Peredonov and Ershova went out into the open. He growled:
"Come this way."
She shouted with all her might, though gaily. They were apparently
getting ready to dance. Prepolovenskaya and Varvara passed through the
kitchen into another room, where they sat down at the window to see
what would happen.
Peredonov and Ershova embraced each other, and began to dance around
the pear tree. Peredonov's face remained dull as before and did not
express anything. Mechanically, as upon an automaton, his golden-rimmed
spectacles sprang up and down his nose, and his hair flopped up and
down on his head. Ershova screamed, shouted, waved her arms, and at
times reeled.
She shouted to Varvara, whom she espied at the window:
"Hey you, don't be such a lady, come out and dance. Are you disgusted
with our company?"
Varvara turned away.
"The deuce take you! I'm dead tired," shouted Ershova, and fell back on
the grass, drawing down Peredonov with her.
They sat a while in each other's embrace, then got up and once more
began to dance. This they repeated several times: now they danced, now
they rested under the pear tree, upon the bench, or simply on the grass.
Volodin enjoyed himself thoroughly, as he watched the dancers from the
window. He roared with laughter, made extraordinarily funny faces, and
bent his body in two. He shouted:
"They're cracked! How funny!"
"Accursed carrion!" said Varvara angrily.
"Yes, carrion," agreed Volodin with a grin. "Just wait, my dear
landlady, I'll show you something! Let's go and make a mess in the
parlour too. She won't come back again to-day anyhow, she'll tire
herself out and go home to sleep."
He burst into his bleating laughter and jumped about like a great ram.
Prepolovenskaya encouraged him:
"Yes, go ahead, Pavel Vassilyevitch, and make a mess. We don't care
a rap for her! If she does come back we can tell her that she did it
herself when she was drunk."
Volodin, skipping and laughing, ran into the parlour and began to smear
and rub his boots on the wall-paper.
"Varvara Dmitrievna, get me a piece of rope!" he shouted.
Varvara, waddling like a duck, passed through the parlour into the
bedroom and brought back with her a piece of frayed, knotted rope.
Volodin made a noose, then stood up on a chair in the middle of the
room and hung the noose on the lamp-bracket.
"That's for the landlady," he explained. "So that when you leave she'll
have somewhere to hang herself in her rage!"
Both women squealed with laughter.
"Now get me a bit of paper and a pencil," shouted Volodin.
Varvara searched in the bedroom and discovered a pencil and a piece of
paper.
Volodin wrote on it: "For the landlady," and pinned the paper on the
noose. He made ridiculous grimaces all the time he was doing this. Then
he began to jump furiously up and down along the walls, kicking them
every now and again with his boots, shaking with laughter at the same
time. His squeals and bleating laughter filled the whole house. The
white cat, putting back its ears in terror, peered out of the bedroom
and seemed undecided where to run.
Peredonov at last managed to disengage himself from Ershova and
returned to the house. Ershova really did get tired and went home to
bed. Volodin met Peredonov with uproarious laughter:
"We've made a mess of the parlour too! Hurrah!"
"Hurrah!" shouted Peredonov, bursting into a loud, abrupt laugh.
The women also cried "Hurrah," and a general gaiety set in. Peredonov
cried:
"Pavloushka! let's dance."
"Yes, let's, Ardalyosha!" replied Volodin, with a stupid grin.
They danced under the noose and kicked up their legs awkwardly. The
floor trembled under Peredonov's heavy feet.
"Ardalyon Borisitch's got a dancing fit," said Prepolovenskaya with a
smile.
"That's nothing new, he has his little whims," grumbled Varvara,
looking admiringly at Peredonov nevertheless.
She sincerely thought that he was handsome and clever. His most
stupid actions seemed to her perfectly fitting. To her he was neither
ridiculous nor repulsive.
"Let's sing a funeral mass over the landlady," shouted Volodin. "Fetch
a pillow here."
"What will they think of next?" said Varvara laughingly.
She threw out from the bedroom a pillow in a dirty calico slip. They
put the pillow on the floor to represent the landlady and began to
chant over it with wild discordant voices. Then they called in Natalya,
and made her turn the ariston[1]; all four of them began to dance a
quadrille with strange antics, kicking up their legs.
After the dance Peredonov felt generous. A dim, morose sort of
animation lit up his plump face; he was inspired by a sudden, almost
automatic decision, a consequence, perhaps, of his sudden muscular
action. He pulled out his wallet, counted several notes, and with a
proud self-laudatory expression, threw them towards Varvara.
"Here you are, Varvara!" he exclaimed. "Get yourself a wedding dress!"
The notes fluttered across the floor. Varvara eagerly picked them
up; she was not in the least offended at the way the gift was made.
Prepolovenskaya thought: "Well, we shall see who's going to have him."
And she smiled maliciously. Volodin, of course, did not think of
helping Varvara to pick up the money.
Soon Prepolovenskaya left. In the passage she met another visitor,
Grushina.
Marya Ossipovna Grushina was a young widow, with a prematurely faded
appearance. She was thin--her dry skin was covered with small wrinkles
which looked filled with dust. Her face was not unpleasant, but her
teeth were black and unbrushed. She had long hands, long grasping
fingers and dirty finger-nails. At the first glance she not only looked
dirty but gave the impression that she and her clothes had been beaten
together. It really looked as if a column of dust would rise up into
the sky if she were struck several times with a carpet beater. Her
clothes hung upon her in crumpled folds; she might have been just
released from a tightly-bound bundle. Grushina lived on a pension, on
petty commissions, and by lending money on mortgages. Her conversation
was mostly on immodest lines, and she attached herself to men in the
hope of getting a second husband. One of her rooms was always let to
some one among the bachelor officials.
Varvara was pleased to see Grushina. She had something to tell her.
They began to talk immediately about the servant-maid in whispers. The
inquisitive Volodin edged closer to them and listened. Peredonov sat
morosely by himself in front of the table crumpling the corner of the
tablecloth in his fingers.
Varvara was complaining to Grushina about Natalya. Grushina suggested
a new servant, Klavdia, and praised her. They decided to go after her
at once, to Samorodina where she was living in the house of an excise
officer, who had just been transferred to another town. Varvara paused
when she heard the maid's name; and asked in a doubtful voice:
"Klavdia? What on earth shall I call her,--Klashka?"
"Why don't you call her Klavdiushka?" suggested Grushina. This pleased
Varvara.
"Klavdiushka, diushka!" she said with a crackling laugh. It should be
observed that in our town a pig is called a "diushka." Volodin grunted;
everyone laughed.
"Diushka, diushenka," lisped Volodin between the laughter, screwing up
his stupid face and protruding his underlip. And he kept on grunting
and making a fool of himself until he was told that he was a nuisance.
Then he left his chair, with an expression of injury on his face, and
sat down beside Peredonov. He lowered his large forehead like a ram and
fixed his eyes on a spot on the soiled tablecloth.
On the way to Samorodina Varvara decided that she would buy the
material for her wedding dress. She always went shopping with Grushina
who helped her to make selections and to bargain.
Unseen by Peredonov, Varvara had stealthily stuffed Grushina's deep
pockets with sweets and tarts and other gifts for her children.
Grushina surmised that Varvara was in great need of her services.
Varvara's narrow, high-heeled shoes would not allow her to walk much.
She quickly became fatigued. It was for this reason that she usually
took a cab, though the distances in our town are not great. Latterly,
she had frequented Grushina's house. The cabbies had noticed this, for
there were only about a score of them. When Varvara entered a cab they
never asked her where she wanted to go.
They seated themselves in a drozhky and were driven to the house where
Klavdia was servant-maid, in order to make inquiries about her. The
streets were dirty almost everywhere although it had rained only the
day before. The drozhky no sooner rattled on to a solid paved part of
the road than it plunged again into the clinging mud of the unpaved
sections. But, by way of compensation, Varvara's voice rattled on
continuously, now and then accompanied by Grushina's sympathetic
chatter.
"My goose has been to Marfushka's again," said Varvara.
Grushina answered in a sympathetic outburst: "That's how they're trying
to catch him. And why not, he'd be a great catch, especially for
Marfushka. She never dreamt of anyone like him."
"Really, I don't know what to do," confessed Varvara. "He's become
so obstinate lately--it's simply awful. Believe me, my head's in a
constant whirl. He'll really marry and then there's nothing for me but
the streets."
"Don't worry, darling Varvara," said Grushina consolingly. "Don't think
about it. He'll never marry anyone but you. He's used to you."
"He sometimes goes off in the evening, and I can't get to sleep
afterwards," said Varvara. "Who knows? Perhaps he's courting some girl.
Sometimes I toss about all night. Everyone has her eye on him--even
those three Routilov mares of women--but of course they'd hang around
any man's neck. And that fat Zhenka's after him too."
Varvara went on complaining for a long time, and all her conversation
led Grushina to think that Varvara had some favour to ask of her, and
she was gratified at the prospect of a reward.
Klavdia pleased Varvara. The excise officer's wife strongly recommended
her. They engaged her and told her to come that evening, as the excise
officer was leaving at once.
At last they came to Grushina's house. Grushina lived in her own house
in a slovenly enough fashion. The three children were bedraggled,
dirty, stupid and malicious, like dogs that have just come out of water.
Their confidences were just beginning.
"My fool, Ardalyosha," began Varvara, "wants me to write to the
Princess again. It's a waste of time to write to her. She'll either not
answer or she'll answer unsatisfactorily. We're not on very intimate
terms."
The Princess Volchanskaya, with whom Varvara had lived in the past as
a seamstress for simple domestic things, could have helped Peredonov,
since her daughter was married to the Privy-Councillor Stchepkin, who
held an important position in the department of Education. She had
already written in answer to Varvara's petitions in the past year
that she could not ask anything for Varvara's fiancé, but she might
for her husband, if the opportunity offered. This letter did not
satisfy Peredonov, since it expressed merely a vague hope, and did
not definitely state that the Princess would actually find Varvara's
husband an inspector's position. In order to clear up this doubt they
had lately gone to St. Petersburg; Varvara went to the Princess and
later she took Peredonov with her, but purposely delayed the visit so
that they did not find the Princess at home: Varvara realised that at
best the Princess would merely have advised them to get married soon,
making a few vague promises which would not have satisfied Peredonov.
And Varvara decided not to let Peredonov meet the Princess.
"I've no one to depend upon but you," said Varvara. "Help me, darling
Marya Ossipovna!"
"How can I help, my dearest Varvara Dmitrievna?" asked Grushina. "Of
course you know I'm ready to do anything I can for you. Shall I read
your fortune for you?"
Varvara laughed and said: "I know how clever you are, but you must help
me another way."
"How?" asked Grushina, with a tremulous, expectant pleasure.
"That's very simple," replied Varvara. "You write a letter in the
Princess's handwriting and I'll show it to Ardalyon Borisitch."
"But, my dear, how can I do it?" said Grushina, pretending to be
alarmed. "What would become of me if I should be found out?"
Varvara was not in the least disconcerted by her answer, but pulled a
crumpled letter out of her pocket, saying:
"I've brought one of the Princess's letters for you to copy."
Grushina refused for a long time. Varvara saw clearly that Grushina
would consent, but that she was bargaining for a bigger reward, while
Varvara wanted to give less. She gradually increased her promises of
various small gifts, among them an old silk dress, until Grushina saw
that Varvara could not be persuaded to give any more. A stream of
entreaties poured from Varvara's mouth, and Grushina finally took the
letter, making it appear from the expression of her face that she did
so out of pity.
[1] A musical instrument.