out his house, that is to say, not
actually a house, but a downright hovel. I beheld a man in a patched
blue overcoat and a tattered cap,--of the petty burgher class, judging
by his appearance,--standing with his back to me, and digging in his
cabbage-garden.--I went up to him.
“Are you such and such a one?”--said I.
He turned round,--and to tell you the truth, such piercing eyes I have
never seen in all my life. But his whole face was no bigger than one’s
fist; his beard was wedge-shaped, and his lips were sunken: he was an
aged man.
“I am he,”--he said.--“What do you wanta?”
“Why, here,”--said I;--“this is what I wanta,”--and I placed the
document in his hand. He gazed at me very intently, and said:
“Please come into the house; I cannot read without my spectacles.”
Well, sir, he and I went into his kennel--actually, a regular kennel;
poor, bare, crooked; it barely held together. On the wall was a holy
picture of ancient work,[43] as black as a coal; only the whites of the
eyes were fairly burning in the faces of the holy people. He took some
round iron spectacles from a small table, placed them on his nose,
perused the writing, and through his spectacles again scrutinised me.
“You have need of me?”
“I have,”--said I,--“that’s the fact.”
“Well,”--said he, “if you have, then make your statement, and I will
listen.”
And just imagine; he sat down, and pulling a checked handkerchief from
his pocket, he spread it out on his knees--and the handkerchief was full
of holes--and gazed at me as solemnly as though he had been a
senator,[44] or some minister or other; and did not ask me to sit down.
And what was still more astonishing, I suddenly felt myself growing
timid, so timid ... simply, my soul sank into my heels. He pierced me
through and through with his eyes, and that’s all there is to be said!
But I recovered my self-possession, and narrated to him my whole story.
He remained silent for a while, shrank together, mowed with his lips,
and then began to interrogate me, still as though he were a senator, so
majestically and without haste. “What is your name?”--he asked. “How old
are you? Who were your parents? Are you a bachelor or married?”--Then he
began to mow with his lips again, frowned, thrust out his finger and
said:
“Do reverence to the holy image of the honourable saints of
Solovétzk,[45] Zósim and Saváty.”
I made a reverence to the earth, and did not rise to my feet; such awe
and submission did I feel for that man that I believe I would have
instantly done anything whatsoever he might have ordered me!... I see
that you are smiling, gentlemen; but I was in no mood for laughing then,
by Heaven I was not.
“Rise, sir,”--he said at last.--“It is possible to help you. This has
not been sent to you by way of punishment, but as a warning; it
signifies that you are being looked after; some one is praying earnestly
for you. Go now to the bazaar and buy yourself a bitch, which you must
keep by you day and night, without ceasing. Your visions will cease, and
your dog will prove necessary to you into the bargain.”
A flash of light seemed suddenly to illuminate me; how those words did
please me! I made obeisance to Prokhóritch, and was on the point of
departing, but remembered that it was impossible for me not to show him
my gratitude; I drew a three-ruble note from my pocket. But he put aside
my hand and said to me:
“Give it to our chapel, or to the poor, for this service is gratis.”
Again I made him an obeisance, nearly to the girdle, and immediately
marched off to the bazaar. And fancy, no sooner had I begun to approach
the shops when behold, a man in a frieze cloak advanced to meet me, and
under his arm he carried a setter bitch, two months old, with
light-brown hair, a white muzzle, and white fore paws.
“Halt!” said I to the man in the frieze cloak; “what will you take for
her?”
“Two rubles in silver.”
“Take three!”
The man was astonished, and thought the gentleman had lost his mind--but
I threw a banknote in his teeth, seized the bitch in my arms, and
rushed to my tarantás. The coachman harnessed up the horses briskly, and
that same evening I was at home. The dog sat on my lap during the whole
journey--and never uttered a sound; but I kept saying to her:
“Tresórushko! Tresórushko!” I immediately gave her food and water,
ordered straw to be brought, put her to bed, and dashed into bed myself.
I blew out the light; darkness reigned.
“Come now, begin!”--said I.--Silence.--“Do begin, thou thus and
so!”--Not a sound. It was laughable. I began to take courage.--“Come
now, begin, thou thus and so, and ’tother thing!” But nothing
happened--there was a complete lull! The only thing to be heard was the
bitch breathing hard.
“Fílka!”--I shouted;--“Fílka! Come hither, stupid man!”--He
entered.--“Dost thou hear the dog?”
“No, master,”--said he,--“I don’t hear anything,”--and began to laugh.
“And thou wilt not hear it again forever! Here’s half a ruble for thee
for vodka!”
“Please let me kiss your hand,”--said the fool, and crawled to me in the
dark.... My joy was great, I can tell you!
“And was that the end of it all?”--asked Antón Stepánitch, no longer
ironically.
The visions did cease, it is true--and there were no disturbances of any
sort--but wait, that was not the end of the whole matter. My
Tresórushko began to grow, and turned out a cunning rogue. Thick-tailed,
heavy, flop-eared, with drooping dewlaps, she was a regular
“take-advance,”--a thoroughgoing good setter. And moreover, she became
greatly attached to me. Hunting is bad in our parts,--well, but as I had
set up a dog I had to supply myself with a gun also. I began to roam
about the surrounding country with my Tresór; sometimes I would knock
over a hare (my heavens, how she did course those hares!), and sometimes
a quail or a duck. But the chief point was that Tresór never, never
strayed a step away from me. Wherever I went, there she went also; I
even took her to the bath with me--truly! One of our young gentlewomen
undertook to eject me from her drawing-room on account of Tresór; but I
raised such a row that I smashed some of her window-panes!
Well, sir, one day--it happened in summer.... And I must tell you that
there was such a drought that no one could recall its like; the air was
full of something which was neither smoke nor fog; there was an odour of
burning, and mist, and the sun was like a red-hot cannon-ball; and the
dust was such that one could not leave off sneezing! People went about
with their mouths gaping open, just like crows.
It bored me to sit at home constantly in complete undress, behind closed
shutters; and by the way, the heat was beginning to moderate.... And
so, gentlemen, I set off afoot to the house of one of my neighbours.
This neighbour of mine lived about a verst from me,--and was really a
benevolent lady. She was still young and blooming, and of the most
attractive exterior; only she had a fickle disposition. But that is no
detriment in the feminine sex; it even affords pleasure.... So, then, I
trudged to her porch--and that trip seemed very salt to me! Well, I
thought, Nimfodóra Semyónovna will regale me with bilberry-water, and
other refreshments--and I had already grasped the door-handle when,
suddenly, around the corner of the servants’ cottage there arose a
trampling of feet, a squealing and shouting of small boys.... I looked
round. O Lord, my God! Straight toward me was dashing a huge, reddish
beast, which at first sight I did not recognise as a dog; its jaws were
gaping, its eyes were blood-shot, its hair stood on end.... Before I
could take breath the monster leaped upon the porch, elevated itself on
its hind legs, and fell straight on my breast. What do you think of that
situation? I was swooning with fright, and could not lift my arms; I was
completely stupefied; ... all I could see were the white tusks right at
the end of my nose, the red tongue all swathed in foam. But at that
moment another dark body soared through the air in front of me, like a
ball--it was my darling Tresór coming to my rescue; and she went at
that beast’s throat like a leech! The beast rattled hoarsely in the
throat, gnashed its teeth, staggered back.... With one jerk I tore open
the door, and found myself in the anteroom. I stood there, beside myself
with terror, threw my whole body against the lock, and listened to a
desperate battle which was in progress on the porch. I began to shout,
to call for help; every one in the house took alarm. Nimfodóra
Semyónovna ran up with hair unbraided; voices clamoured in the
courtyard--and suddenly there came a cry: “Hold him, hold him, lock the
gate!”
I opened the door,--just a crack,--and looked. The monster was no longer
on the porch. People were rushing in disorder about the courtyard,
flourishing their arms, picking up billets of wood from the ground--just
as though they had gone mad. “To the village! It has run to the
village!” shrieked shrilly a peasant-woman in a pointed coronet
head-dress of unusual dimensions, thrusting her head through a
garret-window. I emerged from the house.
“Where is Tresór?”--said I.--And at that moment I caught sight of my
saviour. She was walking away from the gate, limping, all bitten, and
covered with blood....
“But what was it, after all?”--I asked the people, as they went circling
round the courtyard like crazy folk.
“A mad dog!”--they answered me, “belonging to the Count; it has been
roving about here since yesterday.”
We had a neighbour, a Count; he had introduced some very dreadful dogs
from over-sea. My knees gave way beneath me; I hastened to the mirror
and looked to see whether I had been bitten. No; God be thanked, nothing
was visible; only, naturally, my face was all green; but Nimfodóra
Semyónovna was lying on the couch, and clucking like a hen. And that was
easily to be understood: in the first place, nerves; in the second
place, sensibility. But she came to herself, and asked me in a very
languid way: was I alive? I told her that I was, and that Tresór was my
saviour.
“Akh,”--said she,--“what nobility! And I suppose the mad dog smothered
her?”
“No,”--said I,--“it did not smother her, but it wounded her seriously.”
“Akh,”--said she,--“in that case, she must be shot this very moment!”
“Nothing of the sort,”--said I;--“I won’t agree to that; I shall try to
cure her.” ...
In the meanwhile, Tresór began to scratch at the door; I started to open
it for her.
“Akh,”--cried she,--“what are you doing? Why, she will bite us all
dreadfully!”
“Pardon me,”--said I,--“the poison does not take effect so soon.”
“Akh,”--said she,--“how is that possible? Why, you have gone out of your
mind!”
“Nimfótchka,”--said I,--“calm thyself; listen to reason....”
But all at once she began to scream: “Go away; go away this instant with
your disgusting dog!”
“I will go,”--said I.
“Instantly,”--said she,--“this very second! Take thyself off,
brigand,”--said she,--“and don’t dare ever to show yourself in my sight
again. Thou mightest go mad thyself!”
“Very good, ma’am,”--said I; “only give me an equipage, for I am afraid
to go home on foot now.”
She riveted her eyes on me. “Give, give him a calash, a carriage, a
drozhky, whatever he wants,--anything, for the sake of getting rid of
him as quickly as possible. Akh, what eyes! akh, what eyes he has!”--And
with these words she flew out of the room, dealing a maid who was
entering a box on the ear,--and I heard her go off into another fit of
hysterics.--And you may believe me or not, gentlemen, but from that day
forth I broke off all acquaintance with Nimfodóra Semyónovna; and,
taking all things into mature consideration, I cannot but add that for
that circumstance also I owe my friend Tresór a debt of gratitude until
I lie down in my coffin.
Well, sir, I ordered a calash to be harnessed, placed Tresór in it, and
drove off home with her. At home I looked her over, washed her wounds,
and thought to myself: “I’ll take her to-morrow, as soon as it is light,
to the wizard in Efrém County. Now this wizard was an old peasant, a
wonderful man; he would whisper over water--but others say that he
emitted serpents’ venom on it--and give it to you to drink, and your
malady would instantly disappear. By the way, I thought, I’ll get myself
bled in Efrémovo; ’tis a good remedy for terror; only, of course, not
from the arm, but from the bleeding-vein.”
“But where is that place--the bleeding-vein?”--inquired Finopléntoff,
with bashful curiosity.
Don’t you know? That spot on the fist close to the thumb, on which one
shakes snuff from the horn.--Just here, see! ’Tis the very best place
for blood-letting; therefore, judge for yourselves; from the arm it will
be venal blood, while from this spot it is sparkling. The doctors don’t
know that, and don’t understand it; how should they, the sluggards, the
dumb idiots? Blacksmiths chiefly make use of it. And what skilful
fellows they are! They’ll place their chisel on the spot, give it a
whack with their hammer--and the deed is done!... Well, sir, while I was
meditating in this wise, it had grown entirely dark out of doors, and it
was time to go to sleep. I lay down on my bed, and Tresór, of course,
was there also. But whether it was because of my fright or of the
stifling heat, or because the fleas or my thoughts were bothersome, at
any rate, I could not get to sleep. Such distress fell upon me as it is
impossible to describe; and I kept drinking water, and opening the
window, and thrumming the “Kamárynskaya”[46] on the guitar, with Italian
variations.... In vain! I felt impelled to leave the room,--and that’s
all there was to it. At last I made up my mind. I took a pillow, a
coverlet, and a sheet, and wended my way across the garden to the
hay-barn; well, and there I settled myself. And there things were
agreeable to me, gentlemen; the night was still, extremely still, only
now and then a breeze as soft as a woman’s hand would blow across my
cheek, and it was very cool; the hay was fragrant as tea, the katydids
were rasping in the apple-trees; then suddenly a quail would emit its
call--and you would feel that he was taking his ease, the scamp, sitting
in the dew with his mate.... And the sky was so magnificent; the stars
were twinkling, and sometimes a little cloud, as white as wadding, would
float past, and even it would hardly stir....
At this point in the narrative, Skvorévitch sneezed; Kinarévitch, who
never lagged behind his comrade in anything, sneezed also. Antón
Stepánitch cast a glance of approbation at both.
Well, sir--[went on Porfíry Kapítonitch],--so I lay there, and still I
could not get to sleep. A fit of meditation had seized upon me; and I
pondered chiefly over the great marvel, how that Prokhóritch had rightly
explained to me about the warning--and why such wonders should happen to
me in particular.... I was astonished, in fact, because I could not
understand it at all--while Tresórushko whimpered as she curled herself
up on the hay; her wounds were paining her. And I’ll tell you another
thing that kept me from sleeping--you will hardly believe it; the moon!
It stood right in front of me, so round and big and yellow and flat; and
it seemed to me as though it were staring at me--by Heaven it did; and
so arrogantly, importunately.... At last I stuck my tongue out at it, I
really did. Come, I thought, what art thou so curious about? I turned
away from it; but it crawled into my ear, it illuminated the back of my
head, and flooded me as though with rain; I opened my eyes, and what did
I see? It made every blade of grass, every wretched little blade in the
hay, the most insignificant spider’s web, stand out distinctly! “Well,
look, then!” said I. There was no help for it. I propped my head on my
hand and began to stare at it. But I could not keep it up; if you will
believe it, my eyes began to stick out like a hare’s and to open very
wide indeed, just as though they did not know what sleep was like. I
think I could have eaten up everything with those same eyes. The gate
of the hay-barn stood wide open; I could see for a distance of five
versts out on the plain; and distinctly, not in the usual way on a
moonlight night. So I gazed and gazed, and did not even wink.... And
suddenly it seemed to me as though something were waving about far, far
away ... exactly as though things were glimmering indistinctly before my
eyes. Some time elapsed; again a shadow leaped across my vision,--a
little nearer now; then again, still nearer. What is it? I thought. Can
it be a hare? No, I thought, it is larger than a hare, and its gait is
unlike that of a hare. I continued to look, and again the shadow showed
itself, and it was moving now across the pasture-land (and the
pasture-land was whitish from the moonlight) like a very large spot; it
was plain that it was some sort of a wild beast--a fox or a wolf. My
heart contracted within me ... but what was I afraid of, after all?
Aren’t there plenty of wild animals running about the fields by night?
But my curiosity was stronger than my fears; I rose up, opened my eyes
very wide, and suddenly turned cold all over. I fairly froze rigid on
the spot, as though I had been buried in ice up to my ears; and why? The
Lord only knows! And I saw the shadow growing bigger and bigger, which
meant that it was making straight for the hay-barn.... And then it
became apparent to me that it really was a large, big-headed wild
beast.... It dashed onward like a whirlwind, like a bullet.... Good
heavens! What was it? Suddenly it stopped short, as though it scented
something.... Why, it was the mad dog I had encountered that day! ’Twas
he, ’twas he! O Lord! And I could not stir a finger, I could not
shout.... It ran to the gate, glared about with its eyes, emitted a
howl, and dashed straight for me on the hay!
But out of the hay, like a lion, sprang my Tresór; and then the struggle
began. The two clinched jaw to jaw, and rolled over the ground in a
ball! What took place further I do not remember; all I do remember is
that I flew head over heels across them, just as I was, into the garden,
into the house, and into my own bedroom!... I almost dived under the
bed--there’s no use in concealing the fact. And what leaps, what bounds
I made in the garden! You would have taken me for the leading ballerina
who dances before the Emperor Napoleon on the day of his Angel--and even
she couldn’t have overtaken me. But when I had recovered myself a
little, I immediately routed out the entire household; I ordered them
all to arm themselves, and I myself took a sword and a revolver. (I must
confess that I had purchased that revolver after the Emancipation, in
case of need, you know--only I had hit upon such a beast of a pedlar
that out of three charges two inevitably missed fire.) Well, sir, I
took all this, and in this guise we sallied forth, in a regular horde,
with staves and lanterns, and directed our footsteps toward the
hay-barn. We reached it and called--nothing was to be heard; we entered
the barn at last.... and what did we see? My poor Tresórushko lay dead,
with her throat slit, and that accursed beast had vanished without
leaving a trace!
Then, gentlemen, I began to bleat like a calf, and I will say it without
shame; I fell down on the body of my twofold rescuer, so to speak, and
kissed her head for a long time. And there I remained in that attitude
until my old housekeeper, Praskóvya, brought me to my senses (she also
had run out at the uproar).
“Why do you grieve so over the dog, Porfíry Stepánitch?”--said she. “You
will surely catch cold, which God forbid!” (I was very lightly clad.)
“And if that dog lost her life in saving you, she ought to reckon it as
a great favour!”
Although I did not agree with Praskóvya, I went back to the house. And
the mad dog was shot on the following day by a soldier from the
garrison. And it must have been that that was the end appointed by Fate
to the dog, for the soldier fired a gun for the first time in his life,
although he had a medal for service in the year ’12. So that is the
supernatural occurrence which happened to me.
THE narrator ceased speaking and began to fill his pipe. But we all
exchanged glances of surprise.
“But perhaps you lead a very upright life,”--began Mr.
Finopléntoff,--“and so by way of reward....” But at that word he
faltered, for he saw that Porfíry Kapítonitch’s cheeks were beginning to
swell out and turn red, and his eyes too were beginning to pucker
up--evidently the man was on the point of breaking out....
“But admitting the possibility of the supernatural, the possibility of
its interference in everyday life, so to speak,”--began Antón
Stepánitch:--“then what rôle, after this, must sound sense play?”
None of us found any answer, and, as before, we remained perplexed.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The well-known poet Yákoff Petróvitch Polónsky is the authority for
this statement, in his “Recollections of Turgénieff,” printed in the
early numbers of the _Niva_ for 1884.--TRANSLATOR.
[2] The finest of the public parks in Moscow, situated near the famous
Sparrow Hills, is called “Neskútchny”--“Not Tiresome,” generally
rendered “Sans Souci.” It contains an imperial residence, the Alexander
Palace, used as an official summer home by the Governor-General of
Moscow.--TRANSLATOR.
[3] Princes, princesses, counts, and countesses have the title of
_Siyátelstvo_ (_siyám_--to shine, to be radiant); generally translated
“Illustrious Highness” or “Serenity.”--TRANSLATOR.
[4] The custom still prevails in Russia, to a great extent, for all
elderly women to wear caps. In the peasant class it is considered
as extremely indecorous to go “simple-haired,” as the expression
runs--TRANSLATOR.
[5] The famous gate from the “White town” into the “China town,”
in Moscow, where there is a renowned holy picture of the Iberian
Virgin, in a chapel. Evidently the lawyers’ quarter was in this
vicinity.--TRANSLATOR.
[6] In Púshkin’s poem, “The Gipsies.”--TRANSLATOR.
[7] The respectful “s,” which is an abbreviation of “sir” or
“madam.”--TRANSLATOR.
[8] A square in Moscow.--TRANSLATOR.
[9] A great plain situated on the outskirts of the town. So called
because (says tradition) it was here that annually were assembled
the young girls who were sent, in addition to the money tribute, to
the Khan, during the Tatár period, in the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries.--TRANSLATOR.
[10] Afanásy Afanásievitch Shénshin (1820-1892) always wrote under this
name.--TRANSLATOR.
[11] A verst is two thirds of a mile.--TRANSLATOR.
[12] The Name-day--that is, the day of the saint after whom a person
is named--is observed with feasting and congratulation, instead of the
birthday. For ceremonious calls, no matter at what hour of the day, a
man who has no official uniform must wear his evening suit, on penalty
of being considered ignorant or rude, or (in official circles) of being
refused admittance.--TRANSLATOR.
[13] A pun is intended: _isprávno_, regularly, in orderly manner;
_ispravnik_, the chief of police in a rural district.--TRANSLATOR.
[14] Male serfs. The women and children did not figure on the revision
lists.--TRANSLATOR.
[15] Of different grades (civil and military), for the children of the
nobility or gentry. They are not charities.--TRANSLATOR.
[16] In those days there was a great difference in the value of silver
and paper money--hence the kind is usually specified.--TRANSLATOR.
[17] Literally, “dear little mother.”--TRANSLATOR.
[18] A little Russian song.--TRANSLATOR.
[19] The popular nickname among Great Russians for the Little
Russians.--TRANSLATOR.
[20] Literally, “dear little father”: the genuinely Russian mode of
address to a man of any class, as _mátushka_ (“dear little mother”) is
for women of all classes.--TRANSLATOR.
[21] The poem, after describing the deadly qualities of the upas-tree,
narrates how a potentate sent one of his slaves to bring him flowers
from it. The slave, thoroughly aware of his danger, fulfilled his
sovereign’s behest, returned with branches of the tree, and dropped
dead.--TRANSLATOR.
[22] It should be Akím, popular for Iakínthos, Hyacinth.--TRANSLATOR.
[23] The unpoetical Russian name is “chicken-blindness”
(night-blindness).--TRANSLATOR.
[24] The eighth (out of fourteen) in Peter the Great’s Table of
Ranks.--TRANSLATOR.
[25] “S’,” a polite addition to sentences, equivalent to a contraction
of the words for “sir” or “madam.”--TRANSLATOR.
[26] The fourth from the top in the Table of Ranks.--TRANSLATOR.
[27] The figures in the mazurka are like those in the cotillon (which
is often danced the same evening), but the step is very animated and
original.--TRANSLATOR.
[28] He uses an impromptu Russification of a foreign word:
_intimidátziya_.--TRANSLATOR.
[29] A mixed drink.--TRANSLATOR.
[30] A large collection of shops, under one roof, extending from the
Névsky Prospékt to the Bolsháya Italyánskaya (“Great Italian Street”),
in St. Petersburg.--TRANSLATOR.
[31] The Russian shows that a woman is addressed.--TRANSLATOR.
[32] “Macbeth,” Act V, scene v.
[33] How can one fail to recall at this point the words of
Mephistopheles in “Faust”:
“Er (Gott) findet sich in einen ew’gen Glanze,
Uns hat er in die Finsterniss gebracht--
Und euch taugt einzig Tag und Nacht.”
[34] This is in English in the original.--TRANSLATOR.
[35] The fifth (from the top) of the fourteen grades in the Table of
Ranks, instituted by Peter the Great, which were to be won by service
to the State.--TRANSLATOR.
[36] Those who reject the official and necessary corrections made in
the Scriptures and Church service books in the reign of Peter the
Great’s father.--TRANSLATOR.
[37] The Old Ritualists oppose tea, coffee, and tobacco, chiefly, it
would seem, because they are “newfangled,” having come into use after
the schism. Later on they invented curious religious reasons for their
denunciation of these and other things.--TRANSLATOR.
[38] The holy picture (_ikóna_) of the Mother of Christ.--TRANSLATOR.
[39] The Old Ritualists’ most opprobrious epithet, designating a member
of the State Church, which accepted the emendations instituted by
Patriarch Níkon referred to in a previous note.--TRANSLATOR.
[40] One of the hotly disputed points of difference between the Old
Ritualists and the members of the State Church is in their manner of
crossing themselves. The latter use the forefinger, middle finger, and
thumb joined at the tips.--TRANSLATOR.
[41] In the government of Tula, central Russia.--TRANSLATOR.
[42] Formerly, houses were not numbered, and addresses ran: “In
the house of ***” (the proprietor, man or woman), often with many
complicated directions added to designate the special house.
These ancient addresses still remain, along with the numbers or
alone, especially on many of the houses in Moscow, and in country
towns.--TRANSLATOR.
[43] Old Ritualists will tolerate no others. Neither will they employ
the words “buy” or “sell” in connection with these ikónas; they say
“exchange.”--TRANSLATOR.
[44] The Senate in Russia is the Supreme Court of Appeals, and the
senators are appointed, not elected.--TRANSLATOR.
[45] A famous monastery on an island in the White Sea.--TRANSLATOR.
[46] A vivacious and favourite popular dance-tune. It is several
centuries old, and of interesting historical origin.--TRANSLATOR.
End of Project Gutenberg's First love and other stories, by Iván Turgénieff