Fifty-Two Stories

“Rest in peace, humble laborer! Manya, Varya, and all the women who attended the funeral wept sincerely, maybe because they knew that this uninteresting, downtrodden man had never been loved by a single woman. I wanted to say some warm words at my colleague’s grave, but I had been warned that it might displease the headmaster, because he did not like the deceased. Since my wedding, it seems this is the first day that my soul has not felt light…”

After that there were no special events for the whole school year.

Winter was mild, without frosts, with wet snow; on the eve of Theophany,¹⁵ for instance, the wind howled pitifully all night as in autumn and the roofs were dripping, and in the morning, during the blessing of the water, the police did not allow anyone to go to the river, because, they said, the ice was swollen and dark. But, despite the bad weather, Nikitin’s life was as happy as in summer. One extra diversion was even added: he learned to play whist. Only one thing occasionally upset and angered him, and seemed to keep him from being fully happy: this was the cats and dogs that came with the dowry. The rooms always smelled like a zoo, especially in the morning, and nothing could stifle that smell; the cats often fought with the dogs. Wicked Mushka was fed ten times a day, and she still did not acknowledge Nikitin and growled at him:

“Grrr…nya-nya-nya…”

Once during the Great Lent,¹⁶ at midnight, he was coming home from the club, where he had been playing cards. Rain was falling, it was dark and muddy. Nikitin had an unpleasant aftertaste in his soul and could not understand why: was it because he had lost twelve roubles at the club, or because, as they were settling accounts, one of his partners said that Nikitin was rolling in money, apparently alluding to the dowry? He was not sorry about the twelve roubles, and there was nothing offensive in his partner’s words, but all the same it was unpleasant. He did not even feel like going home.

“Pah, how disagreeble!” he said, stopping by a streetlight.

It occurred to him that he was not sorry about the twelve roubles, because they had come to him gratis. If he were a worker, he would know the value of every kopeck and would not have been indifferent to a gain or a loss. And his whole happiness, he went on reasoning, had come to him gratis, for nothing, and was in fact a luxury for him, like medicine for a healthy man; if he, like the vast majority of people, were weighed down by anxiety over a crust of bread, were struggling for existence, if his back and chest ached from work, then supper, a warm, cozy apartment and family happiness would be a necessity, a reward, and the adornment of his life; while now it all had a strange, indefinite significance.

“Pah, how disagreeable!” he repeated, understanding perfectly well that this reasoning itself was already a bad sign.

When he got home, Manya was in bed. She was breathing evenly, smiling, and apparently sleeping with great pleasure. Beside her lay a white cat curled up and purring. While Nikitin was lighting a candle and smoking, Manya woke up and greedily drank a glass of water.

“I ate a lot of marmalade,” she said and laughed. “Were you with our people?” she asked after a pause.

“No, I wasn’t.”

Nikitin already knew that Staff-Captain Polyansky, whom Varya had recently been counting on very much, was being transferred to one of the western provinces and was paying farewell visits, and therefore it was dreary at his father-in-law’s.

“Varya came by this evening,” Manya said, sitting up. “She didn’t say anything, but you could see by her face how hard it is for her, poor thing. I can’t stand Polyansky. Fat, flabby, when he walks or dances, his cheeks flop…Not my ideal. But still I considered him a decent man.”

“Even now I consider him a decent man.”

“And why did he act so badly with Varya?”

“Why badly?” Nikitin asked, beginning to be annoyed by the white cat, who stretched and arched his back. “As far as I know he made no proposals and gave no promises.”

“Then why did he come to the house so often? If you have no intention to marry, don’t come.”