Matveitch in his terrible jaws so that he could swallow his legs first;
then bringing up Ivan Matveitch, who kept trying to jump out and clutching
at the sides of the tank, sucked him down again as far as his waist. Then
bringing him up again, gulped him down, and so again and again. In this way
Ivan Matveitch was visibly disappearing before our eyes. At last, with a
final gulp, the crocodile swallowed my cultured friend entirely, this time
leaving no trace of him. From the outside of the crocodile we could see the
protuberances of Ivan Matveitch's figure as he passed down the inside of
the monster. I was on the point of screaming again when destiny played
another treacherous trick upon us. The crocodile made a tremendous effort,
probably oppressed by the magnitude of the object he had swallowed, once
more opened his terrible jaws, and with a final hiccup he suddenly let the
head of Ivan Matveitch pop out for a second, with an expression of despair
on his face. In that brief instant the spectacles dropped off his nose to
the bottom of the tank. It seemed as though that despairing countenance
had only popped out to cast one last look on the objects around it, to take
its last farewell of all earthly pleasures. But it had not time to carry
out its intention; the crocodile made another effort, gave a gulp and
instantly it vanished again--this time for ever. This appearance and
disappearance of a still living human head was so horrible, but at the
same--either from its rapidity and unexpectedness or from the dropping of
the spectacles--there was something so comic about it that I suddenly quite
unexpectedly exploded with laughter. But pulling myself together and
realising that to laugh at such a moment was not the thing for an old
family friend, I turned at once to Elena Ivanovna and said with a
sympathetic air:
"Now it's all over with our friend Ivan Matveitch!"
I cannot even attempt to describe how violent was the agitation of Elena
Ivanovna during the whole process. After the first scream she seemed rooted
to the spot, and stared at the catastrophe with apparent indifference,
though her eyes looked as though they were starting out of her head; then
she suddenly went off into a heart-rending wail, but I seized her hands. At
this instant the proprietor, too, who had at first been also petrified by
horror, suddenly clasped his hands and cried, gazing upwards:
"Oh my crocodile! _Oh mein allerliebster Karlchen! Mutter, Mutter,
Mutter!_"
A door at the rear of the room opened at this cry, and the _Mutter_, a
rosy-cheeked, elderly but dishevelled woman in a cap made her appearance,
and rushed with a shriek to her German.
A perfect Bedlam followed. Elena Ivanovna kept shrieking out the same
phrase, as though in a frenzy, "Flay him! flay him!" apparently entreating
them--probably in a moment of oblivion--to flay somebody for something. The
proprietor and _Mutter_ took no notice whatever of either of us; they were
both bellowing like calves over the crocodile.
"He did for himself! He will burst himself at once, for he did swallow a
_ganz_ official!" cried the proprietor.
"_Unser Karlchen, unser allerliebster Karlchen wird sterben_," howled his
wife.
"We are bereaved and without bread!" chimed in the proprietor.
"Flay him! flay him! flay him!" clamoured Elena Ivanovna, clutching at the
German's coat.
"He did tease the crocodile. For what did your man tease the crocodile?"
cried the German, pulling away from her. "You will if _Karlchen wird_
burst, therefore pay, _das war mein Sohn, das war mein einziger Sohn_."
I must own I was intensely indignant at the sight of such egoism in the
German and the cold-heartedness of his dishevelled _Mutter_; at the same
time Elena Ivanovna's reiterated shriek of "Flay him! flay him!" troubled
me even more and absorbed at last my whole attention, positively alarming
me. I may as well say straight off that I entirely misunderstood this
strange exclamation: it seemed to me that Elena Ivanovna had for the moment
taken leave of her senses, but nevertheless wishing to avenge the loss of
her beloved Ivan Matveitch, was demanding by way of compensation that the
crocodile should be severely thrashed, while she was meaning something
quite different. Looking round at the door, not without embarrassment, I
began to entreat Elena Ivanovna to calm herself, and above all not to use
the shocking word "flay." For such a reactionary desire here, in the midst
of the Arcade and of the most cultured society, not two paces from the hall
where at this very minute Mr. Lavrov was perhaps delivering a public
lecture, was not only impossible but unthinkable, and might at any moment
bring upon us the hisses of culture and the caricatures of Mr. Stepanov. To
my horror I was immediately proved to be correct in my alarmed suspicions:
the curtain that divided the crocodile room from the little entry where the
quarter-roubles were taken suddenly parted, and in the opening there
appeared a figure with moustaches and beard, carrying a cap, with the upper
part of its body bent a long way forward, though the feet were scrupulously
held beyond the threshold of the crocodile room in order to avoid the
necessity of paying the entrance money.
"Such a reactionary desire, madam," said the stranger, trying to avoid
falling over in our direction and to remain standing outside the room,
"does no credit to your development, and is conditioned by lack of
phosphorus in your brain. You will be promptly held up to shame in the
_Chronicle of Progress_ and in our satirical prints...."
But he could not complete his remarks; the proprietor coming to himself,
and seeing with horror that a man was talking in the crocodile room without
having paid entrance money, rushed furiously at the progressive stranger
and turned him out with a punch from each fist. For a moment both vanished
from our sight behind a curtain, and only then I grasped that the whole
uproar was about nothing. Elena Ivanovna turned out quite innocent; she
had, as I have mentioned already, no idea whatever of subjecting the
crocodile to a degrading corporal punishment, and had simply expressed the
desire that he should be opened and her husband released from his interior.
"What! You wish that my crocodile be perished!" the proprietor yelled,
running in again. "No! let your husband be perished first, before my
crocodile!... _Mein Vater_ showed crocodile, _mein Grossvater_ showed
crocodile, _mein Sohn_ will show crocodile, and I will show crocodile! All
will show crocodile! I am known to _ganz Europa_, and you are not known to
_ganz Europa_, and you must pay me a _strafe_!"
"_Ja, ja_," put in the vindictive German woman, "we shall not let you go.
_Strafe_, since Karlchen is burst!"
"And, indeed, it's useless to flay the creature," I added calmly, anxious
to get Elena Ivanovna away home as quickly as possible, "as our dear Ivan
Matveitch is by now probably soaring somewhere in the empyrean."
"My dear"--we suddenly heard, to our intense amazement, the voice of Ivan
Matveitch--"my dear, my advice is to apply direct to the superintendent's
office, as without the assistance of the police the German will never be
made to see reason."
These words, uttered with firmness and aplomb, and expressing an
exceptional presence of mind, for the first minute so astounded us that we
could not believe our ears. But, of course, we ran at once to the
crocodile's tank, and with equal reverence and incredulity listened to the
unhappy captive. His voice was muffled, thin and even squeaky, as though it
came from a considerable distance. It reminded one of a jocose person who,
covering his mouth with a pillow, shouts from an adjoining room, trying to
mimic the sound of two peasants calling to one another in a deserted plain
or across a wide ravine--a performance to which I once had the pleasure of
listening in a friend's house at Christmas.
"Ivan Matveitch, my dear, and so you are alive!" faltered Elena Ivanovna.
"Alive and well," answered Ivan Matveitch, "and, thanks to the Almighty,
swallowed without any damage whatever. I am only uneasy as to the view my
superiors may take of the incident; for after getting a permit to go abroad
I've got into a crocodile, which seems anything but clever."
"But, my dear, don't trouble your head about being clever; first of all we
must somehow excavate you from where you are," Elena Ivanovna interrupted.
"Excavate!" cried the proprietor. "I will not let my crocodile be
excavated. Now the _publicum_ will come many more, and I will _fünfzig_
kopecks ask and Karlchen will cease to burst."
"_Gott sei dank!_" put in his wife.
"They are right," Ivan Matveitch observed tranquilly; "the principles of
economics before everything."
"My dear! I will fly at once to the authorities and lodge a complaint, for
I feel that we cannot settle this mess by ourselves."
"I think so too," observed Ivan Matveitch; "but in our age of industrial
crisis it is not easy to rip open the belly of a crocodile without economic
compensation, and meanwhile the inevitable question presents itself: What
will the German take for his crocodile? And with it another: How will it be
paid? For, as you know, I have no means...."
"Perhaps out of your salary...." I observed timidly, but the proprietor
interrupted me at once.
"I will not the crocodile sell; I will for three thousand the crocodile
sell! I will for four thousand the crocodile sell! Now the _publicum_ will
come very many. I will for five thousand the crocodile sell!"
In fact he gave himself insufferable airs. Covetousness and a revolting
greed gleamed joyfully in his eyes.
"I am going!" I cried indignantly.
"And I! I too! I shall go to Andrey Osipitch himself. I will soften him
with my tears," whined Elena Ivanovna.
"Don't do that, my dear," Ivan Matveitch hastened to interpose. He had long
been jealous of Andrey Osipitch on his wife's account, and he knew she
would enjoy going to weep before a gentleman of refinement, for tears
suited her. "And I don't advise you to do so either, my friend," he added,
addressing me. "It's no good plunging headlong in that slap-dash way;
there's no knowing what it may lead to. You had much better go to-day to
Timofey Semyonitch, as though to pay an ordinary visit; he is an
old-fashioned and by no means brilliant man, but he is trustworthy, and
what matters most of all, he is straightforward. Give him my greetings and
describe the circumstances of the case. And since I owe him seven roubles
over our last game of cards, take the opportunity to pay him the money;
that will soften the stern old man. In any case his advice may serve as a
guide for us. And meanwhile take Elena Ivanovna home.... Calm yourself, my
dear," he continued, addressing her. "I am weary of these outcries and
feminine squabblings, and should like a nap. It's soft and warm in here,
though I have hardly had time to look round in this unexpected haven."
"Look round! Why, is it light in there?" cried Elena Ivanovna in a tone of
relief.
"I am surrounded by impenetrable night," answered the poor captive; "but I
can feel and, so to speak, have a look round with my hands.... Good-bye;
set your mind at rest and don't deny yourself recreation and diversion.
Till to-morrow! And you, Semyon Semyonitch, come to me in the evening, and
as you are absent-minded and may forget it, tie a knot in your
handkerchief."
I confess I was glad to get away, for I was overtired and somewhat bored.
Hastening to offer my arm to the disconsolate Elena Ivanovna, whose charms
were only enhanced by her agitation, I hurriedly led her out of the
crocodile room.
"The charge will be another quarter-rouble in the evening," the proprietor
called after us.
"Oh, dear, how greedy they are!" said Elena Ivanovna, looking at herself in
every mirror on the walls of the Arcade, and evidently aware that she was
looking prettier than usual.
"The principles of economics," I answered with some emotion, proud that
passers-by should see the lady on my arm.
"The principles of economics," she drawled in a touching little voice. "I
did not in the least understand what Ivan Matveitch said about those horrid
economics just now."
"I will explain to you," I answered, and began at once telling her of the
beneficial effects of the introduction of foreign capital into our country,
upon which I had read an article in the _Petersburg News_ and the _Voice_
that morning.
"How strange it is," she interrupted, after listening for some time. "But
do leave off, you horrid man. What nonsense you are talking.... Tell me, do
I look purple?"
"You look perfect, and not purple!" I observed, seizing the opportunity to
pay her a compliment.
"Naughty man!" she said complacently. "Poor Ivan Matveitch," she added a
minute later, putting her little head on one side coquettishly. "I am
really sorry for him. Oh, dear!" she cried suddenly, "how is he going to
have his dinner ... and ... and ... what will he do ... if he wants
anything?"
"An unforeseen question," I answered, perplexed in my turn. To tell the
truth, it had not entered my head, so much more practical are women than we
men in the solution of the problems of daily life!
"Poor dear! how could he have got into such a mess ... nothing to amuse
him, and in the dark.... How vexing it is that I have no photograph of
him.... And so now I am a sort of widow," she added, with a seductive
smile, evidently interested in her new position. "Hm!... I am sorry for
him, though."
It was, in short, the expression of the very natural and intelligible grief
of a young and interesting wife for the loss of her husband. I took her
home at last, soothed her, and after dining with her and drinking a cup of
aromatic coffee, set off at six o'clock to Timofey Semyonitch, calculating
that at that hour all married people of settled habits would be sitting or
lying down at home.
Having written this first chapter in a style appropriate to the incident
recorded, I intend to proceed in a language more natural though less
elevated, and I beg to forewarn the reader of the fact.
II
The venerable Timofey Semyonitch met me rather nervously, as though
somewhat embarrassed. He led me to his tiny study and shut the door
carefully, "that the children may not hinder us," he added with evident
uneasiness. There he made me sit down on a chair by the writing-table, sat
down himself in an easy chair, wrapped round him the skirts of his old
wadded dressing-gown, and assumed an official and even severe air, in
readiness for anything, though he was not my chief nor Ivan Matveitch's,
and had hitherto been reckoned as a colleague and even a friend.
"First of all," he said, "take note that I am not a person in authority,
but just such a subordinate official as you and Ivan Matveitch.... I have
nothing to do with it, and do not intend to mix myself up in the affair."
I was surprised to find that he apparently knew all about it already. In
spite of that I told him the whole story over in detail. I spoke with
positive excitement, for I was at that moment fulfilling the obligations of
a true friend. He listened without special surprise, but with evident signs
of suspicion.
"Only fancy," he said, "I always believed that this would be sure to happen
to him."
"Why, Timofey Semyonitch? It is a very unusual incident in itself...."
"I admit it. But Ivan Matveitch's whole career in the service was leading
up to this end. He was flighty--conceited indeed. It was always 'progress'
and ideas of all sorts, and this is what progress brings people to!"
"But this is a most unusual incident and cannot possibly serve as a general
rule for all progressives."
"Yes, indeed it can. You see, it's the effect of over-education, I assure
you. For over-education leads people to poke their noses into all sorts of
places, especially where they are not invited. Though perhaps you know
best," he added, as though offended. "I am an old man and not of much
education. I began as a soldier's son, and this year has been the jubilee
of my service."
"Oh, no, Timofey Semyonitch, not at all. On the contrary, Ivan Matveitch is
eager for your advice; he is eager for your guidance. He implores it, so to
say, with tears."
"So to say, with tears! Hm! Those are crocodile's tears and one cannot
quite believe in them. Tell me, what possessed him to want to go abroad?
And how could he afford to go? Why, he has no private means!"
"He had saved the money from his last bonus," I answered plaintively. "He
only wanted to go for three months--to Switzerland ... to the land of
William Tell."
"William Tell? Hm!"
"He wanted to meet the spring at Naples, to see the museums, the customs,
the animals...."
"Hm! The animals! I think it was simply from pride. What animals? Animals,
indeed! Haven't we animals enough? We have museums, menageries, camels.
There are bears quite close to Petersburg! And here he's got inside a
crocodile himself...."
"Oh, come, Timofey Semyonitch! The man is in trouble, the man appeals to
you as to a friend, as to an older relation, craves for advice--and you
reproach him. Have pity at least on the unfortunate Elena Ivanovna!"
"You are speaking of his wife? A charming little lady," said Timofey
Semyonitch, visibly softening and taking a pinch of snuff with relish.
"Particularly prepossessing. And so plump, and always putting her pretty
little head on one side.... Very agreeable. Andrey Osipitch was speaking of
her only the other day."
"Speaking of her?"
"Yes, and in very flattering terms. Such a bust, he said, such eyes, such
hair.... A sugar-plum, he said, not a lady--and then he laughed. He is
still a young man, of course." Timofey Semyonitch blew his nose with a loud
noise. "And yet, young though he is, what a career he is making for
himself."
"That's quite a different thing, Timofey Semyonitch."
"Of course, of course."
"Well, what do you say then, Timofey Semyonitch?"
"Why, what can I do?"
"Give advice, guidance, as a man of experience, a relative! What are we to
do? What steps are we to take? Go to the authorities and ..."
"To the authorities? Certainly not," Timofey Semyonitch replied hurriedly.
"If you ask my advice, you had better, above all, hush the matter up and
act, so to speak, as a private person. It is a suspicious incident, quite
unheard of. Unheard of, above all; there is no precedent for it, and it is
far from creditable.... And so discretion above all.... Let him lie there a
bit. We must wait and see...."
"But how can we wait and see, Timofey Semyonitch? What if he is stifled
there?"
"Why should he be? I think you told me that he made himself fairly
comfortable there?"
I told him the whole story over again. Timofey Semyonitch pondered.
"Hm!" he said, twisting his snuff-box in his hands. "To my mind it's really
a good thing he should lie there a bit, instead of going abroad. Let him
reflect at his leisure. Of course he mustn't be stifled, and so he must
take measures to preserve his health, avoiding a cough, for instance, and
so on.... And as for the German, it's my personal opinion he is within his
rights, and even more so than the other side, because it was the other
party who got into _his_ crocodile without asking permission, and not _he_
who got into Ivan Matveitch's crocodile without asking permission, though,
so far as I recollect, the latter has no crocodile. And a crocodile is
private property, and so it is impossible to slit him open without
compensation."
"For the saving of human life, Timofey Semyonitch."
"Oh, well, that's a matter for the police. You must go to them."
"But Ivan Matveitch may be needed in the department. He may be asked for."
"Ivan Matveitch needed? Ha-ha! Besides, he is on leave, so that we may
ignore him--let him inspect the countries of Europe! It will be a different
matter if he doesn't turn up when his leave is over. Then we shall ask for
him and make inquiries."
"Three months! Timofey Semyonitch, for pity's sake!"
"It's his own fault. Nobody thrust him there. At this rate we should have
to get a nurse to look after him at government expense, and that is not
allowed for in the regulations. But the chief point is that the crocodile
is private property, so that the principles of economics apply in this
question. And the principles of economics are paramount. Only the other
evening, at Luka Andreitch's, Ignaty Prokofyitch was saying so. Do you know
Ignaty Prokofyitch? A capitalist, in a big way of business, and he speaks
so fluently. 'We need industrial development,' he said; 'there is very
little development among us. We must create it. We must create capital, so
we must create a middle-class, the so-called bourgeoisie. And as we haven't
capital we must attract it from abroad. We must, in the first place, give
facilities to foreign companies to buy up lands in Russia as is done now
abroad. The communal holding of land is poison, is ruin.' And, you know, he
spoke with such heat; well, that's all right for him--a wealthy man, and
not in the service. 'With the communal system,' he said, 'there will be no
improvement in industrial development or agriculture. Foreign companies,'
he said, 'must as far as possible buy up the whole of our land in big lots,
and then split it up, split it up, split it up, in the smallest parts
possible'--and do you know he pronounced the words 'split it up' with such
determination--'and then sell it as private property. Or rather, not sell
it, but simply let it. When,' he said, 'all the land is in the hands of
foreign companies they can fix any rent they like. And so the peasant will
work three times as much for his daily bread and he can be turned out at
pleasure. So that he will feel it, will be submissive and industrious, and
will work three times as much for the same wages. But as it is, with the
commune, what does he care? He knows he won't die of hunger, so he is lazy
and drunken. And meanwhile money will be attracted into Russia, capital
will be created and the bourgeoisie will spring up. The English political
and literary paper, _The Times_, in an article the other day on our
finances stated that the reason our financial position was so
unsatisfactory was that we had no middle-class, no big fortunes, no
accommodating proletariat.' Ignaty Prokofyitch speaks well. He is an
orator. He wants to lay a report on the subject before the authorities, and
then to get it published in the _News_. That's something very different
from verses like Ivan Matveitch's...."
"But how about Ivan Matveitch?" I put in, after letting the old man babble
on.
Timofey Semyonitch was sometimes fond of talking and showing that he was
not behind the times, but knew all about things.
"How about Ivan Matveitch? Why, I am coming to that. Here we are, anxious
to bring foreign capital into the country--and only consider: as soon as
the capital of a foreigner, who has been attracted to Petersburg, has been
doubled through Ivan Matveitch, instead of protecting the foreign
capitalist, we are proposing to rip open the belly of his original
capital--the crocodile. Is it consistent? To my mind, Ivan Matveitch, as
the true son of his fatherland, ought to rejoice and to be proud that
through him the value of a foreign crocodile has been doubled and possibly
even trebled. That's just what is wanted to attract capital. If one man
succeeds, mind you, another will come with a crocodile, and a third will
bring two or three of them at once, and capital will grow up about
them--there you have a bourgeoisie. It must be encouraged."
"Upon my word, Timofey Semyonitch!" I cried, "you are demanding almost
supernatural self-sacrifice from poor Ivan Matveitch."
"I demand nothing, and I beg you, before everything--as I have said
already--to remember that I am not a person in authority and so cannot
demand anything of any one. I am speaking as a son of the fatherland, that
is, not as the _Son of the Fatherland_, but as a son of the fatherland.
Again, what possessed him to get into the crocodile? A respectable man, a
man of good grade in the service, lawfully married--and then to behave like
that! Is it consistent?"
"But it was an accident."
"Who knows? And where is the money to compensate the owner to come from?"
"Perhaps out of his salary, Timofey Semyonitch?"
"Would that be enough?"
"No, it wouldn't, Timofey Semyonitch," I answered sadly. "The proprietor
was at first alarmed that the crocodile would burst, but as soon as he was
sure that it was all right, he began to bluster and was delighted to think
that he could double the charge for entry."
"Treble and quadruple perhaps! The public will simply stampede the place
now, and crocodile owners are smart people. Besides, it's not Lent yet, and
people are keen on diversions, and so I say again, the great thing is that
Ivan Matveitch should preserve his incognito, don't let him be in a hurry.
Let everybody know, perhaps, that he is in the crocodile, but don't let
them be officially informed of it. Ivan Matveitch is in particularly
favourable circumstances for that, for he is reckoned to be abroad. It
will be said he is in the crocodile, and we will refuse to believe it. That
is how it can be managed. The great thing is that he should wait; and why
should he be in a hurry?"
"Well, but if ..."
"Don't worry, he has a good constitution...."
"Well, and afterwards, when he has waited?"
"Well, I won't conceal from you that the case is exceptional in the highest
degree. One doesn't know what to think of it, and the worst of it is there
is no precedent. If we had a precedent we might have something to go by.
But as it is, what is one to say? It will certainly take time to settle
it."
A happy thought flashed upon my mind.