Collected Shorter Fiction, Volume 2

‘Meek or not meek, he’s thought up a thoroughly stupid scheme. He’s got it into his head that he’s going to marry the cook. But I’m not going to start employing married people. That sort of thing doesn’t suit us.’

‘He’s a fool, nothing but a fool. Look what he’s thought up here,’ said the father. ‘You wouldn’t credit it. I’ll tell him straight out he’s got to give up this notion.’

Going into the kitchen, the father sat down at the table to wait for his son. Alyosha was out running errands, and he was panting when he came in.

‘I thought you were a sensible lad. But now what’s this you’ve gone and thought up?’ said the father.

‘I haven’t thought up anything.’

‘What do you mean, you haven’t thought up anything? You’ve decided you want to get married. I’ll marry you off when the time’s right, and I’ll marry you off to the right person, and not to some town slut.’

The father went on talking for some time. Alyosha stood there and sighed. When his father had finished talking, Alyosha smiled.

‘So I’m to give the whole thing up.’

‘That’s right.’

When his father had gone and he was left alone with Ustinya, he said to her (she had been listening behind the door while the father was talking to his son):

‘Our plan wasn’t right, it didn’t work out. Did you hear him? He got real angry; he won’t allow it.’

She said nothing, but burst into tears and buried her face in her apron.

Alyosha made a clicking noise with his tongue.

‘It’s no use going against it. It’s clear we must just give the whole thing up.’

That evening, when the merchant’s wife ordered him to close the shutters, she said to him:

‘Well then, did you listen to your father, and have you given up your silly notions?’

‘Stands to reason I’ve given them up,’ replied Alyosha; and he laughed, then immediately burst into tears.

*

From that time on Alyosha said nothing more to Ustinya about marriage, and he went on living as he had before.

One day in Lent the steward sent him to clear the snow off the roof. He had climbed up on to the roof, and had got it clear and was just starting to pull away the frozen snow from the gutters, when his feet slipped, and he fell off the roof, holding the shovel. Unfortunately he landed not on the snow, but on the iron-covered entrance gate of the yard. Ustinya came running up, as did the master’s daughter.

‘Are you hurt, Alyosha?’

‘I reckon you could say that again. But not to worry.’

He tried to stand up, but could not, and he began to smile. They carried him into the yardman’s lodge. The doctor’s assistant arrived. He examined Alyosha and asked him where it hurt.

‘It hurts all over, but it’s not too bad. But the master’s going to be upset. And they ought to send word to my old man.’

Alyosha lay in bed for two days and nights, and on the third day they sent for the priest.

‘And what if you should be going to die?’ asked Ustinya.

‘What if I am? We don’t go on living for ever, do we? You’ve got to go sometime,’ said Alyosha quickly, in his usual tone of voice. ‘Thank you, Ustinya, for having pity on me. But it was really better that they didn’t let me get married, it wouldn’t have been any good. And now we’re on friendly terms, you and me.’

He accompanied the priest’s prayers only with his hands and in his heart. But in his heart was the knowledge that life here on earth is good if you do what you are told and don’t offend people, and there too it will be good.

He did not say very much. He just asked for something to drink, and as he drank it he looked as if he was surprised at something.

He looked surprised, stretched himself out, and died.

WHAT FOR?A story from the time of the Polish insurrections

I