The Greatest Novellas & Short Stories of Anton Chekhov. Anton Chekhov
for the right name.
Suddenly the steward was sent for again.
"Is it Herder?" they asked him. "Hocker? Hyde? Groome?"
"No, no, no," answered Ivan, and, casting up his eyes, he went on thinking aloud.
"Steed—Charger—Horsely—Harness—"
"Papa!" cried a voice from the nursery. "Tracey! Bitter!"
The whole farm was now In an uproar. The impatient, agonized general promised five roubles to any one who would think of the right name, and a perfect mob began to follow Ivan Evceitch about.
"Bayley!" They cried to him. "Trotter! Hackett!"
Evening came at last, and still the name had not been found. The household went to bed without sending the telegram.
The general did not sleep a wink, but walked, groaning, up and down his room. At three o'clock in the morning he went out into the yard and tapped at the steward's window.
"It isn't Gelder, is it?" he asked almost in tears.
"No, not Gelder, your Excellency," answered Ivan, sighing apologetically.
"Perhaps it isn't a horsey name at all? Perhaps it is something entirely different?"
"No, no, upon my word, it's a horsey name, your Excellency, I remember that perfectly."
"What an abominable memory you have, brother! That name is worth more than anything on earth to me now! I'm in agony!"
Next morning the general sent for the dentist again.
"I'll have it out!" he cried. "I can't stand this any longer!"
The dentist came and pulled out the aching tooth. The pain at once subsided, and the general grew quieter. Having done his work and received his fee, the dentist climbed into his gig, and drove away. In the field outside the front gate he met Ivan. The steward was standing by the roadside plunged in thought, with his eyes fixed on the ground at his feet. Judging from the deep wrinkles that furrowed his brow, he was painfully racking his brains over something, and was muttering to himself:
"Dunn—Sadler—Buckle—Coachman—"
"Hello, Ivаn !" cried the doctor driving up. "Won't you sell me a load of hay? I have been buying mine from the peasants lately, but it's no good."
Ivan glared dully at the doctor, smiled vaguely, and without answering a word threw up his arms, and rushed toward the house as if a mad dog were after him.
"I've thought of the name, your Excellency!" he shrieked with delight, bursting into the general's study. "I've thought of it, thanks to the doctor. Hayes! Hayes is the exciseman's name ! Hayes, your Honour ! Send a telegram to Hayes ! "
"Slow-coach!" said the general contemptuously, snapping his fingers at him. "I don't need your horsey name now ! Slow-coach !"
GONE ASTRAY
Translation By Constance Garnett
A COUNTRY village wrapped in the darkness of night. One o’clock strikes from the belfry. Two lawyers, called Kozyavkin and Laev, both in the best of spirits and a little unsteady on their legs, come out of the wood and turn towards the cottages.
“Well, thank God, we’ve arrived,” says Kozyavkin, drawing a deep breath. “Tramping four miles from the station in our condition is a feat. I am fearfully done up! And, as ill-luck would have it, not a fly to be seen.”
“Petya, my dear fellow…. I can’t…. I feel like dying if I’m not in bed in five minutes.”
“In bed! Don’t you think it, my boy! First we’ll have supper and a glass of red wine, and then you can go to bed. Verotchka and I will wake you up…. Ah, my dear fellow, it’s a fine thing to be married! You don’t understand it, you cold-hearted wretch! I shall be home in a minute, worn out and exhausted…. A loving wife will welcome me, give me some tea and something to eat, and repay me for my hard work and my love with such a fond and loving look out of her darling black eyes that I shall forget how tired I am, and forget the burglary and the law courts and the appeal division…. It’s glorious!”
“Yes — I say, I feel as though my legs were dropping off, I can scarcely get along…. I am frightfully thirsty… .”
“Well, here we are at home.”
The friends go up to one of the cottages, and stand still under the nearest window.
“It’s a jolly cottage,” said Kozyavkin. “You will see tomorrow what views we have! There’s no light in the windows. Verotchka must have gone to bed, then; she must have got tired of sitting up. She’s in bed, and must be worrying at my not having turned up.” (He pushes the window with his stick, and it opens.) “Plucky girl! She goes to bed without bolting the window.” (He takes off his cape and flings it with his portfolio in at the window.) “I am hot! Let us strike up a serenade and make her laugh!” (He sings.) “The moon floats in the midnight sky…. Faintly stir the tender breezes…. Faintly rustle in the treetops…. Sing, sing, Alyosha! Verotchka, shall we sing you Schubert’s Serenade?” (He sings.)
His performance is cut short by a sudden fit of coughing. “Tphoo! Verotchka, tell Aksinya to unlock the gate for us!” (A pause.) “Verotchka! don’t be lazy, get up, darling!” (He stands on a stone and looks in at the window.) “Verotchka, my dumpling; Verotchka, my poppet… my little angel, my wife beyond compare, get up and tell Aksinya to unlock the gate for us! You are not asleep, you know. Little wife, we are really so done up and exhausted that we’re not in the mood for jokes. We’ve trudged all the way from the station! Don’t you hear? Ah, hang it all!” (He makes an effort to climb up to the window and falls down.) “You know this isn’t a nice trick to play on a visitor! I see you are just as great a schoolgirl as ever, Vera, you are always up to mischief!”
“Perhaps Vera Stepanovna is asleep,” says Laev.
“She isn’t asleep! I bet she wants me to make an outcry and wake up the whole neighbourhood. I’m beginning to get cross, Vera! Ach, damn it all! Give me a leg up, Alyosha; I’ll get in. You are a naughty girl, nothing but a regular schoolgirl… Give me a hoist.”
Puffing and panting, Laev gives him a leg up, and Kozyavkin climbs in at the window and vanishes into the darkness within.
“Vera!” Laev hears a minute later, “where are you?… D — damnation! Tphoo! I’ve put my hand into something! Tphoo!”
There is a rustling sound, a flapping of wings, and the desperate cackling of a fowl.
“A nice state of things,” Laev hears. “Vera, where on earth did these chickens come from? Why, the devil, there’s no end of them! There’s a basket with a turkey in it…. It pecks, the nasty creature.”
Two hens fly out of the window, and cackling at the top of their voices, flutter down the village street.
“Alyosha, we’ve made a mistake!” says Kozyavkin in a lachrymose voice. “There are a lot of hens here…. I must have mistaken the house. Confound you, you are all over the place, you cursed brutes!”
“Well, then, make haste and come down. Do you hear? I am dying of thirst!”
“In a minute…. I am looking for my cape and portfolio.”
“Light a match.”
“The matches are in the cape…. I was a crazy idiot to get into this place. The cottages are exactly alike; the devil himself couldn’t tell them apart in the dark. Aie, the turkey’s pecked my cheek, nasty creature!”
“Make haste and get out or they’ll think we are stealing the chickens.”