GRISHA, a fat, solemn little person of seven, was standing by the
kitchen door listening and peeping through the keyhole. In the
kitchen something extraordinary, and in his opinion never seen
before, was taking place. A big, thick-set, red-haired peasant,
with a beard, and a drop of perspiration on his nose, wearing a
cabman's full coat, was sitting at the kitchen table on which they
chopped the meat and sliced the onions. He was balancing a saucer
on the five fingers of his right hand and drinking tea out of it,
and crunching sugar so loudly that it sent a shiver down Grisha's
back. Aksinya Stepanovna, the old nurse, was sitting on the dirty
stool facing him, and she, too, was drinking tea. Her face was
grave, though at the same time it beamed with a kind of triumph.
Pelageya, the cook, was busy at the stove, and was apparently trying
to hide her face. And on her face Grisha saw a regular illumination:
it was burning and shifting through every shade of colour, beginning
with a crimson purple and ending with a deathly white. She was
continually catching hold of knives, forks, bits of wood, and rags
with trembling hands, moving, grumbling to herself, making a clatter,
but in reality doing nothing. She did not once glance at the table
at which they were drinking tea, and to the questions put to her
by the nurse she gave jerky, sullen answers without turning her
face.
"Help yourself, Danilo Semyonitch," the nurse urged him hospitably.
"Why do you keep on with tea and nothing but tea? You should have
a drop of vodka!"
And nurse put before the visitor a bottle of vodka and a wine-glass,
while her face wore a very wily expression.
"I never touch it. . . . No . . ." said the cabman, declining.
"Don't press me, Aksinya Stepanovna."
"What a man! . . . A cabman and not drink! . . . A bachelor can't
get on without drinking. Help yourself!"
The cabman looked askance at the bottle, then at nurse's wily face,
and his own face assumed an expression no less cunning, as much as
to say, "You won't catch me, you old witch!"
"I don't drink; please excuse me. Such a weakness does not do in
our calling. A man who works at a trade may drink, for he sits at
home, but we cabmen are always in view of the public. Aren't we?
If one goes into a pothouse one finds one's horse gone; if one takes
a drop too much it is worse still; before you know where you are
you will fall asleep or slip off the box. That's where it is."
"And how much do you make a day, Danilo Semyonitch?"
"That's according. One day you will have a fare for three roubles,
and another day you will come back to the yard without a farthing.
The days are very different. Nowadays our business is no good. There
are lots and lots of cabmen as you know, hay is dear, and folks are
paltry nowadays and always contriving to go by tram. And yet, thank
God, I have nothing to complain of. I have plenty to eat and good
clothes to wear, and . . . we could even provide well for another. . ."
(the cabman stole a glance at Pelageya) "if it were to their
liking. . . ."
Grisha did not hear what was said further. His mamma came to the
door and sent him to the nursery to learn his lessons.
"Go and learn your lesson. It's not your business to listen here!"
When Grisha reached the nursery, he put "My Own Book" in front of
him, but he did not get on with his reading. All that he had just
seen and heard aroused a multitude of questions in his mind.
"The cook's going to be married," he thought. "Strange--I don't
understand what people get married for. Mamma was married to papa,
Cousin Verotchka to Pavel Andreyitch. But one might be married to
papa and Pavel Andreyitch after all: they have gold watch-chains
and nice suits, their boots are always polished; but to marry that
dreadful cabman with a red nose and felt boots. . . . Fi! And why
is it nurse wants poor Pelageya to be married?"
When the visitor had gone out of the kitchen, Pelageya appeared and
began clearing away. Her agitation still persisted. Her face was
red and looked scared. She scarcely touched the floor with the
broom, and swept every corner five times over. She lingered for a
long time in the room where mamma was sitting. She was evidently
oppressed by her isolation, and she was longing to express herself,
to share her impressions with some one, to open her heart.
"He's gone," she muttered, seeing that mamma would not begin the
conversation.
"One can see he is a good man," said mamma, not taking her eyes off
her sewing. "Sober and steady."
"I declare I won't marry him, mistress!" Pelageya cried suddenly,
flushing crimson. "I declare I won't!"
"Don't be silly; you are not a child. It's a serious step; you must
think it over thoroughly, it's no use talking nonsense. Do you like
him?"
"What an idea, mistress!" cried Pelageya, abashed. "They say such
things that . . . my goodness. . . ."
"She should say she doesn't like him!" thought Grisha.
"What an affected creature you are. . . . Do you like him?"
"But he is old, mistress!"
"Think of something else," nurse flew out at her from the next room.
"He has not reached his fortieth year; and what do you want a young
man for? Handsome is as handsome does. . . . Marry him and that's
all about it!"
"I swear I won't," squealed Pelageya.
"You are talking nonsense. What sort of rascal do you want? Anyone
else would have bowed down to his feet, and you declare you won't
marry him. You want to be always winking at the postmen and tutors.
That tutor that used to come to Grishenka, mistress . . . she was
never tired of making eyes at him. O-o, the shameless hussy!"
"Have you seen this Danilo before?" mamma asked Pelageya.
"How could I have seen him? I set eyes on him to-day for the first
time. Aksinya picked him up and brought him along . . . the accursed
devil. . . . And where has he come from for my undoing!"
At dinner, when Pelageya was handing the dishes, everyone looked
into her face and teased her about the cabman. She turned fearfully
red, and went off into a forced giggle.
"It must be shameful to get married," thought Grisha. "Terribly
shameful."
All the dishes were too salt, and blood oozed from the half-raw
chickens, and, to cap it all, plates and knives kept dropping out
of Pelageya's hands during dinner, as though from a shelf that had
given way; but no one said a word of blame to her, as they all
understood the state of her feelings. Only once papa flicked his
table-napkin angrily and said to mamma:
"What do you want to be getting them all married for? What business
is it of yours? Let them get married of themselves if they want
to."
After dinner, neighbouring cooks and maidservants kept flitting
into the kitchen, and there was the sound of whispering till late
evening. How they had scented out the matchmaking, God knows. When
Grisha woke in the night he heard his nurse and the cook whispering
together in the nursery. Nurse was talking persuasively, while the
cook alternately sobbed and giggled. When he fell asleep after this,
Grisha dreamed of Pelageya being carried off by Tchernomor and a
witch.
Next day there was a calm. The life of the kitchen went on its
accustomed way as though the cabman did not exist. Only from time
to time nurse put on her new shawl, assumed a solemn and austere
air, and went off somewhere for an hour or two, obviously to conduct
negotiations. . . . Pelageya did not see the cabman, and when his
name was mentioned she flushed up and cried:
"May he be thrice damned! As though I should be thinking of him!
Tfoo!"
In the evening mamma went into the kitchen, while nurse and Pelageya
were zealously mincing something, and said:
"You can marry him, of course--that's your business--but I must
tell you, Pelageya, that he cannot live here. . . . You know I don't
like to have anyone sitting in the kitchen. Mind now, remember
. . . . And I can't let you sleep out."
"Goodness knows! What an idea, mistress!" shrieked the cook. "Why
do you keep throwing him up at me? Plague take him! He's a regular
curse, confound him! . . ."
Glancing one Sunday morning into the kitchen, Grisha was struck
dumb with amazement. The kitchen was crammed full of people. Here
were cooks from the whole courtyard, the porter, two policemen, a
non-commissioned officer with good-conduct stripes, and the boy
Filka. . . . This Filka was generally hanging about the laundry
playing with the dogs; now he was combed and washed, and was holding
an ikon in a tinfoil setting. Pelageya was standing in the middle
of the kitchen in a new cotton dress, with a flower on her head.
Beside her stood the cabman. The happy pair were red in the face
and perspiring and blinking with embarrassment.
"Well . . . I fancy it is time," said the non-commissioned officer,
after a prolonged silence.
Pelageya's face worked all over and she began blubbering. . . .
The soldier took a big loaf from the table, stood beside nurse, and
began blessing the couple. The cabman went up to the soldier, flopped
down on his knees, and gave a smacking kiss on his hand. He did the
same before nurse. Pelageya followed him mechanically, and she too
bowed down to the ground. At last the outer door was opened, there
was a whiff of white mist, and the whole party flocked noisily out
of the kitchen into the yard.
"Poor thing, poor thing," thought Grisha, hearing the sobs of the
cook. "Where have they taken her? Why don't papa and mamma protect
her?"
After the wedding there was singing and concertina-playing in the
laundry till late evening. Mamma was cross all the evening because
nurse smelt of vodka, and owing to the wedding there was no one to
heat the samovar. Pelageya had not come back by the time Grisha
went to bed.
"The poor thing is crying somewhere in the dark!" he thought. "While
the cabman is saying to her 'shut up!'"
Next morning the cook was in the kitchen again. The cabman came in
for a minute. He thanked mamma, and glancing sternly at Pelageya,
said:
"Will you look after her, madam? Be a father and a mother to her.
And you, too, Aksinya Stepanovna, do not forsake her, see that
everything is as it should be . . . without any nonsense. . . . And
also, madam, if you would kindly advance me five roubles of her
wages. I have got to buy a new horse-collar."
Again a problem for Grisha: Pelageya was living in freedom, doing
as she liked, and not having to account to anyone for her actions,
and all at once, for no sort of reason, a stranger turns up, who
has somehow acquired rights over her conduct and her property!
Grisha was distressed. He longed passionately, almost to tears, to
comfort this victim, as he supposed, of man's injustice. Picking
out the very biggest apple in the store-room he stole into the
kitchen, slipped it into Pelageya's hand, and darted headlong away.