Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) (366 page)

“Well, I had the carriage brought round, put my Trésor in and drove home. When I got home I looked him over and washed his wounds, and thought I would take him next day as soon as it was light to the wise man in the Yefremovsky district. And this wise man was an old peasant, a wonderful man: he would whisper over some water -
 
- and some people made out that he dropped some snake spittle into it -
 
- would give it as a draught, and the trouble would be gone completely. I thought, by the way, I would be bled myself at Yefremovo: it’s a good thing as a precaution against fright, only not from the arm, of course, but from the falcon.”

“What place is that, the falcon?” Mr. Finoplentov asked with demure curiosity.

“Why, don’t you know? It is here on the fist near the thumb, the spot on which one shakes the snuff from one’s horn, just here. It’s the best place for letting blood. For only consider, the blood from the arm comes from the vein, but here it is of no consequence. The doctors don’t know that and don’t understand it, how should they, the idle drones, the wretched Germans? It’s the blacksmiths who go in for it. And aren’t they skilful! They get a chisel, give it a tap with a hammer and it’s done! ... Well, while I was thinking it over, it got quite dark, it was time for bed. I went to bed and Trésor, of course, was close by me. But whether it was from the fight, from the stuffiness, from the fleas or from my thoughts, I could not get to sleep, do what I would! I can’t describe the depression that came over me; I sipped water, opened the window and played the ‘Kamarinsky’ with Italian variations on the guitar.... No good! I felt I must get out of the room -
 
- and that was all about it! I made up my mind at last: I took my pillow, my quilt and my sheet and made my way across the garden to the hayloft; and settled myself there. And how pleasant I felt in there, gentlemen: it was a still, still night, only from time to time a breath of air like a woman’s hand caressed one’s cheek; it was so fresh; the hay smelt as sweet as tea; among the apple trees’ the grasshoppers were chirping; then all at once came the cry of the quail -
 
- and one felt that he, too, the rogue, was happy, sitting in the dew with his little lady.... And the sky was magnificent.... The stars were glowing, or a cloud would float by, white as cotton wool, scarcely moving....”

At this point in the story Skvorevitch sneezed; Kinarevitch sneezed, too -
 
- he never failed in anything to follow his colleague’s example. Anton Stepanitch looked approvingly at both of them.

“Well,” Porfiry Kapitonitch went on, “well, so I lay there and again could not go to sleep. I fell to musing, and what I thought of most was the strangeness of it all: how correctly Prohoritch had explained it as a warning and I wondered why it was to me such marvels had happened.... I marvelled -
 
- particularly because I could make nothing of it -
 
- and Trésor kept whining, as he twisted round in the hay; his wounds hurt him. And I will tell you what else prevented me from sleeping -
 
- you won’t believe it -
 
- the moon. It was just facing me, so big and round and yellow and flat, and it seemed to me that it was staring at me, it really did. And so insolently, so persistently.... I put out my tongue at it at last, I really did. What are you so inquisitive about? I thought. I turned away from it and it seemed to be creeping into my ear and shining on the back of my head, so that I felt caught in it as in rain; I opened my eyes and every blade of grass, every paltry being in the hay, the most flimsy spider’s web -
 
- all were standing out as though they were chiselled! As though asking to be looked at! There was no help for it: I leaned my head on my hand and began gazing. And I couldn’t help it: would you believe it: my eyes bulged out like a hare’s; they opened so wide -
 
- as though they did not know what sleep was! It seemed as though I would devour it all with my eyes. The doors of the barn were wide open; I could see for four miles into the open country, distinctly and yet not, as it always is on a moonlight night. I gazed and gazed without blinking.... And all at once it seemed as though something were moving, far, far away ... like a faint glimmer in the distance. A little time passed: again the shadow stirred -
 
- now a little nearer; then again nearer still. ‘What can it be?’ I wondered, ‘a hare, no,’ I thought, ‘it is bigger than a hare and its action is not the same.’ I looked, and again the shadow came in sight, and was moving across the grazing meadow (the meadow looked whitish in the moonlight) like a big blur; it was clear that it was a wild animal, a fox or a wolf. My heart seemed to stand still ... though one might wonder why I was frightened. All sorts of wild creatures run about the fields at night. But curiosity was even stronger than fear. I sat up, I opened my eyes wide and I turned cold all over. I felt frozen, as though I had been thrust into the ice, up to my ears, and why? The Lord only knows! And I saw the shadow growing and growing, so it was running straight towards the barn. And I began to realise that it certainly was a wild beast, big, with a huge head.... He flew like a whirlwind, like a bullet.... Holy saints! what was it? He stopped all at once, as though he scented something.... Why it was ... the same mad dog! It was ... it was! Heavens! And I could not stir, I could not cry out.... It darted to the doors, with glittering eyes, howled and dashed through the hay straight at me!

“Out of the hay like a lion leapt my Trésor, here he was. They hung on to each other’s jaws and rolled on the ground. What happened then I don’t remember; all I remember is that I flew headlong between them into the garden, and home and into my bedroom and almost crept under the bed -
 
- why not make a clean breast of it? And what leaps, what bounds I took in the garden! The
prémiere danseuse
dancing before the Emperor Napoleon on his nameday couldn’t have kept pace with me. However, when I had recovered myself a little, I roused the whole household; I ordered them all to arm themselves, I myself took a sword and a revolver (I bought that revolver, I must own, soon after the emancipation, you know, in case anything should happen, but it turned out the man who sold it was such a rogue -
 
- it would be sure to miss fire twice out of every three shots). Well, I took all this and so we went, a regular horde of us with stakes and lanterns, to the barn. We approached and called -
 
- there was not a sound; at last we went into the barn.... And what did we see? My poor Trésor lay dead with his throat torn open, and of the other, the damned brute, not a trace to be seen!

“And then, gentlemen, I howled like a calf and I am not ashamed to say so; I stooped down to the friend who had saved my life twice over and kissed his head, again and again. And I stayed in that position until my old housekeeper, Praskovya (she, too, had run in at the uproar), brought me to my senses. ‘How can you, Porfiry Kapitonitch,’ she said, ‘distress yourself so about a dog? And you will catch cold, too, God forbid.’ (I was very lightly clad.) ‘And if this dog has lost his life in saving you, it may be taken as a great blessing vouchsafed him!’

“Though I did not agree with Praskovya, I went home. And next day a soldier of the garrison shot the mad dog. And it must have been its destined end: it was the first time in his life that the soldier had fired a gun, though he had a medal for service in 1812. So this was the supernatural incident that happened to me.”

The speaker ceased and began filling his pipe. We all looked at each other in amazement.

“Well, perhaps, you have led a very virtuous life,” Mr. Finoplentov began, “so in recompense...”

But he broke off at that word, for he saw Porfiry Kapitonitch’s cheeks grow round and flushed while his eyes screwed up -
 
- he was on the point of breaking into a guffaw.

“But if one admits the possibility of the supernatural, the possibility of its participation in everyday life, so to say,” Anton Stepanitch began again, “then allow me to ask, what becomes of common sense?”

None of us found anything to say in reply and we remained in perplexity as before.

1866.

AN OLD MAN’S STORY

I

I will tell you my adventures with a watch. It is a curious story.

It happened at the very beginning of this century, in 1801. I had just reached my sixteenth year. I was living at Ryazan in a little wooden house not far from the bank of the river Oka with my father, my aunt and my cousin; my mother I do not remember; she died three years after her marriage; my father had no other children. His name was Porfiry Petrovitch. He was a quiet man, sickly and unattractive in appearance; he was employed in some sort of legal and -
 
- other -
 
- business. In old days such were called attorneys, sharpers, nettle - seeds; he called himself a lawyer. Our domestic life was presided over by his sister, my aunt, an old maiden lady of fifty; my father, too, had passed his fourth decade. My aunt was very pious, or, to speak bluntly, she was a canting hypocrite and a chattering magpie, who poked her nose into everything; and, indeed, she had not a kind heart like my father. We were not badly off, but had nothing to spare. My father had a brother called Yegor; but he had been sent to Siberia in the year 1797 for some “seditious acts and Jacobin tendencies” (those were the words of the accusation).

Yegor’s son David, my cousin, was left on my father’s hands and lived with us. He was only one year older than I; but I respected him and obeyed him as though he were quite grown up. He was a sensible fellow with character; in appearance, thick - set and broad - shouldered with a square face covered with freckles, with red hair, small grey eyes, thick lips, a short nose, and short fingers -
 
- a sturdy lad, in fact -
 
- and strong for his age! My aunt could not endure him; my father was positively afraid of him ... or perhaps he felt himself to blame towards him. There was a rumour that, if my father had not given his brother away, David’s father would not have been sent to Siberia. We were both at the high school and in the same class and both fairly high up in it; I was, indeed, a little better at my lessons than David. I had a good memory but boys -
 
- as we all know! -
 
- do not think much of such superiority, and David remained my leader.

II

My name -
 
- you know -
 
- is Alexey. I was born on the seventh of March and my name - day is the seventeenth. In accordance with the old - fashioned custom, I was given the name of the saint whose festival fell on the tenth day after my birth. My godfather was a certain Anastasy Anastasyevitch Putchkov, or more exactly Nastasey Nastasyeitch, for that was what everyone called him. He was a terribly shifty, pettifogging knave and bribe - taker -
 
- a thoroughly bad man; he had been turned out of the provincial treasury and had had to stand his trial on more than one occasion; he was often of use to my father.... They used to “do business” together. In appearance he was a round, podgy figure; and his face was like a fox’s with a nose like an owl’s. His eyes were brown, bright, also like a fox’s, and he was always moving them, those eyes, to right and to left, and he twitched his nose, too, as though he were sniffing the air. He wore shoes without heels, and wore powder every day, which was looked upon as very exceptional in the provinces. He used to declare that he could not go without powder as he had to associate with generals and their ladies. Well, my name - day had come. Nastasey Nastasyeitch came to the house and said:

“I have never made you a present up to now, godson, but to make up for that, look what a fine thing I have brought you to - day.”

And he took out of his pocket a silver watch, a regular turnip, with a rose tree engraved on the face and a brass chain. I was overwhelmed with delight, while my aunt, Pelageya Petrovna, shouted at the top of her voice:

“Kiss his hand, kiss his hand, dirty brat!”

I proceeded to kiss my godfather’s hand, while my aunt went piping on:

“Oh, Nastasey Nastasyeitch! Why do you spoil him like this? How can he take care of a watch? He will be sure to drop it, break it, or spoil it.”

My father walked in, looked at the watch, thanked Nastasey Nastasyeitch -
 
- somewhat carelessly, and invited him to his study. And I heard my father say, as though to himself:

“If you think to get off
with that
, my man....” But I could not stay still. I put on the watch and rushed headlong to show my present to David.

III

David took the watch, opened it and examined it attentively. He had great mechanical ability; he liked having to do with iron, copper, and metals of all sorts; he had provided himself with various instruments, and it was nothing for him to mend or even to make a screw, a key or anything of that kind.

David turned the watch about in his hands and muttering through his teeth (he was not talkative as a rule):

“Oh ... poor ...” added, “where did you get it?”

I told him that my godfather had given it me.

David turned his little grey eyes upon me:

“Nastasey?”

“Yes, Nastasey Nastasyeitch.”

David laid the watch on the table and walked away without a word.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“Well, it isn’t that.... But if I were you, I would not take any sort of present from Nastasey.”

“Why?”

“Because he is a contemptible person; and you ought not to be under an obligation to a contemptible person. And to say thank you to him, too. I suppose you kissed his hand?”

“Yes, Aunt made me.”

David grinned -
 
- a peculiar grin -
 
- to himself. That was his way. He never laughed aloud; he considered laughter a sign of feebleness.

David’s words, his silent grin, wounded me deeply. “So he inwardly despises me,” I thought. “So I, too, am contemptible in his eyes. He would never have stooped to this himself! He would not have accepted presents from Nastasey. But what am I to do now?”

Give back the watch? Impossible!

I did try to talk to David, to ask his advice. He told me that he never gave advice to anyone and that I had better do as I thought best. As I thought best!! I remember I did not sleep all night afterwards: I was in agonies of indecision. I was sorry to lose the watch -
 
- I had laid it on the little table beside my bed; its ticking was so pleasant and amusing ... but to feel that David despised me (yes, it was useless to deceive myself, he did despise me) ... that seemed to me unbearable. Towards morning a determination had taken shape in me ... I wept, it is true -
 
- but I fell asleep upon it, and as soon as I woke up, I dressed in haste and ran out into the street. I had made up my mind to give my watch to the first poor person I met.

IV

I had not run far from home when I hit upon what I was looking for. I came across a barelegged boy of ten, a ragged urchin, who was often hanging about near our house. I dashed up to him at once and, without giving him or myself time to recover, offered him my watch.

The boy stared at me round - eyed, put one hand before his mouth, as though he were afraid of being scalded -
 
- and held out the other.

“Take it, take it,” I muttered, “it’s mine, I give it you, you can sell it, and buy yourself ... something you want.... Good - bye.”

I thrust the watch into his hand -
 
- and went home at a gallop. Stopping for a moment at the door of our common bedroom to recover my breath, I went up to David who had just finished dressing and was combing his hair.

“Do you know what, David?” I said in as unconcerned a tone as I could, “I have given away Nastasey’s watch.”

David looked at me and passed the brush over his temples.

“Yes,” I added in the same businesslike voice, “I have given it away. There is a very poor boy, a beggar, you know, so I have given it to him.”

David put down the brush on the washing - stand.

“He can buy something useful,” I went on, “with the money he can get for it. Anyway, he will get something for it.”

I paused.

“Well,” David said at last, “that’s a good thing,” and he went off to the schoolroom. I followed him.

“And if they ask you what you have done with it?” he said, turning to me.

“I shall tell them I’ve lost it,” I answered carelessly.

No more was said about the watch between us that day; but I had the feeling that David not only approved of what I had done but ... was to some extent surprised by it. He really was!

V

Two days more passed. It happened that no one in the house thought of the watch. My father was taken up with a very serious unpleasantness with one of his clients; he had no attention to spare for me or my watch. I, on the other hand, thought of it without ceasing! Even the approval ... the presumed approval of David did not quite comfort me. He did not show it in any special way: the only thing he said, and that casually, was that he hadn’t expected such recklessness of me. Certainly I was a loser by my sacrifice: it was not counter - balanced by the gratification afforded me by my vanity.

And what is more, as ill - luck would have it, another schoolfellow of ours, the son of the town doctor, must needs turn up and begin boasting of a new watch, a present from his grandmother, and not even a silver, but a pinch - back one....

I could not bear it, at last, and, without a word to anyone, slipped out of the house and proceeded to hunt for the beggar boy to whom I had given my watch.

I soon found him; he was playing knucklebones in the churchyard with some other boys.

I called him aside -
 
- and, breathless and stammering, told him that my family were angry with me for having given away the watch -
 
- and that if he would consent to give it back to me I would gladly pay him for it.... To be ready for any emergency, I had brought with me an old - fashioned rouble of the reign of Elizabeth, which represented the whole of my fortune.

“But I haven’t got it, your watch,” answered the boy in an angry and tearful voice; “my father saw it and took it away from me; and he was for thrashing me, too. ‘You must have stolen it from somewhere,’ he said. ‘What fool is going to make you a present of a watch?’“

“And who is your father?”

“My father? Trofimitch.”

“But what is he? What’s his trade?”

“He is an old soldier, a sergeant. And he has no trade at all. He mends old shoes, he re - soles them. That’s all his trade. That’s what he lives by.”

“Where do you live? Take me to him.”