On the way to Yamskaya Street Rovinskaya said to Chaplinsky:
“You’ll bring me at first into the most luxurious place, then into a
medium one, and then into the filthiest.”
“My dear Ellena Victorovna,” warmly retorted Chaplinsky, “I’m ready to
do everything for you. It is without false boasting when I say that I
would give my life away at your order, ruin my career and position at a
mere sign of yours ... But I dare not bring you to these houses.
Russian manners are coarse, and often simply inhuman manners. I’m
afraid that you will be insulted by some pungent, unseemly word, or
that a chance visitor will play some senseless prank before you ...”
“Ah, my God,” impatiently interrupted Rovinskaya; “when I was singing
in London, there were many at that time paying court to me, and I did
not hesitate to go and see the filthiest dens of Whitechapel in a
choice company. I will say, that I was treated there very carefully and
anticipatingly. I will also say, that there were with me at that time
two English aristocrats; lords, both sportsmen, both people unusually
strong physically and morally, who, of course, would never have allowed
a woman to be offended. However, perhaps you, Volodya, are of the race
of cowards?”
Chaplinsky flared up:
“Oh, no, no, Ellena Victorovna. I forewarned you only out of love for
you. But if you command, then I’m ready to go where you will. Not only
on this dubious undertaking, but even very death itself.”
By this time they had already driven up to the most luxurious
establishment in the Yamkas—Treppel’s. Ryazanov the lawyer said,
smiling with his usual ironic smile:
“And so, the inspection of the menagerie begins.”
They were led into a cabinet with crimson wall paper, and on the wall
paper was repeated, in the “empire” style, a golden design in the form
of small laurel wreaths. And at once Rovinskaya recognized, with the
keen memory of an artiste, that exactly the same paper had also been in
that cabinet in which they had just been sitting.
Four German women from the Baltic provinces came out. All of them
stout, full-breasted, blonde, powdered, very important and respectful.
The conversation did not catch on at first. The girls sat immovable,
like carvings of stone, in order to pretend with all their might that
they were respectable ladies. Even the champagne, which Ryazanov called
for, did not improve the mood. Rovinskaya was the first to come to the
aid of the party. Turning to the stoutest, fairest German of all, who
resembled a loaf, she asked politely in German:
“Tell me, where were you born? Germany, in all probability?”
“No, gnadige Frau, I am from Riga.”
“What compels you to serve here, then? Not poverty, I hope?”
“Of course not, gnadige Frau. But, you understand, my bridegroom, Hans,
works as a kellner in a restaurant-automat, and we are too poor to be
married now. I bring my savings to a bank, and he does the same. When
we have saved the ten thousand roubles we need, we will open our own
beer-hall, and, if God will bless us, then we shall allow ourselves the
luxury of having children. Two children. A boy and a girl.”
“But, listen to me, mein Fraulein!” Rovinskaya was amazed. “You are
young, handsome, know two languages ...”
“Three, madam,” proudly put in the German. “I know Esthonian as well. I
finished the municipal school and three classes of high school.”
“Well, then, you see, you see ...” Rovinskaya became heated. “With such
an education you could always find a place with everything found, and
about thirty roubles. Well, in the capacity of a housekeeper, bonne,
senior clerk in a good store, a cashier, let’s say ... And if your
future bridegroom ... Fritz ...”
“Hans, madam ...”
“If Hans proved to be an industrious and thrifty man, then it would not
be at all hard for you to get up on your feet altogether, after three
or four years. What do you think?”
“Ah, madam, you are a little mistaken. You have overlooked that, in the
very best of positions, I, even denying myself in everything, will not
be able to put aside more than fifteen, twenty roubles a month; whereas
here, with a prudent economy, I gain up to a hundred roubles and at
once carry them away with a book into the savings bank. And besides
that, just imagine, gnadige Frau, what a humiliating position to be the
servant in a house! Always to depend on the caprice or the disposition
of the spirits of the masters! And the master always pesters you with
foolishness. Pfui! .. And the mistress is jealous, picks, and scolds.”
“No ... I don’t understand ...” meditatively drawled Rovinskaya,
without looking the German in the eyes, but casting hers on the floor.
“I’ve heard a great deal of your life here, in these ... what do you
call them? .. these houses. They say it is something horrible. That
you’re forced to love the most repulsive, old and hideous men, that you
are plucked and exploited in the most cruel manner ...”
“Oh, never, madam ... Each one of us has an account book, wherein is
written accurately the income and expense. During last month I earned a
little more than five hundred roubles. As always, two-thirds went to
the proprietress for board, quarters, fuel, light, linen ... There
remains to me more than a hundred and fifty, it is not so? Fifty I
spent on costumes and all sorts of trifles. A hundred I save. What
exploitation is it, then, madam, I ask you? And if I do not like a man
at all—true, there are some who are exceedingly nasty—I can always say
I am sick, and instead of me will go one of the newest girls ...”
“But then ... pardon me, I do not know your name ...”
“Elsa.”
“They say, that you’re treated very roughly ... beaten at times ...
compelled to do that which you don’t want to and which is repulsive to
you?”
“Never, madam!” dropped Elsa haughtily. “We all live here as a friendly
family of our own. We are all natives of the same land or relatives,
and God grant that many should live so in their own families as we live
here. True, on Yamskaya Street there happen various scandals and fights
and misunderstandings. But that’s there ... in these ... in the rouble
establishments. The Russian girls drink a lot and always have one
lover. And they do not think at all of their future.”
“You are prudent, Elsa,” said Rovinskaya in an oppressed tone. “All
this is well. But, what of the chance disease? Infection? Why, that is
death? And how can you guess?”
“And again—no, madam. I won’t let a man into my bed before I make a
detailed medical inspection of him ... I am guaranteed, at the least,
against seventy-five per cent.”
“The devil!” suddenly exclaimed Rovinskaya with heat and hit the table
with her fist. “But, then, what of your Albert ...”
“Hans,” the German corrected her meekly.
“Pardon me ... Your Hans surely does not rejoice greatly over the fact
that you are living here, and that you betray him every day?”
Elsa looked at her with sincere, lively amazement.
“But gnadige Frau ... I have never yet betrayed him! It is other lost
wenches, especially Russian, who have lovers for themselves, on whom
they spend their hard-earned money. But that I should ever let myself
go as far as that? Pfui!”
“A greater fall I have not imagined!” said Rovinskaya loudly and with
aversion, getting up. “Pay gentlemen, and let’s go on from here.”
When they had gone out into the street, Volodya took her arm and said
in an imploring voice:
“For God’s sake, isn’t one experiment enough for you?”
“Oh, what vulgarity! What vulgarity!”
“That’s why I’m saying, let’s drop this experiment.”
“No, in any case I am going through with it to the finish. Show me
something simpler, more of the medium.”
Volodya Chaplinsky, who was all the time in a torment over Ellena
Victorovna, offered the most likely thing—to drop into the
establishment of Anna Markovna, which was only ten steps away.
But it was just here that strong impressions awaited them. Simeon did
not want to let them in, and only several gold pieces, which Ryazanov
gave him, softened him. They took up a cabinet, almost the same as at
Treppel’s, only somewhat shabbier and more faded. At the command of
Emma Edwardovna, the girls were herded into the cabinet. But it was the
same as letting a goat into a truck-garden or mixing soda and acid. The
main mistake, however, was that they let Jennka in there as
well—wrathful, irritated, with impudent fires in her eyes. The modest,
quiet Tamara was the last to walk in, with her shy and depraved smile
of a Monna Lisa. In the end, almost the entire personnel of the
establishment gathered in the cabinet. Rovinskaya no longer risked
asking “How did you come to this life?” But it must be said, that the
inmates of the house met her with an outward hospitality. Ellena
Victorovna asked them to sing their usual canonical songs, and they
willingly sang:
Monday now is come again,
They’re supposed to get me out;
Doctor Krassov won’t let me out,
Well, the devil take him then.
And further:
Poor little, poor little, poor little me,
The public house is closed,
My head’s aching me...
The love of a loafer
Is spice, is spice;
But the prostitute
Is as cold as ice.
Ha-ha-ha!
They came together
Matched as well as might be,
She is a prostitute,
A pickpocket he.
Ha-ha-ha!
Now morning has come,
He is planning a theft;
While she lies in her bed
And laughs like she’s daft.
Ha-ha-ha!
Comes morning, the laddie
Is led to the pen;
But for the prostitute
His pals await then.
Ha-ha-ha! ...
[12] While there can be but little doubt that these four stanzas are an
actual transcript from life, Heinrich Heine’s “Ein Weib” is such a
striking parallel that it may be reproduced here as a matter of
interest. The translation is by Mr. Louis Untermeyer.—Trans.
A WOMAN
They loved each other beyond belief—
She was a strumpet, he was a thief;
Whenever she thought of his tricks, thereafter
She’d throw herself on the bed with laughter.
The day was spent with a reckless zest;
At night she lay upon his breast.
So when they took him, a while thereafter
She watched at the window—with laughter.
He sent word pleading “Oh come to me,
I need you, need you bitterly,
Yes, here and in the hereafter.”
Her little head shook with laughter.
At six in the morning they swung him high;
At seven the turf on his grave was dry;
At eight, however, she quaffed her
Red wine and sang with laughter!
And still further a convict song:
I’m a ruined laddie,
Ruined for alway;
While year after year
The days go away.
And also:
Don’t you cry, my Mary,
You’ll belong to me;
When I’ve served the army
I will marry thee.
But here suddenly, to the general amazement, the stout Kitty, usually
taciturn, burst into laughter. She was a native of Odessa.
“Let me sing one song, too. It’s sung by thieves and badger queens in
the drink shops on our Moldavanka and Peresip.”
And in a horrible bass, in a rusty and unyielding voice, she began to
sing, making the most incongruous gestures, but, evidently, imitating
some cabaret cantatrice of the third calibre that she had sometime
seen:
“Ah, I’ll go to Dukovka,
Sit down at the table,
Now I throw my hat off,
Toss it under table.
Then I athk my dearie,
‘What will you drink, sweet?’
But all the answer that she makes:
‘My head aches fit to split.’
‘I ain’t a-athking you
What your ache may be,
But I am a-athking you
What your drink may be:
Will it be beer, or for wine shall I call,
Or for violet wine, or nothing else at all?’”
And all would have turned out well, if suddenly Little White Manka, in
only her chemise and in white lace drawers, had not burst into the
cabinet. Some merchant, who the night before had arranged a
paradisaical night, was carousing with her, and the ill-fated
Benedictine, which always acted upon the girl with the rapidity of
dynamite, had brought her into the usual quarrelsome condition. She was
no longer “Little Manka” and “Little White Manka,” but she was “Manka
the Scandaliste.” Having run into the cabinet, she suddenly, from
unexpectedness, fell down on the floor, and, lying on her back, burst
into such sincere laughter that all the rest burst out laughing as
well. Yes. But this laughter was not prolonged ... Manka suddenly sat
up on the floor and began to shout:
“Hurrah! new wenches have joined our place!”
This was altogether an unexpected thing. The baroness did a still
greater tactlessness. She said:
“I am a patroness of a convent for fallen girls, and therefore, as a
part of my duty, I must gather information about you.”
But here Jennka instantly flared up:
“Get out of here right away, you old fool! You rag! You floor mop! ...
Your Magdalene asylums—they’re worse than a prison. Your secretaries
use us, like dogs carrion. Your fathers, husbands, and brothers come to
us, and we infect them with all sorts of diseases ... Purposely ... And
they in their turn infect you. Your female superintendents live with
the drivers, janitors and policemen, while we are put in a cell if we
happen to laugh or joke a little among ourselves. And so, if you’ve
come here as to a theatre, then you must hear the truth out, straight
to your face.”
But Tamara calmly stopped her:
“Stop, Jennie, I will tell them myself ... Can it be that you really
think, baroness, that we are worse than the so-called respectable
women? A man comes to me, pays me two roubles for a visit or five
roubles for a night, and I don’t in the least conceal this, from any
one in the world ... But tell me, baroness, do you possibly know even
one married lady with a family who isn’t in secret giving herself up
either for the sake of passion to a young man, or for the sake of money
to an old one? I know very well that fifty percent of you are kept by
lovers, while the remaining fifty, of those who are older, keep young
lads. I also know that many—ah, how many!—of you cohabit with your
fathers, brothers, and even sons, but these secrets you hide in some
sort of a hidden casket. And that’s all the difference between us. We
are fallen, but we don’t lie and don’t pretend, but you all fall, and
lie to boot. Think it over for yourself; now—in whose favour is this
difference?”
“Bravo, Tamarochka, that’s the way to serve them!” shouted Manka,
without getting up from the floor; dishevelled, fair, curly, resembling
at this moment a thirteen-year-old girl.
“Now, now!” urged Jennka as well, flashing with her flaming eyes.
“Why not, Jennechka? I’ll go further than that. Out of us scarcely,
scarcely one in a thousand has committed abortion. But all of you
several times over. What? Or isn’t that the truth? And those of you
who’ve done this, did it not out of desperation or cruel poverty, but
you simply were afraid of spoiling your figure and beauty—that’s your
sole capital! Or else you’ve been seeking only beastly carnal pleasure,
while pregnancy and feeding interfered with your giving yourself up to
it!”
Rovinskaya became confused and uttered in a quick whisper:
“Faites attention, baronne, que dans sa position cette demoiselle est
instruite.”[13]
[13] “Pay attention, baroness, the girl is rather educated for one of
her position.”
“Figurez-vous, que moi, j’ai aussi remarque cet etrange visage. Comme
si je l’ai deja vu ... est-ce en reve? ... en demi-delire? Ou dans sa
petite enfance?”[14]
[14] “Just imagine, I, too, have remarked this strange face. But where
have I seen it ... was it in a dream? ... in semi-delirium? Or in her
early infancy?”
“Ne vous donnez pas la peine de chercher dans vos souvenirs, baronne,”
Tamara suddenly interposed insolently. “Je puis de suite vous venir
aide. Rappelez-vous seulement Kharkoff, et la chambre d’hotel de
Koniakine, l’entrepreneur Solovieitschik, et le tenor di grazzia ... A
ce moment vous n’etiez pas encore m-me la baronne de ... [15] However,
let’s drop the French tongue ... You were a common chorus girl and
served together with me.”
[15] “Don’t trouble to strain your memory, baroness. I will come to
your aid at once. Just recall Kharkov, a room in Koniakine’s hotel, the
theatrical manager, Solovieitschik, and a certain lyrical tenor ... At
that time you were not yet baroness de ...”
“Mais, dites-moi, au nom de dieu, comment vous trouvez vous ici,
Mademoiselle Marguerite.”[16]
[16] “But tell me, in God’s name, how you have come to be here,
Mademoiselle Marguerite?”
“Oh, they ask us about that every day. I just up and came to be here
...”
And with an inimitable cynicism she asked:
“I trust you will pay for the time which we have passed with you?”
“No, may the devil take you!” suddenly shouted out Little White Manka,
quickly getting up from the rug.
And suddenly, pulling two gold pieces out of her stocking, she flung
them upon the table.
“There, you! .. I’m giving you that for a cab. Go away right now,
otherwise I’ll break up all the mirrors and bottles here...”
Rovinskaya got up and said with sincere, warm tears in her eyes:
“Of course, we’ll go away, and the lesson of Mlle. Marguerite will
prove of benefit to us. Your time will be paid for—take care of it,
Volodya. Still, you sang so much for us, that you must allow me to sing
for you as well.”
Rovinskaya went up to the piano, took a few chords, and suddenly began
to sing the splendid ballad of Dargomyzhsky:
“We parted then with pride—
Neither with sighs nor words
Proffered I thee reproach of jealousy ...
We went apart for aye,
Yet only if with thee
I might but chance to meet! ..
Ah, that with thee I might but chance to meet!
“I weep not nor complain—
To fate I bend my knee...
I know not, if you loved,
So greatly wronging me?
Yet only if with thee
I might but chance to meet! ...
Ah, that with thee I might but chance to meet!”
This tender and passionate ballad, executed by a great artiste,
suddenly reminded all these women of their first love; of their first
fall; of a late leave-taking at a dawn in the spring, in the chill of
the morning, when the grass is gray from the dew, while the red sky
paints the tips of the birches a rosy colour; of last embraces, so
closely entwined, and of the unerring heart’s mournful whispers: “No,
this will not be repeated, this will not be repeated!” And the lips
were then cold and dry, while the damp mist of the morning lay upon the
hair.
Silence seized Tamara; silence seized Manka the Scandaliste; and
suddenly Jennka, the most untamable of all the girls, ran up to the
artiste, fell down on her knees, and began to sob at her feet.
And Rovinskaya, touched herself, put her arms around her head and said:
“My sister, let me kiss you!”
Jennka whispered something into her ear.
“Why, that’s a silly trifle,” said Rovinskaya. “A few months of
treatment and it will all go away.”
“No, no, no ... I want to make all of them diseased. Let them all rot
and croak.”
“Ah, my dear,” said Rovinskaya, “I would not do that in your place.”
And now Jennka, the proud Jennka began kissing the knees and hands of
the artiste and was saying:
“Then why have people wronged me so? ... Why have they wronged me so?
Why? Why? Why?”
Such is the might of genius!
The only might which takes into its beautiful hands not the abject
reason, but the warm soul of man! The self-respecting Jennka was hiding
her face in Rovinskaya’s dress; Little White Manka was sitting meekly
on a chair, her face covered with a handkerchief; Tamara, with elbow
propped on her knee and head bowed on the palm of her hand, was
intently looking down, while Simeon the porter, who had been looking in
against any emergency, only opened his eyes wide in amazement.
Rovinskaya was quietly whispering into Jennka’s very ear:
“Never despair. Sometimes things fall out so badly that there’s nothing
for it but to hang one’s self—but, just look, to-morrow life has
changed abruptly. My dear, my sister, I am now a world celebrity. But
if you only knew what seas of humiliation and vileness I have had to
wade through! Be well, then, my dear, and believe in your star.”
She bent down to Jennka and kissed her on the forehead. And never
afterwards could Volodya Chaplinsky, who had been watching this scene
with a painful tension, forget those warm and beautiful rays, which at
this moment kindled in the green, long, Egyptian eyes of the artiste.
The party departed gloomily, but Ryazanov lingered behind for a minute.
He walked up to Jennka, respectfully and gently kissed her hand, and
said:
“If possible, forgive our prank ... This, of course, will not be
repeated. But if you ever have need of me, I am always at your service.
Here is my visiting card. Don’t stick it out on your bureau; but
remember, that from this evening on I am your friend.”
And, having kissed Jennka’s hand once more, he was the last to go down
the stairs.