The Greatest Novellas & Short Stories of Anton Chekhov - Anton Chekhov

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must, Poppet! It would be awkward! Don’t make me blush.”

      Half an hour later Natalya was sent for vodka and savouries; Zaikin, after drinking tea and eating a whole French loaf, went to his bedroom and lay down on the bed, while Nadyezhda Stepanovna and her visitors, with much noise and laughter, set to work to rehearse their parts. For a long time Pavel Matveyitch heard Koromyslov’s nasal reciting and Smerkalov’s theatrical exclamations…. The rehearsal was followed by a long conversation, interrupted by the shrill laughter of Olga Kirillovna. Smerkalov, as a real actor, explained the parts with aplomb and heat….

      Then followed the duet, and after the duet there was the clatter of crockery…. Through his drowsiness Zaikin heard them persuading Smerkalov to read “The Woman who was a Sinner,” and heard him, after affecting to refuse, begin to recite. He hissed, beat himself on the breast, wept, laughed in a husky bass…. Zaikin scowled and hid his head under the quilt.

      “It’s a long way for you to go, and it’s dark,” he heard Nadyezhda Stepanovna’s voice an hour later. “Why shouldn’t you stay the night here? Koromyslov can sleep here in the drawing-room on the sofa, and you, Smerkalov, in Petya’s bed…. I can put Petya in my husband’s study…. Do stay, really!”

      At last when the clock was striking two, all was hushed, the bedroom door opened, and Nadyezhda Stepanovna appeared.

      “Pavel, are you asleep?” she whispered.

      “No; why?”

      “Go into your study, darling, and lie on the sofa. I am going to put Olga Kirillovna here, in your bed. Do go, dear! I would put her to sleep in the study, but she is afraid to sleep alone…. Do get up!”

      Zaikin got up, threw on his dressing-gown, and taking his pillow, crept wearily to the study…. Feeling his way to his sofa, he lighted a match, and saw Petya lying on the sofa. The boy was not asleep, and, looking at the match with wide-open eyes:

      “Father, why is it gnats don’t go to sleep at night?” he asked.

      “Because… because… you and I are not wanted…. We have nowhere to sleep even.”

      “Father, and why is it Olga Kirillovna has freckles on her face?”

      “Oh, shut up! I am tired of you.”

      After a moment’s thought, Zaikin dressed and went out into the street for a breath of air…. He looked at the grey morning sky, at the motionless clouds, heard the lazy call of the drowsy corncrake, and began dreaming of the next day, when he would go to town, and coming back from the court would tumble into bed…. Suddenly the figure of a man appeared round the corner.

      “A watchman, no doubt,” thought Zaikin. But going nearer and looking more closely he recognized in the figure the summer visitor in the ginger trousers.

      “You’re not asleep?” he asked.

      “No, I can’t sleep,” sighed Ginger Trousers. “I am enjoying Nature…. A welcome visitor, my wife’s mother, arrived by the night train, you know. She brought with her our nieces… splendid girls! I was delighted to see them, although… it’s very damp! And you, too, are enjoying Nature?”

      “Yes,” grunted Zaikin, “I am enjoying it, too…. Do you know whether there is any sort of tavern or restaurant in the neighbourhood?”

      Ginger Trousers raised his eyes to heaven and meditated profoundly.

       THE CHORUS GIRL [trans. by Marian Fell]

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      ONE day while she was still pretty and young and her voice was sweet, Nikolai Kolpakoff, an admirer of hers, was sitting in a room on the second floor of her cottage. The afternoon was unbearably sultry and hot. Kolpakoff, who had just dined and drunk a whole bottle of vile port, felt thoroughly ill and out of sorts. Both he and she were bored, and were waiting for the heat to abate so that they might go for a stroll.

      Suddenly a bell rang in the hall. Kolpakoff, who was sitting in his slippers without a coat, jumped up and looked at Pasha with a question in his eyes.

      "It is probably the postman or one of the girls," said the singer.

      Kolpakoff was not afraid of the postman or of Pasha's girl friends, but nevertheless he snatched up his coat and disappeared into the next room while Pasha ran to open the door. What was her astonishment when she saw on the threshold, not the postman nor a girl friend, but an unknown woman, beautiful and young ! Her dress was distinguished and she was evidently a lady.

      The stranger was pale and was breathing heavily as if she were out of breath from climbing the stairs.

      "What can I do for you?" Pasha inquired.

      The lady did not reply at once. She took a step forward, looked slowly around the room, and sank into a chair as if her legs had collapsed under her from faintness or fatigue. Her pale lips moved silently, trying to utter words which would not come.

      "Is my husband here?" she asked at last, raising her large eyes with their red and swollen lids to Pasha's face.

      "What husband do you mean?" Pasha whispered, suddenly taking such violent fright that her hands and feet grew as cold as ice. "What husband?" she repeated beginning to tremble.

      "My husband—Nikolai Kolpakoff."

      "N—no, my lady. I don't know your husband."

      A minute passed in silence. The stranger drew her handkerchief several times across her pale lips, and held her breath in an effort to subdue an inward trembling, while Pasha stood before her as motionless as a statue, gazing at her full of uncertainty and fear.

      "So you say he is not here?" asked the lady. Her voice was firm now and a strange smile had twisted her lips.

      "I—I—don't know whom you mean ! "

      "You are a revolting, filthy, vile creature!" muttered the stranger looking at Pasha with hatred and disgust. "Yes, yes, you are revolting. I am glad indeed that an opportunity has come at last for me to tell you this !"

      Pasha felt that she was producing the effect of something indecent and foul on this lady in black, with the angry eyes and the long, slender fingers, and she was ashamed of her fat, red cheeks, the pock-mark on her nose, and the lock of hair on her forehead that would never stay up. She thought that if she were thin and her face were not powdered, and she had not that curl on her forehead, she would not feel so afraid and ashamed standing there before this mysterious, unknown lady.

      "Where is my husband ?" the lady went on. "However it makes no difference to me whether he is here or not, I only want you to know that he has been caught embezzling funds intrusted to him, and that the police are looking for him. He is going to be arrested. Now see what you have done!"

      The lady rose and began to walk up and down in violent agitation. Pasha stared at her; fear rendered her uncomprehending.

      "He will be found to-day and arrested," the lady repeated with a sob full of bitterness and rage. "I know who has brought this horror upon him ! Disgusting, abominable woman ! Horrible, bought creature ! (Here the lady's lips curled and her nose wrinkled with aversion.) I am impotent. Listen to me, you low woman. I am impotent and you are stronger than I, but there is One who will avenge me and my children. God's eyes see all things. He is just. He will call you to account for every tear I have shed, every sleepless night I have passed. The time will come when you will remember me !"

      Once more silence fell. The lady walked to and fro wringing her hands. Pasha continued to watch her dully, uncomprehendingly, dazed with doubt, waiting for her to do something terrible.

      "I don't know what you mean, my lady ! " she suddenly cried, and burst into tears.

      "That's a lie !" screamed the lady, her eyes flashing with

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