PREFACE.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER I.
SERGEANT
OF THE GUARDS.My
father, Andréj Petróvitch Grineff, after serving in his youth under
Count Münich,[1] had retired in 17—with the rank of senior major.
Since that time he had always lived on his estate in the district of
Simbirsk, where he married Avdotia, the eldest daughter of a poor
gentleman in the neighbourhood. Of the nine children born of this
union I alone survived; all my brothers and sisters died young. I had
been enrolled as sergeant in the Séménofsky regiment by favour of
the major of the Guard, Prince Banojik, our near relation. I was
supposed to be away on leave till my education was finished. At that
time we were brought up in another manner than is usual now.From
five years old I was given over to the care of the huntsman,
Savéliitch,[2] who from his steadiness and sobriety was considered
worthy of becoming my attendant. Thanks to his care, at twelve years
old I could read and write, and was considered a good judge of the
points of a greyhound. At this time, to complete my education, my
father hired a Frenchman, M. Beaupré, who was imported from Moscow
at the same time as the annual provision of wine and Provence oil.
His arrival displeased Savéliitch very much."It
seems to me, thank heaven," murmured he, "the child was
washed, combed, and fed. What was the good of spending money and
hiring a 'moussié,'
as if there were not enough servants in the house?"Beaupré,
in his native country, had been a hairdresser, then a soldier in
Prussia, and then had come to Russia to be "outchitel,"
without very well knowing the meaning of this word.[3] He was a good
creature, but wonderfully absent and hare-brained. His greatest
weakness was a love of the fair sex. Neither, as he said himself, was
he averse to the bottle, that is, as we say in Russia, that his
passion was drink. But, as in our house the wine only appeared at
table, and then only in
liqueur glasses,
and as on these occasions it somehow never came to the turn of the
"outchitel"
to be served at all, my Beaupré soon accustomed himself to the
Russian brandy, and ended by even preferring it to all the wines of
his native country as much better for the stomach. We became great
friends, and though, according to the contract, he had engaged
himself to teach me
French, German, and all the sciences,
he liked better learning of me to chatter Russian indifferently. Each
of us busied himself with our own affairs; our friendship was firm,
and I did not wish for a better mentor. But Fate soon parted us, and
it was through an event which I am going to relate.The
washerwoman, Polashka, a fat girl, pitted with small-pox, and the
one-eyed cow-girl, Akoulka, came one fine day to my mother with such
stories against the "moussié,"
that she, who did not at all like these kind of jokes, in her turn
complained to my father, who, a man of hasty temperament, instantly
sent for that rascal
of a Frenchman. He
was answered humbly that the "moussié"
was giving me a lesson. My father ran to my room. Beaupré was
sleeping on his bed the sleep of the just. As for me, I was absorbed
in a deeply interesting occupation. A map had been procured for me
from Moscow, which hung against the wall without ever being used, and
which had been tempting me for a long time from the size and strength
of its paper. I had at last resolved to make a kite of it, and,
taking advantage of Beaupré's slumbers, I had set to work.My
father came in just at the very moment when I was tying a tail to
theCape of Good
Hope.At
the sight of my geographical studies he boxed my ears sharply, sprang
forward to Beaupré's bed, and, awaking him without any
consideration, he began to assail him with reproaches. In his trouble
and confusion Beaupré vainly strove to rise; the poor "outchitel"
was dead drunk. My father pulled him up by the collar of his coat,
kicked him out of the room, and dismissed him the same day, to the
inexpressible joy of Savéliitch.Thus
was my education finished.I
lived like a stay-at-home son (nédoross'l),[4]
amusing myself by scaring the pigeons on the roofs, and playing
leapfrog with the lads of the courtyard,[5] till I was past the age
of sixteen. But at this age my life underwent a great change.One
autumn day, my mother was making honey jam in her parlour, while,
licking my lips, I was watching the operations, and occasionally
tasting the boiling liquid. My father, seated by the window, had just
opened the Court
Almanack, which he
received every year. He was very fond of this book; he never read it
except with great attention, and it had the power of upsetting his
temper very much. My mother, who knew all his whims and habits by
heart, generally tried to keep the unlucky book hidden, so that
sometimes whole months passed without the
Court Almanack
falling beneath his eye. On the other hand, when he did chance to
find it, he never left it for hours together. He was now reading it,
frequently shrugging his shoulders, and muttering, half aloud—"General!
He was sergeant in my company. Knight of the Orders of Russia!Was
it so long ago that we—"At
last my father threw the
Almanack away from
him on the sofa, and remained deep in a brown study, which never
betokened anything good."Avdotia
Vassiliéva,"[6] said he, sharply addressing my mother, "how
old is Petróusha?"[7]"His
seventeenth year has just begun," replied my mother. "Petróusha
was born the same year our Aunt Anastasia Garasimofna[8] lost an eye,
and that—""All
right," resumed my father; "it is time he should serve.
'Tis time he should cease running in and out of the maids' rooms and
climbing into the dovecote."The
thought of a coming separation made such an impression on my mother
that she dropped her spoon into her saucepan, and her eyes filled
with tears. As for me, it is difficult to express the joy which took
possession of me. The idea of service was mingled in my mind with the
liberty and pleasures offered by the town of Petersburg. I already
saw myself officer of the Guard, which was, in my opinion, the height
of human happiness.My
father neither liked to change his plans, nor to defer the execution
of them. The day of my departure was at once fixed. The evening
before my father told me that he was going to give me a letter for my
future superior officer, and bid me bring him pen and paper."Don't
forget, Andréj Petróvitch," said my mother, "to remember
me toPrince
Banojik; tell him I hope he will do all he can for my Petróusha.""What
nonsense!" cried my father, frowning. "Why do you wish me
to write to Prince Banojik?""But
you have just told us you are good enough to write to Petróusha's
superior officer.""Well,
what of that?""But
Prince Banojik is Petróusha's superior officer. You know very well
he is on the roll of the Séménofsky regiment.""On
the roll! What is it to me whether he be on the roll or no? Petróusha
shall not go to Petersburg! What would he learn there? To spend money
and commit follies. No, he shall serve with the army, he shall smell
powder, he shall become a soldier and not an idler of the Guard, he
shall wear out the straps of his knapsack. Where is his commission?
Give it to me."My
mother went to find my commission, which she kept in a box with my
christening clothes, and gave it to my father with, a trembling hand.
My father read it with attention, laid it before him on the table,
and began his letter.Curiosity
pricked me."Where
shall I be sent," thought I, "if not to Petersburg?"I
never took my eyes off my father's pen as it travelled slowly over
the paper. At last he finished his letter, put it with my commission
into the same cover, took off his spectacles, called me, and said—"This
letter is addressed to Andréj Karlovitch R., my old friend and
comrade. You are to go to Orenburg[9] to serve under him."All
my brilliant expectations and high hopes vanished. Instead of the gay
and lively life of Petersburg, I was doomed to a dull life in a far
and wild country. Military service, which a moment before I thought
would be delightful, now seemed horrible to me. But there was nothing
for it but resignation. On the morning of the following day a
travelling kibitka
stood before the hall door. There were packed in it a trunk and a box
containing a tea service, and some napkins tied up full of rolls and
little cakes, the last I should get of home pampering.My
parents gave me their blessing, and my father said to me—"Good-bye,
Petr'; serve faithfully he to whom you have sworn fidelity; obey your
superiors; do not seek for favours; do not struggle after active
service, but do not refuse it either, and remember the proverb, 'Take
care of your coat while it is new, and of your honour while it is
young.'"My
mother tearfully begged me not to neglect my health, and bade
Savéliitch take great care of the darling. I was dressed in a short
"touloup"[10]
of hareskin, and over it a thick pelisse of foxskin. I seated myself
in the kibitka
with Savéliitch, and started for my destination, crying bitterly.I
arrived at Simbirsk during the night, where I was to stay twenty-four
hours, that Savéliitch might do sundry commissions entrusted to him.
I remained at an inn, while Savéliitch went out to get what he
wanted. Tired of looking out at the windows upon a dirty lane, I
began wandering about the rooms of the inn. I went into the billiard
room. I found there a tall gentleman, about forty years of age, with
long, black moustachios, in a dressing-gown, a cue in his hand, and a
pipe in his mouth. He was playing with the marker, who was to have a
glass of brandy if he won, and, if he lost, was to crawl under the
table on all fours. I stayed to watch them; the longer their games
lasted, the more frequent became the all-fours performance, till at
last the marker remained entirely under the table. The gentleman
addressed to him some strong remarks, as a funeral sermon, and
proposed that I should play a game with him. I replied that I did not
know how to play billiards. Probably it seemed to him very odd. He
looked at me with a sort of pity. Nevertheless, he continued talking
to me. I learnt that his name was Iván Ivánovitch[11] Zourine, that
he commanded a troop in the ——th Hussars, that he was recruiting
just now at Simbirsk, and that he had established himself at the same
inn as myself. Zourine asked me to lunch with him, soldier fashion,
and, as we say, on what Heaven provides. I accepted with pleasure; we
sat down to table; Zourine drank a great deal, and pressed me to
drink, telling me I must get accustomed to the service. He told good
stories, which made me roar with laughter, and we got up from table
the best of friends. Then he proposed to teach me billiards."It
is," said he, "a necessity for soldiers like us. Suppose,
for instance, you come to a little town; what are you to do? One
cannot always find a Jew to afford one sport. In short, you must go
to the inn and play billiards, and to play you must know how to
play."These
reasons completely convinced me, and with great ardour I began taking
my lesson. Zourine encouraged me loudly; he was surprised at my rapid
progress, and after a few lessons he proposed that we should play for
money, were it only for a "groch"
(two kopeks),[12] not for the profit, but that we might not play for
nothing, which, according to him, was a very bad habit.I
agreed to this, and Zourine called for punch; then he advised me to
taste it, always repeating that I must get accustomed to the service."And
what," said he, "would the service be without punch?"I
followed his advice. We continued playing, and the more I sipped my
glass, the bolder I became. My balls flew beyond the cushions. I got
angry; I was impertinent to the marker who scored for us. I raised
the stake; in short, I behaved like a little boy just set free from
school. Thus the time passed very quickly. At last Zourine glanced at
the clock, put down his cue, and told me I had lost a hundred
roubles.[13] This disconcerted me very much; my money was in the
hands of Savéliitch. I was beginning to mumble excuses, when Zourine
said—"But
don't trouble yourself; I can wait, and now let us go
toArinúshka's."What
could you expect? I finished my day as foolishly as I had begun it.
We supped with this Arinúshka. Zourine always filled up my glass,
repeating that I must get accustomed to the service.Upon
leaving the table I could scarcely stand. At midnight Zourine took me
back to the inn.Savéliitch
came to meet us at the door."What
has befallen you?" he said to me in a melancholy voice, when he
saw the undoubted signs of my zeal for the service. "Where did
you thus swill yourself? Oh! good heavens! such a misfortune never
happened before.""Hold
your tongue, old owl," I replied, stammering; "I am sure
you are drunk. Go to bed, … but first help me to bed."The
next day I awoke with a bad headache. I only remembered confusedly
the occurrences of the past evening. My meditations were broken by
Savéliitch, who came into my room with a cup of tea."You
begin early making free, Petr' Andréjïtch," he said to me,
shaking his head. "Well, where do you get it from? It seems to
me that neither your father nor your grandfather were drunkards. We
needn't talk of your mother; she has never touched a drop of anything
since she was born, except 'kvass.'[14]
So whose fault is it? Whose but the confounded 'moussié;'
he taught you fine things, that son of a dog, and well worth the
trouble of taking a Pagan for your servant, as if our master had not
had enough servants of his own!"I
was ashamed. I turned round and said to him—"Go
away, Savéliitch; I don't want any tea."But
it was impossible to quiet Savéliitch when once he had begun to
sermonize."Do
you see now, Petr' Andréjïtch," said he, "what it is to
commit follies? You have a headache; you won't take anything. A man
who gets drunk is good for nothing. Do take a little pickled cucumber
with honey or half a glass of brandy to sober you. What do you
think?"At
this moment a little boy came in, who brought me a note from
Zourine.I unfolded
it and read as follows:—"DEAR
PETR' ANDRÉJÏTCH,"Oblige
me by sending by bearer the hundred roubles you lost to me yesterday.
I want money dreadfully."Your
devoted"IVÁN
ZOURINE."There
was nothing for it. I assumed a look of indifference, and, addressing
myself to Savéliitch, I bid him hand over a hundred roubles to the
little boy."What—why?"
he asked me in great surprise."I
owe them to him," I answered as coldly as possible."You
owe them to him!" retorted Savéliitch, whose surprise became
greater. "When had you the time to run up such a debt? It is
impossible. Do what you please, excellency, but I will not give this
money."I
then considered that, if in this decisive moment I did not oblige
this obstinate old man to obey me, it would be difficult for me in
future to free myself from his tutelage. Glancing at him haughtily, I
said to him—"I
am your master; you are my servant. The money is mine; I lost it
because I chose to lose it. I advise you not to be headstrong, and to
obey your orders."My
words made such an impression on Savéliitch that he clasped his
hands and remained dumb and motionless."What
are you standing there for like a stock?" I exclaimed, angrily.Savéliitch
began to weep."Oh!
my father, Petr' Andréjïtch," sobbed he, in a trembling voice;
"do not make me die of sorrow. Oh! my light, hearken to me who
am old; write to this robber that you were only joking, that we never
had so much money. A hundred roubles! Good heavens! Tell him your
parents have strictly forbidden you to play for anything but nuts.""Will
you hold your tongue?" said I, hastily, interrupting him. "Hand
over the money, or I will kick you out of the place."Savéliitch
looked at me with a deep expression of sorrow, and went to fetch my
money. I was sorry for the poor old man, but I wished to assert
myself, and prove that I was not a child. Zourine got his hundred
roubles.Savéliitch
was in haste to get me away from this unlucky inn; he came in telling
me the horses were harnessed. I left Simbirsk with an uneasy
conscience, and with some silent remorse, without taking leave of my
instructor, whom I little thought I should ever see again.
CHAPTER II.
THE GUIDE.
My reflections during the
journey were not very pleasant. According to the value of money at
that time, my loss was of some importance. I could not but confess
to myself that my conduct at the Simbirsk Inn had been most
foolish, and I felt guilty toward Savéliitch. All this worried me.
The old man sat, in sulky silence, in the forepart of the sledge,
with his face averted, every now and then giving a cross little
cough. I had firmly resolved to make peace with him, but I did not
know how to begin. At last I said to him—
"Look here, Savéliitch, let
us have done with all this; let us make peace."
"Oh! my little father, Petr'
Andréjïtch," he replied, with a deep sigh, "I am angry with myself;
it is I who am to blame for everything. What possessed me to leave
you alone in the inn? But what could I do; the devil would have it
so, else why did it occur to me to go and see my gossip the
deacon's wife, and thus it happened, as the proverb says, 'I left
the house and was taken to prison.' What ill-luck! What ill-luck!
How shall I appear again before my master and mistress? What will
they say when they hear that their child is a drunkard and a
gamester?"
To comfort poor Savéliitch,
I gave him my word of honour that in future I would not spend a
single kopek without his consent. Gradually he calmed down, though
he still grumbled from time to time, shaking his head—
"A hundred roubles, it is
easy to talk!"
I was approaching my
destination. Around me stretched a wild and dreary desert,
intersected by little hills and deep ravines. All was covered with
snow. The sun was setting. Mykibitkawas following the narrow road, or rather the track, left by
the sledges of the peasants. All at once my driver looked round,
and addressing himself to me—
"Sir," said he, taking off
his cap, "will you not order me to turn back?"
"Why?"
"The weather is uncertain.
There is already a little wind. Do you not see how it is blowing
about the surface snow."
"Well, what does that
matter?"
"And do you see what there
is yonder?"
The driver pointed east with
his whip.
"I see nothing more than the
white steppe and the clear sky."
"There, there; look, that
little cloud!"
I did, in fact, perceive on
the horizon a little white cloud which I had at first taken for a
distant hill. My driver explained to me that this little cloud
portended a "bourane."[15] I
had heard of the snowstorms peculiar to these regions, and I knew
of whole caravans having been sometimes buried in the tremendous
drifts of snow. Savéliitch was of the same opinion as the driver,
and advised me to turn back, but the wind did not seem to me very
violent, and hoping to reach in time the next posting station, I
bid him try and get on quickly. He put his horses to a gallop,
continually looking, however, towards the east. But the wind
increased in force, the little cloud rose rapidly, became larger
and thicker, at last covering the whole sky. The snow began to fall
lightly at first, but soon in large flakes. The wind whistled and
howled; in a moment the grey sky was lost in the whirlwind of snow
which the wind raised from the earth, hiding everything around
us.
"How unlucky we are,
excellency," cried the driver; "it is thebourane."
I put my head out of
thekibitka; all was darkness
and confusion. The wind blew with such ferocity that it was
difficult not to think it an animated being.
The snow drifted round and
covered us. The horses went at a walk, and soon stopped
altogether.
"Why don't you go on?" I
said, impatiently, to the driver.
"But where to?" he replied,
getting out of the sledge. "Heaven only knows where we are now.
There is no longer any road, and it is all dark."
I began to scold him, but
Savéliitch took his part.
"Why did you not listen to
him?" he said to me, angrily. "You would have gone back to the
post-house; you would have had some tea; you could have slept till
morning; the storm would have blown over, and we should have
started. And why such haste? Had it been to get married,
now!"
Savéliitch was right. What
was there to do? The snow continued to fall—a heap was rising
around thekibitka. The horses
stood motionless, hanging their heads and shivering from time to
time.
The driver walked round
them, settling their harness, as if he had nothing else to do.
Savéliitch grumbled. I was looking all round in hopes of perceiving
some indication of a house or a road; but I could not see anything
but the confused whirling of the snowstorm.
All at once I thought I
distinguished something black.
"Hullo, driver!" I
exclaimed, "what is that black thing over there?"
The driver looked
attentively in the direction I was pointing out.
"Heaven only knows,
excellency," replied he, resuming his seat.
"It is not a sledge, it is
not a tree, and it seems to me that it moves.It must be a wolf or a man."
I ordered him to move
towards the unknown object, which came also to meet us. In two
minutes I saw it was a man, and we met.
"Hey, there, good man," the
driver hailed him, "tell us, do you happen to know the
road?"
"This is the road," replied
the traveller. "I am on firm ground; but what the devil good does
that do you?"
[...]
