Poor Folk and Other Stories (37 page)

An argument had arisen among the guests. I suddenly saw my strange fellow leap up from his chair and start shouting as loud as he was able, demanding that he be given the sole and exclusive attention of those present.

‘Listen,' the host whispered to me. ‘He sometimes tells the most curious stories… Do you find him interesting?'

I nodded, and squeezed my way into the crowd. The spectacle of a rather well-dressed gentleman jumping up on a chair and shouting at the top of his voice had indeed aroused general attention. Many people who did not know the strange fellow exchanged looks of bewilderment, while others laughed like drains.

‘I know Fedosei Nikolaich! I know Fedosei Nikolaich better than anyone does!' the strange fellow cried from his elevation. ‘Let me tell you about him, gentlemen. I can tell you some good stories about Fedosei Nikolaich! There'sone I know that's an absolute wonder!…'

‘All right, Osip Mikhailich, tell us it, then.'

‘Yes, go on, tell us it!'

‘Listen, then…'

‘Listen, listen!'

‘I shall begin; but, gentlemen, this is a peculiar story…'

‘Excellent, excellent!'

‘It is a comical story.'

‘Wonderful, magnificent, marvellous! Get on with it!'

‘It's an episode from the private life of your most humble…'

‘Well, why did you have to go out of your way to tell us it was a comical story, then?'

‘And it's even somewhat tragic!'

‘Eh?'

‘In short, the story which you are now about to enjoy hearing me tell, gentlemen – the story in consequence of which I have landed in such
interesting
company…'

‘No puns!'

‘The story…'

‘Yes, the story – come on, get the preambles over with – a story that's worth the telling,' a fair-haired young man with a moustache said in a hoarse voice, lowering his hand into the pocket of his frock-coat and, as though by accident, producing his wallet instead of his handkerchief.

‘The story, my dear sirs, which prompts me to wonder what many of you would have done when it was all over, had you been in my shoes. And, finally, the story as a consequence of which I did not get married.'

‘Married?… A wife?… Polzunkov had plans to marry!'

‘I must say I'd like to see Madame Polzunkov!'

‘I'd be curious to learn the first name of the ci-devant Madame Polzunkov!' squeaked one young fellow, elbowing his way through to the speaker.

‘Well, gentlemen: chapter one. It happened just six years ago, in spring, on the thirty-first of March – take note of the date, gentlemen – on the eve of…'

‘The first of April!' cried a young fellow with curls.

‘You are remarkably perceptive, sir. It was evening. Dusk was thickening over the provincial market town of N., and the moon was about to come floating out… well, and everything else was just as it ought to be. So, my good sirs, when dusk had practically fallen I, too, floated out of my miserable lodgings on the quiet, having taken my leave of my reclusive grandmother, now deceased. You must forgive me, gentlemen, for using such a modish expression, which I last heard at Nikolai Nikolaich's. But my grandmother really was a
recluse
: she was blind, deaf, dumb and gaga – the lot!… I must confess I was in a bit of a state, for I was preparing myself for a great deed; my heart was beating like that of a kitten grabbed by the scruff of the neck in someone's bony hand.'

‘Er,
Monsieur
Polzunkov.'

‘What is it?'

‘Please tell the story more simply; don't try so hard!'

‘Very well, sir,' replied a slightly embarrassed Osip Mikhailich. ‘I entered the house of Fedosei Nikolaich (he owns it). Fedosei Nikolaich is, as you are aware, no mere fellow-employee, but a real head of department. I was announced and at once led into the study. I see it now: the room was quite dark, or almost quite, but there were no candles. As I looked, Fedosei Nikolaich walked in. There we were, he and I, in the darkness together…'

‘What took place between you?' an officer enquired.

‘What do you think?' said Polzunkov, instantly turning in the direction of the curly-headed youth, his face moving convulsively. ‘Well, gentlemen, at that point a strange thing happened. Or rather, it wasn't really strange, but just what's known as a common occurrence. Quite simply, I took a bundle of papers from my pocket, and so did he, only his were government ones…'

‘Banknotes?'

‘Yes, banknotes, and we made a swap.'

‘I dare say there was a whiff of bribery about it,' said a soberly dressed and close-cropped young gentleman.

‘Bribery!' said Polzunkov. ‘Oh, for heaven's sake:

There was general mirth.

‘But you must believe me, gentlemen, when I tell you that never have I been in the habit of taking bribes,' Polzunkov went on, surveying the entire company with mistrust. A burst of Homeric, unstoppable laughter swallowed his words.

‘It's really true, gentlemen…'

At this point, however, he stopped, and continued to survey everyone with a strange expression on his face. Perhaps – who knows – perhaps at that moment it had occurred to him that he was somewhat more honest than many in that whole honest company… Whatever the case, the serious expression on his face did not disappear until the universal merriment had completely run its course.

‘Well then,' Polzunkov began, when they had all fallen silent. ‘Although I have never accepted bribes, on this occasion I sinned: I put in my pocket a bribe… from a bribe-taker… That's to say, there were in my hands certain papers which, if I had decided to send them to certain persons, would have done Fedosei Nikolaich no good.'

‘You mean he bought them from you?'

‘That's correct.'

‘Did he give you a lot for them?'

‘He gave me as much as many a man would sell his conscience for in our time, the whole paraphernalia with all its brass knobs on, sir… as long as he got something for it. But I felt as though I had burnt my hand when I put the money in my pocket. I really don't know what comes over me at such times, gentlemen – but there I go, I'm more dead than alive, my lips move, my legs tremble; well, I was so ashamed I nearly turned into a jelly, I was ready to beg Fedosei Nikolaich's forgiveness…'

‘Well, and did he forgive you?'

‘Oh, I didn't actually beg him, sir… All I mean is that that was what I felt like at the time; that I have a passionate heart, in other words. I saw he was looking straight at me. “Have you no fear of God, Osip Mikhailich?” he said. Well, what was I to do? I just spread my hands in a proper sort of way, and put my head on one side. “Why do you think I have no fear of God, Fedosei Nikolaich?” I said. But I only said it because it sounded the proper thing to say… Actually, I was wishing the floor would open and swallow me up. “Having been a friend of my family for so long, having been, I should even say, like a son to me – and who knows what Heaven intended for us, Osip Mikhailich? – to suddenly go and write a report denouncing me to the authorities, and on such an occasion, too!… What am I to think of the human race after this, Osip Mikhailich?” Oh, he read me a proper sermon, gentlemen! “Yes,” he said, “just you tell me what I'm to think of the human race after this, Osip Mikhailich.” “What indeed?” I thought to myself! There was a clawing in my throat, and my wretched voice was trembling – well, I could feel my bad habit coming on, and so I grabbed my hat… “Where are you off to, Osip Mikhailich? Surely you can bear me no ill-will on the eve of such a day; in what way have I sinned against you?” “Fedosei Nikolaich,” I said, “Fedosei Nikolaich!” Yes, I melted, gentlemen, I melted like a wet sugar-stick. No wonder! The very envelope that contained the banknotes and that sat in my pocket seemed to be shouting “You ingrate, you brigand, you accursed thief!” It felt as heavy as though it weighed five poods… (Ah, if only it really had contained five poods!…) “I see,” said Fedosei Nikolaich, “I see that you have repented of your ways… You know, tomorrow is –” “The Feast of St Mary of Egypt,
^*
sir.” “Well, don't cry,” said Fedosei Nikolaich. “That's enough, now: you've sinned and repented! Come! Perhaps I shall succeed in returning you to the true path,” he said… “Perhaps my modest penates [I remember he used that very word, penates] will restore some warmth to your harden – I will not say hardened – your erring heart…” He took me by the arm, gentlemen, and led me to his household. A chill ran down my spine; I shivered! I thought of how my eyes would look when I introduced myself… But I should tell you, gentlemen, that at this point a… how shall I put it?… ticklish situation arose.'

‘Mrs Polzunkov?'

‘Marya Fedoseyevna, sir. Only she was not destined to be the “Mrs” you called her, she was not accorded that honour. That Fedosei Nikolaich was right, you see, when he said I had been almost like a son to him in his household. That was how it had been half a year previously, when a certain retired
junker
, Mikhailo Maksimych Dvigailov by name, was still alive. Subsequently he passed away by God s decree, but he had put all his arrangements for a will away in his bottom drawer; and it turned out that he couldn't be found in any sort of drawer at all afterwards…'

‘Ugh!'

‘Oh, it's all right, say no more, gentlemen, forgive me, it was a slip of the tongue – it was a bad pun, but that's not the half ofit – itwas a far worse kettle of fish when I was left, as it were, with nothing but a zero in view, because that retired
junker
, though he would not allow me into his house (he lived in a grand style, as he'd always known how to rake the lucre in), had also, perhaps not mistakenly, treated me like his own son.'

‘Aha!'

‘Yes, sir, that's how it was! Well, they began to make long noses at me in Fedosei Nikolaich's house. I observed and took note, I endured and stood firm, and then suddenly, to my misfortune (though perhaps it was to my good fortune!), a remount officer galloped into our wretched little town like a bolt from the blue. True, his business was a lively, airy, cavalry-style one–but he settled himself down as heavily at Fedosei Nikolaich's house as if he were a dug-in mortar! I came to the point by a devious, roundabout route, as it's my vile habit to do, saying, “Why are you insulting me, Fedosei Nikolaich? In a certain sense I'm your son… When are you going to start treating me like a father?” My dear sir, did he start to answer me back! Well, I mean, once he gets going he spouts an entire epic poem in twelve cantos, with rhyme, just listening to him is enough to make you lick your lips and spread out your hands with enjoyment, but there's not a copeck's worth of sense in it, or what sense there is there's no making out; you can't take in a word of it and you stand there like a fool while the cloud thickens up and he whirls around like a bit of quicksilver and escapes scot-free; yes, it's a talent, simply a talent, the kind of gift that frightens other people even though it has nothing to do with them. I went rushing about in all directions: I couldn't think what to do! I brought romances, confectionery, I thought up fancy phrases, I sighed and groaned, said that my heart was aching with
amour
, and then resorted to tears and secret explanations! Man's a foolish creature, after all! I mean, he hadn't gone to check with the parish clerk to see if I really was only thirty years old, had he?… so I tried a bit of cunning! But no, it didn't work, all I got was jeers and laughter all round – well, I was seized with anger, completely choked with it – I slipped away, resolved never to set foot inside his house again, thought and thought – and by jingo, I decided to report him to the authorities! Well, I admit it was a mean thing to do, to give away a friend, but I had a lot of evidence, wonderful evidence, capital stuff! I got fifteen hundred rubles in silver for it when I swapped it, together with my denunciatory report, for government banknotes.'

‘Aha, so that was the bribe!'

‘Yes, sir, that was the bribe, and it was a bribe-taker who paid me it! (And I mean to say, it wasn't a crime – far from it!) Well, now I shall begin the sequel to my tale: he had dragged me, if you will remember, into the tea-parlour, more dead than alive; they greeted me: they all seemed offended, that's to say, not so much offended
as… thoroughly vexed and irritated, to such a degree that they were simply… well, desperate, completely desperate, yet all the while their faces shone with a look of such irreproachable dignity, their eyes had such a sedate, sober expression, in which there was something fatherly, familial… the prodigal son had returned to them – that was what it all amounted to! They offered me a place at their tea table, but they might as well not have bothered: I felt as though I had a samovar boiling and bubbling inside me, while my feet were like ice – I felt small, I was terrified! He was only a court councillor (he's a collegiate assessor now), yet his wife, Marya Fom-inishna, began to address me by the familiar'thou' form right from the word go: “How thin you've grown, uncle,” she said. “Yes, I've been indisposed, Marya Fominishna,” I replied… My wretched little voice was trembling! And then, for no apparent reason atall – shemust have been waiting to get her own back, the venomous creature – she said: “Your conscience has evidently been troubling you, Osip Mikhailich, dear man! Our family hospitality has cried aloud in your face! I have shed tears of blood because of you!” I swear to you she actually had the nerve to use those very words! Oh, but that was nothing to her – she was a real battleaxe. She just sat there pouring tea. “If you were at the market, my dear, I bet you'd shout down all the peasant women there,” I thought. That's the sort of woman she was, our court councillor's wife! And then, to my misfortune, Marya Fedoseyevna, her daughter, came in with all her innocent ways, a little pale, her eyes reddened as though from tears – and like a fool I went to perdition, right there and then. It later transpired, however, that she had been shedding her tears over the remount officer: he had beetled off home, and had well and truly shown a clean pair of heels, because, you see (it's necessary to mention it now), it had come to the point when he had to part company, his time had run out; not that he'd had an officially appointed forage term, no, it was simply that… when the fond parents later discovered what had been going on and became acquainted with all the couple's cherished secrets, there wasn't much they could do about it – they hushed the disaster up: an addition to their family!… Well, it was no good, no sooner had I glanced at her, than I went to perdition, quite simply went to perdition; I took a sideways look at my hat, thought of snatching it up and beetling off at the double; it was not to be – they'd made off with my hat… I even thought of going without my hat – but they'd latched the door, and there ensued
friendly little bursts of laughter, winking and flirting; I grew flustered and talked some rot or other, held forth on the subject of
amour
, she, my little dove, sat down at the clavichord and, in offended tones, sang the song about the hussar who leaned on his sabre
^*
– that was the end of me!“Well,” said Fedosei Nikolaich, “it's all forgotten, come come… into my arms!” Instantly, without further ado, I pressed my face against his waistcoat, just as I was. “My benefactor, you are like a father to me,” I said. And what burning tears I shed! Lord God, what a hubbub there arose then! He wept, his good woman wept, Mashenka wept… There was a little blonde girl there, and she wept, too… Not only that – the little infants came crawling out from every corner (the Lord had blessed his house!), and they bawled, too… there were that many tears, all this joy and tender emotion was because they had got their prodigal son back, it was as if a soldier were returning to his motherland! At that point refreshments were served, and a game of forfeits began: “Oh, it hurts!” “What does?” “My heart.” For whom? She blushed, the little dove! The old man and I had some punch… Well, they completely wore me out with all their treats and enjoyments… I went home to grandmother. My head was in a spin; all the way there I kept laughing to myself, and when I got there I spent two good hours pacing up and down the little room. I woke the old woman up and told her all about my good fortune. “And did he give you any money, the brigand?” “Yes, he did, grandmother, he did, he did, my dear relative – fortune has smiled on us and showered us with plenty!” “Well, all you need to do now is marry her, then; go on, while you're at it, marry her,” the old woman said to me. “At last my prayers have been answered.” I woke up Sofron. “Sofron,” I said, “take my boots off for me.” Sofron pulled my boots off. “Well, Sofrosha! Now congratulate me, embrace me! I'm getting married, old chap, it's as simple as that, I'm getting married! You can drink yourself senseless tomorrow, you can blow your head off, I tell you: your master's getting married!” Oh, it was laughter and games all round!… I was almost on the point of falling asleep when something made me get up again. I sat and thought; suddenly a realization flashed through my head: tomorrow was the first of April, a day for fun and skylarking, so how about it? And I conceived a plan! Why, sirs, I got up from my bed, lit a candle, sat down at the writing desk attired just as I was, in other words I let myself go completely, and got carried away – you know what it's like, gentlemen, when a man gets carried away! My dear fellows, I waded into the mire until it covered my head! That's to say, it goes something like this: they take something away from you, and you give them something else, as well: it's as if you were to say: “Here you are, take that, too!” They smite you on the right cheek, and you turn the other to them for good measure. Then they begin to entice you like a dog with a doughnut, and you paw them with your stupid paws and slobber over them with all your heart and soul! I mean, I'm doing it now, gentlemen! You're laughing and whispering to one another, do you think I don't see? Later on, when I've told you all my cherished secrets, you'll begin to hold me up to ridicule, you'll tell me to clear off, yet I'll go on talking and talking and talking! Well, who was it asked me to talk? The very same people who'll tell me to clear off! The very same people who are leaning over my shoulder, whispering, “Go on, talk, talk, tell us all about it!” And so I talk, I tell you all about it, I worm myself into your confidence as though you were all my own dear brothers, my bosom friends… A-ach!…'

The roar of laughter which had gradually begun to build up on all sides ended by completely drowning the voice of the narrator, who had worked himself up into a state of genuine ecstasy; he stopped talking, let his eyes pass over the company for a few moments, and then suddenly, as though he had been carried away by some whirlwind, waved a hand in the air and burst out laughing as though he really found his situation a comical one, and once again launched into his narrative: