Anton Chekhov: Plays, Short Stories, Diary & Letters (Collected Edition). Anton Chekhov
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did not speak.
“So she is dear to you… .”
“It’s your luck, it’s fate!” said the huntsman, stretching. “You must put up with it, poor thing. But goodbye, I’ve been chattering long enough…. I must be at Boltovo by the evening.”
Yegor rose, stretched himself, and slung his gun over his shoulder; Pelagea got up.
“And when are you coming to the village?” she asked softly.
“I have no reason to, I shall never come sober, and you have little to gain from me drunk; I am spiteful when I am drunk. Goodbye!”
“Goodbye, Yegor Vlassitch.”
Yegor put his cap on the back of his head and, clicking to his dog, went on his way. Pelagea stood still looking after him…. She saw his moving shoulder-blades, his jaunty cap, his lazy, careless step, and her eyes were full of sadness and tender affection…. Her gaze flitted over her husband’s tall, lean figure and caressed and fondled it…. He, as though he felt that gaze, stopped and looked round…. He did not speak, but from his face, from his shrugged shoulders, Pelagea could see that he wanted to say something to her. She went up to him timidly and looked at him with imploring eyes.
“Take it,” he said, turning round.
He gave her a crumpled rouble note and walked quickly away.
“Goodbye, Yegor Vlassitch,” she said, mechanically taking the rouble.
He walked by a long road, straight as a taut strap. She, pale and motionless as a statue, stood, her eyes seizing every step he took. But the red of his shirt melted into the dark colour of his trousers, his step could not be seen, and the dog could not be distinguished from the boots. Nothing could be seen but the cap, and… suddenly Yegor turned off sharply into the clearing and the cap vanished in the greenness.
“Goodbye, Yegor Vlassitch,” whispered Pelagea, and she stood on tiptoe to see the white cap once more.
A MALEFACTOR
Translation By Constance Garnett
AN exceedingly lean little peasant, in a striped hempen shirt and patched drawers, stands facing the investigating magistrate. His face overgrown with hair and pitted with smallpox, and his eyes scarcely visible under thick, overhanging eyebrows have an expression of sullen moroseness. On his head there is a perfect mop of tangled, unkempt hair, which gives him an even more spider-like air of moroseness. He is barefooted.
“Denis Grigoryev!” the magistrate begins. “Come nearer, and answer my questions. On the seventh of this July the railway watchman, Ivan Semyonovitch Akinfov, going along the line in the morning, found you at the hundred-and-forty-first mile engaged in unscrewing a nut by which the rails are made fast to the sleepers. Here it is, the nut!… With the aforesaid nut he detained you. Was that so?”
“Wha-at?”
“Was this all as Akinfov states?”
“To be sure, it was.”
“Very good; well, what were you unscrewing the nut for?”
“Wha-at?”
“Drop that ‘wha-at’ and answer the question; what were you unscrewing the nut for?”
“If I hadn’t wanted it I shouldn’t have unscrewed it,” croaks Denis, looking at the ceiling.
“What did you want that nut for?”
“The nut? We make weights out of those nuts for our lines.”
“Who is ‘we’?”
“We, people…. The Klimovo peasants, that is.”
“Listen, my man; don’t play the idiot to me, but speak sensibly. It’s no use telling lies here about weights!”
“I’ve never been a liar from a child, and now I’m telling lies …” mutters Denis, blinking. “But can you do without a weight, your honour? If you put live bait or maggots on a hook, would it go to the bottom without a weight?… I am telling lies,” grins Denis…. “What the devil is the use of the worm if it swims on the surface! The perch and the pike and the eelpout always go to the bottom, and a bait on the surface is only taken by a shillisper, not very often then, and there are no shillispers in our river…. That fish likes plenty of room.”
“Why are you telling me about shillispers?”
“Wha-at? Why, you asked me yourself! The gentry catch fish that way too in our parts. The silliest little boy would not try to catch a fish without a weight. Of course anyone who did not understand might go to fish without a weight. There is no rule for a fool.”
“So you say you unscrewed this nut to make a weight for your fishing line out of it?”
“What else for? It wasn’t to play knuckle-bones with!”
“But you might have taken lead, a bullet… a nail of some sort… .”
“You don’t pick up lead in the road, you have to buy it, and a nail’s no good. You can’t find anything better than a nut…. It’s heavy, and there’s a hole in it.”
“He keeps pretending to be a fool! as though he’d been born yesterday or dropped from heaven! Don’t you understand, you blockhead, what unscrewing these nuts leads to? If the watchman had not noticed it the train might have run off the rails, people would have been killed — you would have killed people.”
“God forbid, your honour! What should I kill them for? Are we heathens or wicked people? Thank God, good gentlemen, we have lived all our lives without ever dreaming of such a thing…. Save, and have mercy on us, Queen of Heaven!… What are you saying?”
“And what do you suppose railway accidents do come from? Unscrew two or three nuts and you have an accident.”
Denis grins, and screws up his eye at the magistrate incredulously.
“Why! how many years have we all in the village been unscrewing nuts, and the Lord has been merciful; and you talk of accidents, killing people. If I had carried away a rail or put a log across the line, say, then maybe it might have upset the train, but… pouf! a nut!”
“But you must understand that the nut holds the rail fast to the sleepers!”
“We understand that…. We don’t unscrew them all… we leave some…. We don’t do it thoughtlessly… we understand… .”
Denis yawns and makes the sign of the cross over his mouth.
“Last year the train went off the rails here,” says the magistrate. “Now I see why!”
“What do you say, your honour?”
“I am telling you that now I see why the train went off the rails last year…. I understand!”
“That’s what you are educated people for, to understand, you kind gentlemen. The Lord knows to whom to give understanding…. Here you have reasoned how and what, but the watchman, a peasant like ourselves, with no understanding at all, catches one by the collar and hauls one along…. You should reason first and then haul me off. It’s a saying that a peasant has a peasant’s wit…. Write down, too, your honour, that he hit me twice — in the jaw and in the chest.”
“When your hut was searched they found another nut…. At what spot did you unscrew that, and when?”