"Come and drink your tea, Grischka." With these words Matrona awoke her
husband the next morning.
He lifted his head and looked at her. She was smiling pleasantly at
him; her hair was brushed, and looked glossy and neat, whilst her white
dress gave her a smart, clean appearance.
It pleased him to see her thus, but immediately afterwards the thought
glanced through his brain that the other men in the Infirmary might
also find pleasure in looking at her.
"What's the matter?... Tea's ready?.. I'll have my tea here!... Where
do you want me to go and get it?" he asked, with a frown.
"Come, we'll drink our tea together," she proposed, looking at him with
her grey smiling eyes.
Grigori turned away, and replied in a curt voice that he would come
directly.
As she left the room he stretched himself once more in his bunk and
began to brood.
"Yes ... she calls me to tea ... and is as pleasant as possible! She
has grown thinner too in these last few days...."
He felt pity for her, and would have liked to have prepared an
agreeable surprise for her, perhaps to have bought some cakes or
something of that sort to eat with their tea. But whilst he was washing
he put these thoughts away.... "Why should he spoil his wife?... She
could get on very well without it!"
They drank their tea in a small bright room, the two windows of which
looked out on to the open fields. The gilded rays of the morning sun
lay on the floor. Dew still sparkled on the grass under the window.
Along the distant horizon could be just seen through a light opal
morning mist the trees that bordered the high-road. The sky was
cloudless, and a fresh smell of grass and of damp earth was waited in
at the open windows.
The table stood just between the two windows, and three people sat
down to it; Grigori, Matrona, and a companion of the latter, a tall,
thin, middle-aged person, with a pock-marked face and good-tempered
grey eyes. She was called Felizata Jegorovna, and she was a spinster
and the daughter of a college superintendent She could not drink the
tea provided by the Infirmary, and so used her own samovar. All this
she told Orloff in an excited cracked voice; she invited him hospitably
to take a seat near the window, and to refresh himself with the
"magnificent air of Heaven," whilst she disappeared somewhere for a
time.
"Well, were you very tired yesterday?" Orloff asked his wife.
"I should rather think so," Matrona replied in a lively tone of voice.
"I could scarcely feel my legs under me, and my head was swimming. I
moved about at last as if I were half dead, and could scarcely hold on
till I was released from duty.... I was praying all the time to the
Lord that He would be merciful to us."
"How is it, then? Don't you feel afraid here?"
"What, of the sick people?"
"Of the sick people ... or of anything else...."
"I am only afraid of the dead.... Do you know," ... she bent down
towards him and whispered in a scared voice--"they still move after
they are dead ... it's true, on my soul!"
"I know that ... I have seen it myself!" Grigori continued with an
ironical laugh--"The police-officer Nazaroff nearly gave me a box on
the ear as he lay on the stretcher. I was carrying him to the mortuary,
and all of a sudden he let out with his left hand.... I only just
escaped it ... it's true!"
Grischka was in the best of tempers. Taking his tea in this bright
clean room, from which could be seen endless distances of green fields
and blue sky, pleased him immensely. And there was something else too
which caused him pleasure--something which radiated, as it were, from
his own personality. He felt the desire to show the best side of his
character, and at the same time to appear in Matronal eyes as the hero
of the hour.
"I shall make this my life work.... Heaven itself shall rejoice at it!
I have my own special reasons for doing so.... The people here, I tell
you, are such as one seldom meets in the world...."
He told her now of his conversation with the doctor, and whilst he
unconsciously exaggerated a little, he worked himself into a still
pleasanter frame of mind.
"And then the work itself, too," he continued. "You see, my dear, it's
a holy work ... it's a sort of war. On one side stands the cholera, and
we stand on the opposite side ... who is going to prove the stronger?
We have to sharpen our wits to see that nothing is neglected.... What
is this cholera after all?... We must first understand that clearly,
and then we must use all means possible to fight it.... Doctor
Wasschtschenko said to me, 'We need you, Orloff, in this business.
Don't let yourself be frightened. Continue to rub the feet and the
stomachs of the patients,' he said, and I will rub their insides with
my medicines.... And so we shall thoroughly get the better of the
disease, you will see, and the patient will recover, and will thank
us for restoring him to life.' ... Think of that; you and I together,
Matrona ... you and I!"
He swelled his chest out with a feeling of pride, and looked at Matrona
with sparkling eyes. She smiled back at him, but did not reply. He
looked so handsome whilst he was speaking, and reminded her so of the
Grischka whom she used to know in their early married life.
"On the women's side also every one is so zealous and so good!" she
said, after a pause. "There's that lady doctor with the spectacles, and
all the nurses, they are all first-rate people; they talk to one so
simply, so that one understands at once what they want done."
"Then you are contented also?" asked Grigori, when his enthusiasm had
cooled a little.
"I should rather think I was contented! Lord! yes!... just reckon
up!... I get twelve roubles, and you get twenty.... That makes
thirty-two roubles a month! And our keep besides.... What a lot we
shall be able to save if the cholera lasts right on into the winter!...
Then we shall be able ... at last ... please God ... to get out of that
hole of a cellar!..."
"Hm!... Yes, we can think about that,...." said Orloff thoughtfully;
and after a few moments he tapped Matrona on the shoulder, and
continued, with a ring of hope in his voice, "Ah, Matrona, perhaps the
sun of happiness may yet shine upon us!... We won't lose courage, will
we?"
She also was filled with enthusiasm.
"Yes, if you would only keep sober," she remarked after a few moments'
pause, in a doubtful tone.
"Don't talk about that now; that will depend entirely on
circumstances.... Once our lives become different, then my habits will
alter."
"Please God that may indeed happen!" sighed Matrona from the bottom of
her heart "Well, don't say any more about it!"
"Dear Grischenka!"
They separated, experiencing quite new sensations towards each other.
They were full of joyful courage, and firmly resolved to put forth
all their strength, so as to succeed in their new work. Three or four
days passed, and Orloff had already earned several words of praise
for his quickness and zeal. At the same time he remarked, however,
that the other attendants were envious of him, and were trying to make
mischief, so that he had to be constantly on his guard. This awoke in
him a feeling of enmity, whereas, before that, he had been good friends
with Pronim. The secret and open enmity of these fellow-workers was
really a pain to him. "The jealous brutes," he thought to himself, and
ground his teeth together. "But I'll get the chance some day of paying
them back in their own coin!" Unconsciously his thoughts travelled to
Matrona--for he could talk over everything with her. She would not envy
him his success, and would not, like this fellow Pronim, bum his boots
with carbolic acid.
Each day brought the same busy rush, just as Orloff had experienced at
first But it was now no longer so fatiguing to him, for he got more
accustomed to it every day. He had learnt to distinguish the smells of
the different remedies, and as often as possible he refreshed himself
with the smell of the ether, to which he had taken a great fancy. He
had observed that the smell of ether was as exciting to him as was
a good glass of vodka. He understood quite quickly now the doctors'
orders; it was only necessary for them to show him by signs what had
to be done. He was chatty and pleasant, and knew how to divert the
attention of the patients, and this pleased increasingly the doctors
and students. All the impressions which in his new occupation pressed
in upon him, worked together to elevate his feelings, and to increase
his own self-respect. He felt within himself a lively desire to do
something great, so that the attention of all should be directed to
him, and that every one should be astonished. It seemed almost as if he
had now for the first time become conscious that he was a human being,
and as if he felt the need to prove this to himself and others by some
heroic deed. Filled with this unaccustomed ambition, Orloff undertook
various venturesome deeds, in the hopes of distinguishing himself in
the eyes of onlookers. For instance, he would carry alone, without
waiting for the help of another attendant, some heavy patient from his
bed to the bath-room; he did not shrink from attending to the most
filthy among the cholera patients, seeming to despise the possibility
of infection, and treating the corpses with cynical indifference.
But even all this did not satisfy him. He still longed to do something
greater, something more out of the common. This unappeased longing
caused him pain, and brought back his former moodiness, and as he had
no one else with whom he could speak, he opened his heart to Matrona.
One evening when they were off duty, and had had their tea, they went
out into the fields together. The Infirmary stood some way out at the
back of the town, in the midst of a green far-stretching plain, bounded
on one side by the dark edge of the forest, and on the other by the
soft outline of the distant town. Towards the north the field extended
into the far distance, and faded into a dim blue horizon; on the south
it was bordered by the deep ravine-like banks of the river, which ran
through the country roads, shaded on either side by trees planted at
regular intervals The sun was just setting, and the golden crosses
of the church-towers of the town, rising above the dark green of the
gardens, flashed in all their brilliance against the background of the
sky, and reflected golden rays. The windows also of the houses flashed
back the red glow of the sunset. Music could be heard in the distance.
From the dense ravine, sown thickly with the débris of the fir-trees
bordering the river, an aromatic scent arose, whilst the evening
wind brought from the forest in caressing waves a mingling of spicy
perfumes. A soft, sweetly melancholy, yet intense feeling, lay over the
whole wide expanse.
The Orloffs walked silently through the fields, breathing delightedly
the fresh air, which, in contrast with the atmosphere of the Infirmary,
seemed to them more than ordinarily pleasant.
"Listen! there's a band!... Is it in the town or up at the barracks?"
Matrona asked in a low voice of her husband, who seemed to be sunk in
thought.
She did not like him to brood in this sort of way by himself. He
appeared to her at such moments strange and far away. They had seen but
little of each other these last few days, so that the moments now when
they were together, seemed to her all the more precious.
"A band?" asked Grigori, as if waking out of a dream, "the devil take
such music!... You should just listen to the music which is ringing
through my soul.... That's the right sort of music!..."
"What sort of music are you talking about?" said Matrona, looking
anxiously into his eyes.
"I don't know myself what sort.... I can't describe it to you, and if I
could you would not understand. My soul seems in a sort of glow.... I
should like to go forth, far, far away.... I should like to put forth
my whole strength.... Ah! I feel within me such boundless strength!...
If for instance this cholera would change itself into a man, into
a giant, into Ilja Murometz himself, for instance ... then I would
wrestle with him, and we would see who would conquer!... Thou art
strong, and I, Grischka Orloff, am also strong ... we will see which is
the stronger of the two! ... And I would overcome him, even if I myself
lost my life in the struggle.... They would erect a cross to me there
in the green fields, 'To the Memory of Grigori Andrejeff Orloff ... who
freed Russia from the Cholera.' ... That's all I should want!"
His face flushed, and his eyes flashed whilst he was speaking.
"My dear brave one!" whispered Matrona, and pressed tenderly against
him.
"I would throw myself against a hundred sharp knives if I could do
any good.... Do you understand? that?... Not for my own profit, but
to make men's lives happier.... I see there such people as the doctor
Wasschtschenko and the student Chochrjakoff; the work they do is quite
wonderful. One would think they would have died long ago from absolute
fatigue.... Do you think they work for the love of money? No man would
work like that for money only! The head doctor has plenty of his own
... he needs no more ... he is a rich man already.... When he was ill
lately, Doctor Wasschtschenko watched by him for four days and nights;
not once did he go home during the whole time.... Money plays no part
in all this; they do it out of pity ... they are sorry for the people,
and so they sacrifice themselves ... And for whom?... For everybody ...
as much for Mischka Ussoff as for anybody else.... They took as much
pains to get him better as they did about the others, and they were
quite rejoiced when he got better. This Mishka, if he had his deserts,
should be in penal servitude, for every one knows that he is a thief or
something worse!... Yet they were quite rejoiced when he got out of bed
for the first time, and laughed aloud for pure joy!... I should like to
feel such happiness also; I am full of envy when I see how glad they
are, and I grow hot with the desire to do as they do. But how am I to
begin?... Ah!'tis a devil of a business!..."
He made a hopeless gesture, expressive of his despair, and once more
sank into profound reflection. Matrona was silent, but her heart beat
rapidly. The excited state of mind of her husband made her feel vaguely
anxious. She felt distinctly in his words the burning pain which
oppressed him during his, to her, incomprehensible fits of depression.
She loved her husband; and it was a husband she needed, not a hero....
They approached the steep banks of the river, and sat down near each
other on the grass. Above them nodded the feathery tops of the young
birch-trees. Down below, over the water, lay a blue mist, reeking
of rotting leaves, of pine-needles, and of damp earth. Backwards
and forwards a light breath of wind swept over the ravine; the tops
of the young trees moved softly, and the whole forest seemed filled
simultaneously with a shy whispering, as if some beloved person were
asleep under the shelter of its trees, and it feared to wake him. The
stars shone down from above, and the lights flashed from the town,
having the appearance, against the dark background, of gardens of gay
quivering flowers. The Orloffs sat on in silence. Grigori drummed with
his fingers on his knee, whilst Matrona watched him and sighed softly.
Suddenly she put her arms round his neck, laid her head against his
breast, and whispered--
"Grischenka, my dear one, my loved one! How good you have grown
towards me, my dear brave lad!... We are living now just as we did when
we were first married--you never say a bad word to me.... You talk to
me, and open your heart to me.... Not once have you scolded me...."
"Are you already longing for something of that sort? If so, I will give
you a thorough good beating," he said jokingly, whilst he felt for her
in his heart nothing but sympathy and tenderness. He stroked her hair
softly, and experienced a real pleasure in giving her these fatherly
caresses. Matrona appeared to him at this moment as a child. She sat on
his knees, and nestled soft and warm against his breast.
"My dear, dear one!" she whispered.
He breathed deeply, and words poured from his mouth, which were to her,
and to himself, full of new meaning.
"Ah! my poor little girl!... Little coaxing thing! You see now, you
have no one nearer to you in the world than your husband! And you look
at me always with such a frightened glance out of the corner of your
eye. If I have hurt you now and then, it was because I was suffering
from this ache, Motrja! We lived in our hole ... we saw no sunlight, we
knew no one. Now I have got out of the hole, and am among human beings.
How blind I was to the world and to life!... Now I understand that a
wife should be a man's best friend, the friend of his heart, so to
speak. For men are vicious and cruel.... They are always trying to harm
one another.... There's this Pronim Wasioukoff!... devil take him!...
We won't talk of that, Motrja. We shall be all right in time, and we
won't lose courage! We will live in a human way, and reasonably, won't
we?... What do you say to that, you dear little goose?"
She was crying. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as she realized the
happiness which he pictured to her; and she only replied with kisses.
"Ah! my only loved one!" he whispered, returning her caresses. Clinging
tenderly together, they sat there and kissed the salt tears from each
other's cheeks. And for some time Orloff continued to speak in the same
new tone....
It had become quite dark. Countless stars lit up the evening sky, which
looked down with triumphant sadness on the earth. The plain all around
them was as peaceful as the heavens above.