The Enchanted Wanderer and Other Stories

My aunt began to tell them, and they wrote down: “Servant of God Kapitolina to have womb opened, and servant of God Lary to have faith increased.”

The old folk left this petitionary little note and went home stepping lightly.

At home they said nothing to anyone except Kapochka alone, and then only so that she shouldn’t tell her husband, the faithless painter, but simply live with him as tenderly and harmoniously as possible, and watch to see if he would get closer to faith in Ivan Yakovlevich. But he was a terrible man for cursing and as full of little sayings as a clown from Presnya.³ Everything was jokes and quips with him. He’d come to his father-in-law of an evening: “Let’s go and read the fifty-two-page prayer book,” he’d say, meaning play cards … Or he’d sit down and say: “On condition that we play till the first swoon.”

My aunt simply couldn’t listen to such words. My uncle said to him, “Don’t upset her so: she loves you and has made a promise for you.” He started laughing and said to his mother-in-law:

“Why do you make unwitting promises? Or don’t you know that because of such a promise John the Baptist had his head cut off?⁴ Watch out, there may be some unexpected misfortune in our house.”

This frightened his mother-in-law still more, and every day, in her anxiety, she went running to the madhouse. There they calmed her down—said things were going well: the dear father read their note each day, and what was now written there would soon come true.

And suddenly it did come true, but how it came true I’m reluctant to say.

III

My aunt’s second daughter, Katechka, comes to her, and falls right at her feet, and sobs, and weeps bitterly.

My aunt asks:

“What’s wrong—has someone offended you?”

The girl answers through her tears:

“Dearest mama, I myself don’t know what it is or why … it’s the first and last time it’s happened … Only conceal my sin from papa.”

My aunt looked at her, poked her finger right into her belly, and said:

“Is it here?”

Katechka replies:

“Yes, mama … how did you guess … I myself don’t know why …”

My aunt only gasped and clasped her hands.

“My child,” she says, “don’t even try to find out: it may be that I’m guilty of a mistake, I’ll go at once and find out,” and she flew off at once in a cab to Ivan Yakovlevich.

“Show me the note,” she says, “with our request that the dear father ask the fruit of the womb for the servant of God: how is it written?”

The hangers-on found it on the windowsill and handed it to her.

My aunt looked and nearly went out of her mind. What do you think? It all actually came about through a mistaken prayer, because instead of the servant of God Kapitolina, who was married, there was written the servant of God Katerina, who was still unmarried, a maiden.

The women say:

“Just imagine, what a sin! The names are very similar … but never mind, it can be set right.”

But my aunt thought: “No, nonsense, you can’t set it right now: Katya’s been prayed for,” and she tore the note into little pieces.

IV

The main thing was their fear of telling my uncle. He was the sort of man who was hard to calm down once he got going. Besides, he loved Katya least of all, and his favorite daughter was the youngest, Olenka—it was to her he had promised the most.

My aunt thought and thought and saw that her mind alone could not think over this calamity—she invited her painter son-in-law to a council and revealed everything to him in detail, and then begged:

“Though you have no faith,” she says, “there may be some feeling in you—please take pity on Katya, help me to conceal her maidenly sin.”

The painter suddenly scowled and said sternly:

“Excuse me, please, but first of all, though you’re my wife’s mother, I resent being considered a man of no faith, and, second of all, I don’t understand what can be counted as Katya’s sin here, if Ivan Yakovlevich has been pleading so long for her. I have all a brother’s feelings for Katechka, and I’ll stand up for her, because she’s not to blame for anything here.”

My aunt bit her fingers and wept, saying:

“Well … how not for anything?”

“Of course, not for anything. It’s your wonderworker who made a mess of it, and he’s got to answer for it.”

“How can he answer for it? He’s a righteous man.”

“Well, if he’s righteous, then keep quiet. Send me Katya with three bottles of champagne.”

My aunt asked him to repeat himself:

“What’s that?”

And again he answers:

“With three bottles of champagne—one right now to me in my rooms, and two later, I’ll tell you where, but keep them ready here at home and on ice.”

My aunt looked at him and only shook her head.

“God help you,” she said. “I thought you only had no faith, though you paint holy images, but it turns out you have no feelings at all … That’s why I cannot venerate your icons.”

And he replied: