The Greatest Novellas & Short Stories of Anton Chekhov. Anton Chekhov
Petrovitch standing on the verandah with his sleeves tucked up, lifted Isabella into the air, then Fanny, and then Liza. When he was lifting Liza it seemed to Groholsky that he pressed her to himself…. Liza too flung one leg over the parapet…. Oh these women! All sphinxes, every one of them!
When Liza returned home from her husband’s villa and went into the bedroom on tip-toe, as though nothing had happened, Groholsky, pale, with hectic flushes on his cheeks, was lying in the attitude of a man at his last gasp and moaning.
On seeing Liza, he sprang out of bed, and began pacing about the bedroom.
“So that’s what you are like, is it?” he shrieked in a high tenor. “So that’s it! Very much obliged to you! It’s revolting, madam! Immoral, in fact! Let me tell you that!”
Liza turned pale, and of course burst into tears. When women feel that they are in the right, they scold and shed tears; when they are conscious of being in fault, they shed tears only.
“On a level with those depraved creatures! It’s… it’s… it’s… lower than any impropriety! Why, do you know what they are? They are kept women! Cocottes! And you a respectable woman go rushing off where they are… And he… He! What does he want? What more does he want of me? I don’t understand it! I have given him half of my property — I have given him more! You know it yourself! I have given him what I have not myself…. I have given him almost all…. And he! I’ve put up with your calling him Vanya, though he has no right whatever to such intimacy. I have put up with your walks, kisses after dinner…. I have put up with everything, but this I will not put up with…. Either he or I! Let him go away, or I go away! I’m not equal to living like this any longer, no! You can see that for yourself!… Either he or I…. Enough! The cup is brimming over…. I have suffered a great deal as it is…. I am going to talk to him at once — this minute! What is he, after all? What has he to be proud of? No, indeed…. He has no reason to think so much of himself…. “
Groholsky said a great many more valiant and stinging things, but did not “go at once”; he felt timid and abashed…. He went to Ivan Petrovitch three days later.
When he went into his apartment, he gaped with astonishment. He was amazed at the wealth and luxury with which Bugrov had surrounded himself. Velvet hangings, fearfully expensive chairs…. One was positively ashamed to step on the carpet. Groholsky had seen many rich men in his day, but he had never seen such frenzied luxury…. And the higgledy-piggledy muddle he saw when, with an inexplicable tremor, he walked into the drawing-room — plates with bits of bread on them were lying about on the grand piano, a glass was standing on a chair, under the table there was a basket with a filthy rag in it…. Nut shells were strewn about in the windows. Bugrov himself was not quite in his usual trim when Groholsky walked in…. With a red face and uncombed locks he was pacing about the room in deshabille, talking to himself, apparently much agitated. Mishutka was sitting on the sofa there in the drawing-room, and was making the air vibrate with a piercing scream.
“It’s awful, Grigory Vassilyevitch!” Bugrov began on seeing Groholsky, “such disorder… such disorder… Please sit down. You must excuse my being in the costume of Adam and Eve…. It’s of no consequence…. Horrible disorderliness! I don’t understand how people can exist here, I don’t understand it! The servants won’t do what they are told, the climate is horrible, everything is expensive…. Stop your noise,” Bugrov shouted, suddenly coming to a halt before Mishutka; “stop it, I tell you! Little beast, won’t you stop it?”
And Bugrov pulled Mishutka’s ear.
“That’s revolting, Ivan Petrovitch,” said Groholsky in a tearful voice. “How can you treat a tiny child like that? You really are…”
“Let him stop yelling then…. Be quiet — I’ll whip you!”
“Don’t cry, Misha darling…. Papa won’t touch you again. Don’t beat him, Ivan Petrovitch; why, he is hardly more than a baby…. There, there…. Would you like a little horse? I’ll send you a little horse…. You really are hard-hearted… .”
Groholsky paused, and then asked:
“And how are your ladies getting on, Ivan Petrovitch?”
“Not at all. I’ve turned them out without ceremony. I might have gone on keeping them, but it’s awkward…. The boy will grow up…. A father’s example…. If I were alone, then it would be a different thing…. Besides, what’s the use of my keeping them? Poof… it’s a regular farce! I talk to them in Russian, and they answer me in French. They don’t understand a thing — you can’t knock anything into their heads.”
“I’ve come to you about something, Ivan Petrovitch, to talk things over…. H’m…. It’s nothing very particular. But just… two or three words…. In reality, I have a favour to ask of you.”
“What’s that?”
“Would you think it possible, Ivan Petrovitch, to go away? We are delighted that you are here; it’s very agreeable for us, but it’s inconvenient, don’t you know…. You will understand me. It’s awkward in a way…. Such indefinite relations, such continual awkwardness in regard to one another…. We must part…. It’s essential in fact. Excuse my saying so, but… you must see for yourself, of course, that in such circumstances to be living side by side leads to… reflections… that is… not to reflections, but there is a certain awkward feeling… .”
“Yes…. That is so, I have thought of it myself. Very good, I will go away.”
“We shall be very grateful to you…. Believe me, Ivan Petrovitch, we shall preserve the most flattering memory of you. The sacrifice which you…”
“Very good…. Only what am I to do with all this? I say, you buy this furniture of mine! What do you say? It’s not expensive, eight thousand… ten…. The furniture, the carriage, the grand piano… .”
“Very good…. I will give you ten thousand… .”
“Well, that is capital! I will set off tomorrow. I shall go to Moscow. It’s impossible to live here. Everything is so dear! Awfully dear! The money fairly flies…. You can’t take a step without spending a thousand! I can’t go on like that. I have a child to bring up…. Well, thank God that you will buy my furniture…. That will be a little more in hand, or I should have been regularly bankrupt… .”
Groholsky got up, took leave of Bugrov, and went home rejoicing. In the evening he sent him ten thousand roubles.
Early next morning Bugrov and Mishutka were already at Feodosia.
III
Several months had passed; spring had come. With spring, fine bright days had come too. Life was not so dull and hateful, and the earth was more fair to look upon…. There was a warm breeze from the sea and the open country…. The earth was covered with fresh grass, fresh leaves were green upon the trees. Nature had sprung into new life, and had put on new array.
It might be thought that new hopes and new desires would surge up in man when everything in nature is renewed, and young and fresh… but it is hard for man to renew life….
Groholsky was still living in the same villa. His hopes and desires, small and unexacting, were still concentrated on the same Liza, on her alone, and on nothing else! As before, he could not take his eyes off her, and gloated over the thought: how happy I am! The poor fellow really did feel awfully happy. Liza sat as before on the verandah, and unaccountably stared with bored eyes at the villa opposite and the trees near it through which there was a peep at the dark blue sea…. As before, she spent her days for the most part in silence, often in tears and from time to time in putting mustard plasters on Groholsky. She might be congratulated on one new sensation, however. There was a worm gnawing at her vitals…. That worm was misery…. She was fearfully miserable, pining for her son, for her old, her cheerful manner of life. Her life in the past had not been particularly cheerful, but still it was livelier than her present existence.