Orlóff and His Wife: Tales of the Barefoot Brigade. Maksim Gorky
not the slightest heed to her words, remained silent, thoughtful and morose. The samovár, which had burned out, drawled a squeaking melody, full of irritating tediousness, an odor of oil-paints, carbolic acid, and stirred-up cesspools floated through the windows from the court-yard. The semi-twilight, the screeching of the samovár, and the smells—everything in the room became densely merged with one another, forming around the Orlóffs a setting which resembled a nightmare, while the dark maw of the oven stared at the husband and wife exactly as though it felt itself called upon to swallow them when a convenient opportunity should present itself. The silence lasted for a long time. Husband and wife nibbled away at their sugar, rattled their crockery, swallowed their tea.[10] Matréna sighed, Grigóry tapped the table with his finger.
[10] By way of economizing, the peasants do not put sugar into their tea, but nibble at it, and thus sweeten their mouths, an inelegant and inconvenient, but highly satisfactory method of operation.—Translator.
"You never saw such cleanliness as they have there!"—he suddenly began, irritably.—"All the attendants, down to the very last one—wear white. The sick people keep getting into the bath all the time. … They give them wine … six bottles and a half! As for the food—the very smell of it would make you feel full-fed. … Care, anxiety. … They treat them in a motherly way..? and all the rest of it. … So they do. Please to understand: you live along upon the earth, and not even one devil would take the trouble to spit on you, much less call in now and then to inquire—what and how and, in general, … what your life is like, that is to say, whether it suits you, or whether it is the right sort for a man? Has he any means of breathing or not? But when you begin to die—they not only do not permit it, but even put themselves to expense. The barracks … wine … six bottles and a half! Haven't people any sense? For the barracks and the wine cost a lot of money. Couldn't that same money be used for improving life … a little every year?"
His wife made no attempt to understand his remarks, it was enough for her to feel that they were new, and thence to deduce, with absolute accuracy, that something new concerning her was also in progress in Grigóry's mind. Convinced of this, she wished to learn, as promptly as possible, how all this concerned her. Fear was mingled with this desire, and hope, and a sort of hostility toward her husband.
"I suppose the people yonder know even more than you do,"—said she, when he had finished, and pursed up her lips in a sceptical way.
Grigóry shrugged his shoulders, cast a furtive glance at her, and then, after a pause, he began in a still more lofty tone:
"Whether they know or not, that's their business. But if I have to die, without having seen any sort of life, I can reason about that. Now see here, I'll tell you this: I don't want any more of this sort of thing—that is to say, I won't consent to sit and wait for the cholera to come and seize hold of me. I won't do it! Piótr Ivánovitch says: 'go ahead, and meet it half way! Fate is against you—but you can oppose it—who'll get the upper hand? It's war! That's all there is to say about it. … ' So, what now? I'm going to enter the barracks as an orderly—and that's the end of it! Understand? I'm going to walk straight into its maw.—You may swallow me, but I'll make a play with my feet! … I shall not earn any the less there … twenty rubles a month for wages, and they may add a gratuity besides. … I may die? … that's so, but I should die sooner here. And again, it's a change in my life. … " and the excited Orlóff banged the table so vehemently with his fist, that all the crockery bounced up and down with a clatter.
Matréna, at the beginning of her husband's speech, had stared at him with an expression of uneasiness, but by the time he had finished, she had screwed up her eyes in a hostile manner.
"Did the student advise you to do that?" she asked staidly.
"I have wits of my own … I can judge,"—for some reason, Grigóry evaded a direct reply.
"Well, and did he advise you to separate from me?"—went on Matréna.
"From you?"—Grigóry was somewhat disconcerted—he had not yet succeeded in thinking out that matter. Of course, one can leave a woman in lodgings, as is generally done, but there are different sorts of women. Matréna, was one of the dangerous sort. One must keep her directly under his eyes. Settling down on this thought, Orlóff went on with a scowl:—"The student … what ails you? You will live here … and I shall be earning wages … ye-es. … "
"Just so,"—said the woman briefly and calmly, and laughed with that very significant and purely feminine smile, which is capable of evoking in a man thoughts of jealousy which pierce his heart.
Orlóff, who was nervous and quick of apprehension, felt this, but, being loath to betray himself, out of self-love, he flung at his wife the curt remark:
"Quack and grunt—make up all your speeches. … " and he pricked up his ears, in anticipation of what she would say.
But she smiled again, with that exasperating smile, and preserved silence.
"Well, how is it to be?" inquired Grigóry, in a lofty tone.
"How is what to be?" said Matréna, indifferently wiping the cups.
"Viper! None of your shiftiness—I'll damage you!" Orlóff boiled up.—"Perhaps I'm going to my death."
"I'm not sending you … don't go. … " interrupted Matréna.
"You'd be glad to send me off, I know!" exclaimed Orlóff ironically.
She made no reply. Her silence enraged him, but he restrained himself from his customary expression of the feelings which such scenes called forth in him. He restrained himself under the influence of a very venomous thought, as it appeared to him, which flashed through his brain. He even gave vent to a malicious smile. "I know you'd like to have me tumble down even to the very depths of hell. Well, we shall see which of us comes off best … yes! I, also, can take such a course—akh, I've no patience with you!"
He sprang up from the table, snatched up his cap from the window-sill, and went off, leaving his wife dissatisfied with her policy, disconcerted by his threats, and with a growing feeling within her of alarm for the future. As she gazed out of the window, she whispered to herself:
"Oh Lord! Queen of Heaven! All-Holy Birth-Giver of God!"
Besieged by a throng of disquieting problems, she remained sitting, for a long time, at the table, endeavoring to foresee what Grigóry would do. Before her stood the cleanly-washed table appurtenances; and on the principal wall of the neighboring house opposite her windows, the setting sun cast a reddish spot; reflected from the white wall, it penetrated into the room, and the edge of the glass sugar-bowl which stood in front of Matréna glittered. She stared at this faint reflection, with contracted brow, until her eyes ached. Then, rising from her chair, she cleared away the dishes and lay down on the bed. She felt disgusted.
Grigóry arrived when it was already entirely dark. From his very footsteps on the stairs she decided that he was in good spirits. He swore at the darkness in the room, called to his wife, approached the bed, and sat down on it. His wife raised herself, and sat beside him.
"Do you know I have something to tell you?"—asked Orlóff, laughing.
"Well, what is it?"
"You are going to take a position also!"
"Where?" she asked, with trembling voice.
"In the same barracks with me!" announced Orlóff triumphantly.
She threw her arms round his neck, and clasping him tightly, kissed him straight on the lips. He had not expected this, and thrust her away. She was pretending … she didn't want to be with him at all, rogue that she was! The viper was pretending, she regarded her husband as a fool. …
"What are you delighted about?"—he asked roughly and suspiciously, conscious of a desire to hurl her to the floor.
"Because I am!" she replied, boldly.
"Pretence!