The Russian Masters: Works by Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev and More. Максим Горький
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to send for me, and I supposed that you perhaps called me on urgent business, and did not delay to come to you.
Countess: I beg you to take a seat and converse with us about a very important matter.
Wisely (sitting): What can I do?
Count: We have a son of ten years; we wish to give him a tutor. You are our marshal; be so kind, advise us.
Wisely: The matter is important, certainly, as it concerns the education and consequently the well-being of a young noble; but it is not such an affair that I need to have come to you.
Count: I feel that it was my duty to go to you myself, but my countess inconsiderately and without asking me sent for you; excuse the impatience of a countess.
Wisely: I am not at all offended; on the contrary, I am pleased that you would have come to me on this business. By my position I know all our nobles. Recently I made the acquaintance of a gentleman who not long ago bought a small village in our district — a Major Flatternot. If he were to consent to educate your son, would you be pleased?
Count (after a pause): Countess, speak!
Countess: A Russian tutor! I do not like that very much.
Count: Does he know French?
Wisely: Better than many of those Frenchmen whom you would be glad to receive in your house.
Count: What is his character?
Wisely: His name is Flatternot, and he is quite worthy of that name.
Countess (sotto voce): A rude fellow, I am sure.
Wisely: Is it really to be rude not to flatter?
Countess: Almost.
Wisely: Allow me to assure you that from the person I recommend as instructor for your son you will have neither rudeness nor flattery.
Count: We, on our side, will neglect nothing to show him our respect, and will always call him “Your Honour.”
Wisely: That is, you expect him every minute to call you “Your Highness.”
Countess: It seems to me that everyone should be given his proper title.
Wisely: But you consent to call him “Your Honour” for another reason.
Count: Which?
Wisely: So that all should know that your son’s tutor is a major.
Countess: And is that a great thing? My son is a count, and it seems to me that the major is not humbling himself to undertake his education.
Wisely: Mr. Flatternot certainly will not consider it a particular honour to be tutor to your son; and if he does consent to undertake this position, it will be certainty only in order to be useful to a brother nobleman.
Countess: I think, however, that rank is merit.
Wisely: The least of all human merits. To be born a count is not difficult, and one may by right of rank be called “Highness” without having high qualities, such as zealousness to be useful to one’s country. You, your highness! how have you served the country?
Count: I was a subaltern in the Guards, with a captain’s grade on retirement.
Wisely: Do not you yourself show the vanity of your rank as count? I wager that your son, if he is taught by Mr. Flatternot, will have quite another sort of ideas, and will be worthy of the honour which the path of nature opens to him.
Count: I was unlucky in my service. I could not reach major, and am now obliged to nag about the country.
Countess (sotto voce): This man is irritating me! If Mr. Flatternot reached major, I think he will teach my son to reach the same.
Wisely: Have no doubt of that; he will teach your son to receive promotion in the service of his country, and not by bowing in great gentlemen’s antechambers.
Countess: Maid! Call Count Basil here.
Maid: He is not pleased to come.
Count: Ask him from us. (Enter the young Count and nurses.)
Nurse: Come here, Count dear.
Second Nurse: Please come here, your highness!
Third Nurse: Your hand, please, your highness!
Young Count (running up to her and giving his hand): There, kiss it.
Countess: Count Basil, friend, embrace me.
Young Count (holding out his hand to her): There, mother. (Holding out his hand to Wisely.) There.
Wisely: I, friend, do not intend to kiss your paw; give it to the Count, your father.
Count: And I don’t want to.
Young Count: Why? You kissed it yesterday, father.
Count: Shame before a strange person.
Countess: Shame to love one’s son?
Wisely: Shame to spoil one’s son.
Countess: You see, sir, that we are educating our son as seems proper.
Wisely: I see only that you are driving everlastingly “Your Highness” into his head.
Countess: And it is proper to call him what he is.
Wisely: He is a child.
Countess: And of what line?
Wisely: A Weakhead.
Countess: I hope that he has much of his father’s blood in him.
Wisely: That is, the Weakheads’.
Countess: And of his mother’s? (The young Count turns away.)
Wisely: There, that is your line, the Whirligigs.
Countess: Count Basil is very lovable, is he not?
Wisely: I do not know if he is lovable, but I see that he is much loved by you.
Count: I am curious to be acquainted with Mr. Flatternot. When could that be?
Wisely: Now, if you wish.
Countess: You would much oblige us.
Wisely (going out): I will drive to him at once.
Count: I think the marshal will soon bring us Mr. Flatternot.
Countess: I can imagine no good from it, and, to be sure, I should be furious with regret to hand over Count Basil to the hands of a Russian lout, like Flatternot.
Count: It will be in our will to take Flatternot or reject him.
Countess: Count, friend, let us go to our apartments, that our expected guests should await us half an hour and see that they have come to your highness.
Count: For Heaven’s sake, don’t advise me that, if you do not wish to be a widow quickly.
Countess: But why?
Count: Mr. Flatternot, as I see it, is a man of merit, and certainly, being a major, does not wish to wait in a captain’s anteroom; he will get furious and cut me up.
Countess: He dares not do this before the marshal.
Count: Well, you see, madame, that to-day rank alone is not much respected, and people who value it highly are thought fools; and is Flatternot likely to contain himself for the marshal when Mr. Wisely said to me himself, “There’s no praying for fools?”
Countess: I cherish the hope that we shall get through without Flatternot. I received a letter to-day from Countess Folliest. She recommends me a French tutor, a Mr. Pelican, and we shall engage him.
Count: But first we’ll have a look at Flatternot.
Countess: