'Owing to the weakness of my health, I have exposed myself tospirituous beverages, certainly,' replied Kapiton.
'Owing to the weakness of your health!... They let you off too easy,that's what it is; and you've been apprenticed in Petersburg.... Muchyou learned in your apprenticeship! You simply eat your bread inidleness.'
'In that matter, Gavrila Andreitch, there is one to judge me, the LordGod Himself, and no one else. He also knows what manner of man I be inthis world, and whether I eat my bread in idleness. And as concerningyour contention regarding drunkenness, in that matter, too, I am notto blame, but rather a friend; he led me into temptation, but wasdiplomatic and got away, while I....'
'While you were left, like a goose, in the street. Ah, you're adissolute fellow! But that's not the point,' the steward went on,'I've something to tell you. Our lady...' here he paused a minute,'it's our lady's pleasure that you should be married. Do you hear? Sheimagines you may be steadier when you're married. Do you understand?'
'To be sure I do.'
'Well, then. For my part I think it would be better to give you agood hiding. But there--it's her business. Well? are you agreeable?'Kapiton grinned.
'Matrimony is an excellent thing for any one, Gavrila Andreitch; and,as far as I am concerned, I shall be quite agreeable.'
'Very well, then,' replied Gavrila, while he reflected to himself:'there's no denying the man expresses himself very properly. Onlythere's one thing,' he pursued aloud: 'the wife our lady's picked outfor you is an unlucky choice.'
'Why, who is she, permit me to inquire?'
'Tatiana.'
'Tatiana?'
And Kapiton opened his eyes, and moved a little away from the wall.
'Well, what are you in such a taking for?... Isn't she to your taste,hey?'
'Not to my taste, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch! She's right enough, ahard-working steady girl.... But you know very well yourself, GavrilaAndreitch, why that fellow, that wild man of the woods, that monsterof the steppes, he's after her, you know....'
'I know, mate, I know all about it,' the butler cut him short in atone of annoyance: 'but there, you see....'
'But upon my soul, Gavrila Andreitch! why, he'll kill me, by God, hewill, he'll crush me like some fly; why, he's got a fist--why, youkindly look yourself what a fist he's got; why, he's simply got a fistlike Minin Pozharsky's. You see he's deaf, he beats and does not hearhow he's beating! He swings his great fists, as if he's asleep. Andthere's no possibility of pacifying him; and for why? Why, because, asyou know yourself, Gavrila Andreitch, he's deaf, and what's more, hasno more wit than the heel of my foot. Why, he's a sort of beast, aheathen idol, Gavrila Andreitch, and worse ... a block of wood; whathave I done that I should have to suffer from him now? Sure it is,it's all over with me now; I've knocked about, I've had enough to putup with, I've been battered like an earthenware pot, but still I'm aman, after all, and not a worthless pot.'
'I know, I know, don't go talking away....'
'Lord, my God!' the shoemaker continued warmly, 'when is the end?when, O Lord! A poor wretch I am, a poor wretch whose sufferings areendless! What a life, what a life mine's been, come to think of it!In my young days, I was beaten by a German I was 'prentice to; in theprime of life beaten by my own countrymen, and last of all, in ripeyears, see what I have been brought to....'
'Ugh, you flabby soul!' said Gavrila Andreitch. 'Why do you make somany words about it?'
'Why, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch? It's not a beating I'm afraid of,Gavrila Andreitch. A gentleman may chastise me in private, but give mea civil word before folks, and I'm a man still; but see now, whom I'veto do with....'
'Come, get along,' Gavrila interposed impatiently. Kapiton turned awayand staggered off.
'But, if it were not for him,' the steward shouted after him, 'youwould consent for your part?'
'I signify my acquiescence,' retorted Kapiton as he disappeared.
His fine language did not desert him, even in the most tryingpositions.
The steward walked several times up and down the room.
'Well, call Tatiana now,' he said at last.
A few instants later, Tatiana had come up almost noiselessly, and wasstanding in the doorway.
'What are your orders, Gavrila Andreitch?' she said in a soft voice.
The steward looked at her intently.
'Well, Taniusha,' he said, 'would you like to be married? Our lady haschosen a husband for you.'
'Yes, Gavrila Andreitch. And whom has she deigned to name as a husbandfor me?' she added falteringly.
'Kapiton, the shoemaker.'
'Yes, sir.'
'He's a feather-brained fellow, that's certain. But it's just for thatthe mistress reckons upon you.'
'Yes, sir.'
'There's one difficulty ... you know the deaf man, Gerasim, he'scourting you, you see. How did you come to bewitch such a bear? Butyou see, he'll kill you, very like, he's such a bear....'
'He'll kill me, Gavrila Andreitch, he'll kill me, and no mistake.'
'Kill you.... Well, we shall see about that. What do you meanby saying he'll kill you? Has he any right to kill you? tell meyourself.'
'I don't know, Gavrila Andreitch, about his having any right or not.'
'What a woman! why, you've made him no promise, I suppose....'
'What are you pleased to ask of me?'
The steward was silent for a little, thinking, 'You're a meek soul!Well, that's right,' he said aloud; 'we'll have another talk with youlater, now you can go, Taniusha; I see you're not unruly, certainly.'
Tatiana turned, steadied herself a little against the doorpost, andwent away.
'And, perhaps, our lady will forget all about this wedding byto-morrow,' thought the steward; 'and here am I worrying myself fornothing! As for that insolent fellow, we must tie him down, if itcomes to that, we must let the police know' ... 'Ustinya Fyedorovna!'he shouted in a loud voice to his wife, 'heat the samovar, my goodsoul....' All that day Tatiana hardly went out of the laundry. Atfirst she had started crying, then she wiped away her tears, and setto work as before. Kapiton stayed till late at night at the ginshopwith a friend of his, a man of gloomy appearance, to whom he relatedin detail how he used to live in Petersburg with a gentleman, whowould have been all right, except he was a bit too strict, and he hada slight weakness besides, he was too fond of drink; and, as to thefair sex, he didn't stick at anything. His gloomy companion merelysaid yes; but when Kapiton announced at last that, in a certain event,he would have to lay hands on himself to-morrow, his gloomy companionremarked that it was bedtime. And they parted in surly silence.
Meanwhile, the steward's anticipations were not fulfilled. The oldlady was so much taken up with the idea of Kapiton's wedding, thateven in the night she talked of nothing else to one of her companions,who was kept in her house solely to entertain her in case ofsleeplessness, and, like a night cabman, slept in the day. WhenGavrila came to her after morning tea with his report, her firstquestion was: 'And how about our wedding--is it getting on all right?'He replied, of course, that it was getting on first rate, and thatKapiton would appear before her to pay his reverence to her thatday. The old lady was not quite well; she did not give much time tobusiness. The steward went back to his own room, and called a council.The matter certainly called for serious consideration. Tatiana wouldmake no difficulty, of course; but Kapiton had declared in the hearingof all that he had but one head to lose, not two or three.... Gerasimturned rapid sullen looks on every one, would not budge from the stepsof the maids' quarters, and seemed to guess that some mischief wasbeing hatched against him. They met together. Among them was an oldsideboard waiter, nicknamed Uncle Tail, to whom every one lookedrespectfully for counsel, though all they got out of him was, 'Here'sa pretty pass! to be sure, to be sure, to be sure!' As a preliminarymeasure of security, to provide against contingencies, they lockedKapiton up in the lumber-room where the filter was kept; thenconsidered the question with the gravest deliberation, It would, tobe s
ure, be easy to have recourse to force. But Heaven save us! therewould be an uproar, the mistress would be put out--it would be awful!What should they do? They thought and thought, and at last thought outa solution. It had many a time been observed that Gerasim could notbear drunkards.... As he sat at the gates, he would always turn awaywith disgust when some one passed by intoxicated, with unsteady stepsand his cap on one side of his ear. They resolved that Tatiana shouldbe instructed to pretend to be tipsy, and should pass by Gerasimstaggering and reeling about. The poor girl refused for a long whileto agree to this, but they persuaded her at last; she saw, too, thatit was the only possible way of getting rid of her adorer. She wentout. Kapiton was released from the lumber-room; for, after all, hehad an interest in the affair. Gerasim was sitting on the curb-stoneat the gates, scraping the ground with a spade.... From behind everycorner, from behind every window-blind, the others were watchinghim.... The trick succeeded beyond all expectations. On seeingTatiana, at first, he nodded as usual, making caressing, inarticulatesounds; then he looked carefully at her, dropped his spade, jumped up,went up to her, brought his face close to her face.... In her frightshe staggered more than ever, and shut her eyes.... He took her by thearm, whirled her right across the yard, and going into the room wherethe council had been sitting, pushed her straight at Kapiton. Tatianafairly swooned away.... Gerasim stood, looked at her, waved his hand,laughed, and went off, stepping heavily, to his garret.... For thenext twenty-four hours, he did not come out of it. The postillionAntipka said afterwards that he saw Gerasim through a. crack in thewall, sitting on his bedstead, his face in his hand. From time totime he uttered soft regular sounds; he was wailing a dirge, that is,swaying backwards and forwards with his eyes shut, and shaking hishead as drivers or bargemen do when they chant their melancholy songs.Antipka could not bear it, and he came away from the crack. WhenGerasim came out of the garret next day, no particular change could beobserved in him. He only seemed, as it were, more morose, and took notthe slightest notice of Tatiana or Kapiton. The same evening, theyboth had to appear before their mistress with geese under their arms,and in a week's time they were married. Even on the day of the weddingGerasim showed no change of any sort in his behaviour. Only, he cameback from the river without water, he had somehow broken the barrel onthe road; and at night, in the stable, he washed and rubbed down hishorse so vigorously, that it swayed like a blade of grass in the wind,and staggered from one leg to the other under his fists of iron.
All this had taken place in the spring. Another year passed by, duringwhich Kapiton became a hopeless drunkard, and as being absolutely ofno use for anything, was sent away with the store waggons to a distantvillage with his wife. On the day of his departure, he put a very goodface on it at first, and declared that he would always be at home,send him where they would, even to the other end of the world; butlater on he lost heart, began grumbling that he was being taken touneducated people, and collapsed so completely at last that he couldnot even put his own hat on. Some charitable soul stuck it on hisforehead, set the peak straight in front, and thrust it on with a slapfrom above. When everything was quite ready, and the peasants alreadyheld the reins in their hands, and were only waiting for the words'With God's blessing!' to start, Gerasim came out of his garret,went up to Tatiana, and gave her as a parting present a red cottonhandkerchief he had bought for her a year ago. Tatiana, who had up tothat instant borne all the revolting details of her life with greatindifference, could not control herself upon that; she burst intotears, and as she took her seat in the cart, she kissed Gerasim threetimes like a good Christian. He meant to accompany her as far as thetown-barrier, and did walk beside her cart for a while, but he stoppedsuddenly at the Crimean ford, waved his hand, and walked away alongthe riverside.
It was getting towards evening. He walked slowly, watching the water.All of a sudden he fancied something was floundering in the mud closeto the bank. He stooped over, and saw a little white-and-black puppy,who, in spite of all its efforts, could not get out of the water; itwas struggling, slipping back, and trembling all over its thin wetlittle body. Gerasim looked at the unlucky little dog, picked it upwith one hand, put it into the bosom of his coat, and hurried withlong steps homewards. He went into his garret, put the rescued puppyon his bed, covered it with his thick overcoat, ran first to thestable for straw, and then to the kitchen for a cup of milk. Carefullyfolding back the overcoat, and spreading out the straw, he set themilk on the bedstead. The poor little puppy was not more than threeweeks old, its eyes were only just open--one eye still seemed ratherlarger than the other; it did not know how to lap out of a cup, anddid nothing but shiver and blink. Gerasim took hold of its head softlywith two fingers, and dipped its little nose into the milk. Thepup suddenly began lapping greedily, sniffing, shaking itself, andchoking. Gerasim watched and watched it, and all at once he laughedoutright.... All night long he was waiting on it, keeping it covered,and rubbing it dry. He fell asleep himself at last, and slept quietlyand happily by its side.
No mother could have looked after her baby as Gerasim looked afterhis little nursling. At first, she--for the pup turned out to bea bitch--was very weak, feeble, and ugly, but by degrees she grewstronger and improved in looks, and thanks to the unflagging care ofher preserver, in eight months' time she was transformed into a verypretty dog of the spaniel breed, with long ears, a bushy spiral tail,and large expressive eyes. She was devotedly attached to Gerasim, andwas never a yard from his side; she always followed him about waggingher tail. He had even given her a name--the dumb know that theirinarticulate noises call the attention of others. He called her Mumu.All the servants in the house liked her, and called her Mumu, too. Shewas very intelligent, she was friendly with every one, but was onlyfond of Gerasim. Gerasim, on his side, loved her passionately, and hedid not like it when other people stroked her; whether he was afraidfor her, or jealous--God knows! She used to wake him in the morning,pulling at his coat; she used to take the reins in her mouth, andbring him up the old horse that carried the water, with whom she wason very friendly terms. With a face of great importance, she used togo with him to the river; she used to watch his brooms and spades,and never allowed any one to go into his garret. He cut a little holein his door on purpose for her, and she seemed to feel that only inGerasim's garret she was completely mistress and at home; and directlyshe went in, she used to jump with a satisfied air upon the bed.At night she did not sleep at all, but she never barked withoutsufficient cause, like some stupid house-dog, who, sitting on itshind-legs, blinking, with its nose in the air, barks simply fromdulness, at the stars, usually three times in succession. No! Mumu'sdelicate little voice was never raised without good reason eithersome stranger was passing close to the fence, or there was somesuspicious sound or rustle somewhere.... In fact, she was an excellentwatch-dog. It is true that there was another dog in the yard, a tawnyold dog with brown spots, called Wolf, but he was never, even atnight, let off the chain; and, indeed, he was so decrepit that he didnot even wish for freedom. He used to lie curled up in his kennel,and only rarely uttered a sleepy, almost noiseless bark, which brokeoff at once, as though he were himself aware of its uselessness. Mumunever went into the mistress's house; and when Gerasim carried woodinto the rooms, she always stayed behind, impatiently waiting for himat the steps, pricking up her ears and turning her head to right andto left at the slightest creak of the door....
So passed another year. Gerasim went on performing his duties ashouse-porter, and was very well content with his lot, when suddenlyan unexpected incident occurred.... One fine summer day the old ladywas walking up and down the drawing-room with her dependants. She wasin high spirits; she laughed and made jokes. Her servile companionslaughed and joked too, but they did not feel particularly mirthful;the household did not much like it, when their mistress was in alively mood, for, to begin with, she expected from every one promptand complete participation in her merriment, and was furious if anyone showed a face that did not beam with delight, and secondly, theseoutbursts
never lasted long with her, and were usually followed bya sour and gloomy mood. That day she had got up in a lucky hour; atcards she took the four knaves, which means the fulfilment of one'swishes (she used to try her fortune on the cards every morning), andher tea struck her as particularly delicious, for which her maid wasrewarded by words of praise, and by twopence in money. With a sweetsmile on her wrinkled lips, the lady walked about the drawing-room andwent up to the window. A flower-garden had been laid out before thewindow, and in the very middle bed, under a rose-bush, lay Mumu busilygnawing a bone. The lady caught sight of her.
'Mercy on us!' she cried suddenly; 'what dog is that?'
The companion, addressed by the old lady, hesitated, poor thing, inthat wretched state of uneasiness which is common in any person in adependent position who doesn't know very well what significance togive to the exclamation of a superior.
'I d ... d ... don't know,' she faltered: 'I fancy it's the dumb man'sdog.'
'Mercy!' the lady cut her short: 'but it's a charming little dog!order it to be brought in. Has he had it long? How is it I've neverseen it before?... Order it to be brought in.'
The companion flew at once into the hall.
'Boy, boy!' she shouted: 'bring Mumu in at once! She's in theflower-garden.'
'Her name's Mumu then,' observed the lady: 'a very nice name.'
'Oh, very, indeed!' chimed in the companion. 'Make haste, Stepan!'
Stepan, a sturdily-built young fellow, whose duties were those of afootman, rushed headlong into the flower-garden, and tried to captureMumu, but she cleverly slipped from his fingers, and with her tail inthe air, fled full speed to Gerasim, who was at that instant in thekitchen, knocking out and cleaning a barrel, turning it upside downin his hands like a child's drum. Stepan ran after her, and tried tocatch her just at her master's feet; but the sensible dog would notlet a stranger touch her, and with a bound, she got away. Gerasimlooked on with a smile at all this ado; at last, Stepan got up, muchamazed, and hurriedly explained to him by signs that the mistresswanted the dog brought in to her. Gerasim was a little astonished;he called Mumu, however, picked her up, and handed her over toStepan. Stepan carried her into the drawing-room, and put her downon the parquette floor. The old lady began calling the dog to herin a coaxing voice. Mumu, who had never in her life been in suchmagnificent apartments, was very much frightened, and made a rush forthe door, but, being driven back by the obsequious Stepan, she begantrembling, and huddled close up against the wall.