The masked ball took place at the Club House in the Market Square--a
two-storied building of stone, painted bright red, resembling a
barracks. It was arranged by Gromov-Chistopolsky, the actor-manager
of the local theatre. The entrance, which was covered in by a calico
canopy, was lighted by lamps. The crowd standing in the street
criticised the arrivals, for the most part unfavourably, the more so
since in the streets the costumes were almost hidden under outside
wraps; the crowd judged chiefly by guesswork. The policemen zealously
kept order in the street, while in the hall itself the Commissioner of
Police and a police-inspector were present as guests.
Every guest received on entering two cards, one pink, for the best
woman's costume; one green, for the man's, which were to be handed to
the chosen persons. Some asked:
"And can we keep them for ourselves?"
At the beginning the attendant at the ticket-office asked in
astonishment:
"Why for yourselves?"
"But suppose we think our own costumes the best?" was the reply.
Later the attendant ceased to be astonished at these questions, and
being a young man with a sense of humour, said ironically:
"Help yourself! Keep both if you like."
It was dirtyish in the hall, and from the very beginning a number of
the crowd were tipsy. In the close rooms, with their smoke-begrimed
walls and ceilings, burned crooked lustres; they seemed huge, heavy
and stifling. The faded curtains at the doors looked such that one
hesitated to brush against them. Here and there knots of people
gathered, exclamations and laughter were heard--this was caused by
certain costumes which attracted general attention.
The notary Goudayevsky went as an American Indian. He had cock's
feathers in his hair, a copper-red mask with absurd green designs on
it, a leather jacket, a check plaid over his shoulder, and high leather
boots with green tassels. He waved his arms, jumped about, and walked
like an athlete, jerking up his naked knees exaggeratedly. His wife was
dressed as an ear of corn. She had on a costume of brightly coloured
green and yellow patches; ears of corn stuck out from her on every
side. They caught everyone she passed and pricked them. She was jostled
and pinched as she went along. She said angrily:
"I'll scratch you!"
Everyone near laughed. Some one asked:
"Where did she get so many corn stalks?"
"She laid in a store last summer," was the answer. "She stole some
every day from the fields!"
Several moustacheless officials, who were in love with Goudayevskaya,
and who had therefore been told by her how she would be dressed,
accompanied her. They collected cards for her--rudely and almost by
force. They simply took them away from some who were not very bold.
There were other masked women who were zealously collecting cards
through their cavaliers. Others looked greedily at the cards which had
not yet been given up, and asked for them. These received impertinent
answers. One dejected woman, dressed as Night--in a blue costume with a
glass star and a paper moon on her forehead--said timidly to Mourin:
"Do give me your card."
Mourin replied rudely:
"What d'you mean? Give you my card? I don't like your mug!"
Night muttered something angrily and walked away. She only wanted two
or three cards to show at home, to prove that she had received some.
Modest desires often go unsatisfied.
The schoolmistress, Skobotchkina, dressed herself as a she-bear, that
is, she simply threw a bearskin cross her shoulders and put on a bear's
head as a helmet over the usual half-mask. This was generally speaking
shapeless, but it suited her stout figure and stentorian voice. The
bear walked with heavy footsteps, and bellowed so loudly that the
lights in the lustres trembled. Many people liked the bear, and she
received quite a number of tickets. She was unable to keep the cards
herself, and had not found a clever cavalier like others of the ladies;
more than half of her tickets were stolen when she was being given
vodka by some of the small tradesmen--they had a fellow-feeling for her
sudden ability to display bearish manners. People in the crowd shouted
out:
"Look how the bear swigs vodka!"
Skobotchkina could not decide to refuse vodka. It seemed to her that a
she-bear should drink vodka when it was brought to her.
A man dressed as an ancient German was conspicuous by his stature and
fine build. He pleased many because of his robustness and because his
powerful arms with their well-developed muscles were visible. Women
particularly walked after him, and all around him rose a whisper of
admiration and of flattery. The ancient German was recognised as the
actor, Bengalsky, who is a favourite in our town. That was why he
received a large number of tickets. Many people argued thus:
"If I can't get the prize, then at least let an actor (or an actress)
get it. If any of us get it they will tire us out with boasting."
Grushina's costume was also a success--a scandalous success. The
men followed her in a thick crowd, with laughter and indelicate
observations. The women turned away in embarrassment. At last the
Commissioner of Police walked up to Grushina and said suavely:
"Madame, I'm afraid you must cover yourself."
"Why? There's nothing indecent to be seen about me," replied Grushina
vigorously.
"Madame, the ladies are offended," said Minchukov.
"What do I care for your ladies?" shouted Grushina.
"Now, Madame," insisted Minchukov, "you must put at least a
handkerchief on your chest and back."
"Suppose my handkerchief's dirty?" said Grushina with a vulgar laugh.
But Minchukov insisted:
"As you please, Madame; but if you don't cover yourself a little,
you'll have to go."
Grumbling violently, Grushina went into the dressing-room and with the
help of the attendant rearranged the folds of her dress across her
chest and back. When she returned to the hall, though she looked more
modest, she just as zealously sought for admirers. She flirted vulgarly
with any man. Then when people's attention was elsewhere she went into
the refreshment-room to steal sweets. Soon she returned to the hall,
and showing Volodin a couple of peaches, smiled impudently and said:
"I got them myself!"
And immediately the peaches were hidden in the folds of her costume.
Volodin's face lit up with joy.
"Well," he said, "if so, I'll go too."
Soon Grushina got tipsy and began to behave boisterously--she shouted,
waved her arms and spat.
"Dianka's getting very happy!" everyone said about her.
Such was the masked ball to which the foolish girls had enticed the
scatter-brained schoolboy. The three sisters and Sasha took two cabs
and arrived rather late, on his account. Their arrival in the hall was
noticed. The Geisha particularly pleased many people. The rumour went
round that the Geisha was Kashtanova, the actress, very popular with
the male portion of local society. And that was why Sasha received a
large number of cards. But in fact Kashtanova was not there, for her
little boy had fallen dangerously ill.
Sasha, intoxicated by his new situation, coquetted furiously. The more
they stuck their cards into the Geisha's little hand, the more gaily
and provokingly gleamed the eyes of the coquettish Geisha through
the narrow slits of the mask. The Geisha curtsied, lifted her small
fingers, laughed in an intimate tone, waved her fan, struck first one
man and then another on the shoulder, then hid her face behind her
fan and frequently opened out her rose parasol. However, these not
over-graceful actions attracted many who admired the actress Kashtanova.
"I will give my card to the most beautiful of ladies," said Tishkov,
and handed his card to the Geisha with a gallant bow.
He had taken a good deal to drink and his face was flushed; his
motionlessly smiling face and awkward figure made him look like a doll.
And he kept continually rhyming.
Valeria looked on at Sasha's success, and felt envious and annoyed;
she now wanted to be recognised and to have her costume and slender,
graceful figure please the crowd, and be awarded the prize. And now she
sadly thought that this was not possible, as all the three sisters had
agreed to get cards only for the Geisha, and even to give their own to
her.
They were dancing in the hall. Volodin got tipsy very soon and began to
dance the "squat" dance. The police stopped him.
He said cheerfully and obediently:
"Well, if I mustn't, then I mustn't."
But two other men who had followed his example and were dancing the
"squat" dance refused to obey the order.
"What right have you to stop us? Haven't we paid our half-rouble?" they
exclaimed and were escorted out. Volodin went with them to the door,
cutting capers, smiling and dancing.
The Routilov girls made haste to find Peredonov to make a fool of him.
He sat alone at the window and looked at the crowd with wandering eyes.
All people and objects seemed to him senseless, inharmonious, and
equally hostile. Liudmilla, in her gipsy dress, went up to him and said
in a guttural voice:
"Shall I tell your fortune, pretty gentleman?"
"Go to the devil!" shouted Peredonov.
The gipsy's sudden appearance frightened him.
"Give me your hand, dear gentleman, pretty gentleman. I can see from
your face that you'll be rich. You'll be an important official,"
Liudmilla importuned him, and took his hand.
"Well, see that you give me a good fortune," growled Peredonov.
"My sweet gentleman," began the gipsy, "you have many enemies, they'll
inform against you, you will weep, you will die under a fence."
"Carrion!" shouted Peredonov, and snatched his hand away.
Liudmilla quickly disappeared in the crowd. Then Valeria took her
place. She sat down beside Peredonov and whispered to him very tenderly:
"I am a lovely Spanish maid,
And I love such men as you,
But that your wife's a wretched jade,
Handsome gentleman, is true."
"It's a lie, you fool," growled Peredonov.
Valeria went on:
"Hotter than day, sweeter than night,
Is my keen Seville kiss;
Spit in her dull eyes, my light,
And see that you don't miss.
Varvara is your wife,
You are handsome, Ardalyon;
She's a plague upon your life,
You're as wise as Solomon."
"That's true enough," said Peredonov, "but how can I spit in her eyes?
She'll complain to the Princess and I shan't get the place."
"And why do you want the place? You're good enough without the place,"
said Valeria.
"Yes, but how can I live if I don't get it?" said Peredonov dejectedly.
* * * * *
Darya stuck into Volodin's hand a letter with a red seal on it.
Volodin unsealed the letter, bleating happily, read it and lapsed into
thought--he looked proud and a little flurried. It was written briefly
and clearly:
"Come, my darling, and meet me to-morrow night at eleven o'clock at the
Soldiers' Baths. Your unknown J."
Volodin believed in the letter, but the question was--was it worth
going? And who was this "J"? Was it some sort of Jenny? Or was it the
surname which began with "J"?
Volodin showed the letter to Routilov.
"Go, of course go," Routilov urged him, "and see what happens. Perhaps
it's some rich catch, who's fallen in love with you and the parents are
against it, so she's taken this way of speaking to you."
But Volodin thought and thought and decided that it was not worth while
going. He said with an important air:
"They're always running after me, but I don't want girls so loose that
they run away from home."
He was afraid that he would get a beating, for the Soldiers' Baths were
situated in a lonely place on the outskirts of the town.
* * * * *
When the dense, noisy, uproariously gay crowd was pushing its way into
every part of the Club House, from the door of the dancing hall came
a noise, laughter and exclamations of approval. Everyone crowded in
that direction. It was announced from one to another that a fearfully
original mask had come in. A thin, tall man, in a greasy, patched
dressing-gown, with a besom under his arm, with a hat in his hand, made
his way through the crowd. He had a cardboard mask on,--a stupid face,
with a small, narrow beard and side whiskers, and on his head was a cap
with a round official badge. He kept repeating in an astonished voice:
"They told me there was a masquerade[1] here, but no one seems to be
bathing."
And he languidly swung a pail. The crowd followed him, exclaiming, and
genuinely admiring his original idea.
"He'll get the prize," said Volodin enviously.
Like many others, he envied unthinkingly--he himself wore no costume,
so why should he be envious? Machigin was enthusiastic over this
costume, the badge especially aroused his delight. He laughed
uproariously, clapped his hands, and observed to acquaintances and to
strangers:
"A fine criticism! These officials always make a great deal of
themselves--they wear badges and uniforms. Well, here's a fine
criticism for them--very clever indeed."
When it got hot, the official in the dressing-gown began to fan himself
with the besom, exclaiming:
"Well, here's a bath for you."[2]
Those near laughed gleefully. There was a shower of cards into the pail.
Peredonov looked at the besom wavering above the crowd. He thought it
was the nedotikomka.
"She's gone green, the beast!" he thought in horror.
[1] Masquerade. This word is used in Russia to mean either a ball or a
bath, owing to the fact that clothes are taken off on both occasions.
[2] Referring to the fact that a besom is used in Russian and Turkish
baths.