name;--while Alexyei Sergyeitch scowled intentionally, again menaced his wife with his little finger and said, "Trust not a horse in the meadow, a wife in the house! Okh, that Kapitonushka, Kupidonushka!"--Then Malanya Pavlovna bristled up all over and exclaimed:

"Alexis, shame on you, Alexis!--You yourself probably flirted with divers little ladies in your youth--and so you take it for granted...."

"Come, that will do, that will do, Malaniushka," Alexyei Sergyeitch interrupted her, with a smile;--"thy gown is white, and thy soul is whiter still!"

"It is whiter, Alexis; it is whiter!"

"Okh, what a naughty little tongue, on my honour, what a naughty little tongue!" repeated Alexyei Sergyeitch, tapping her on the cheek.

To mention Malanya Pavlovna's "convictions" would be still more out of place than to mention those of Alexyei Sergyeitch; but I once chanced to be the witness of a strange manifestation of my aunt's hidden feelings.

I once chanced, in the course of conversation, to mention the well-known Sheshkovsky.[44] Malanya Pavlovna suddenly became livid in the face,--as livid as a corpse,--turned green, despite the layer of paint and powder, and in a dull, entirely-genuine voice (which very rarely happened with her--as a general thing she seemed always somewhat affected, a.s.sumed an artificial tone and lisped) said: "Okh! whom hast thou mentioned! And at nightfall, into the bargain!--Don't utter that name!" I was amazed; what significance could that name possess for such an inoffensive and innocent being, who would not have known how to devise, much less to execute, anything reprehensible?--This alarm, which revealed itself after a lapse of nearly half a century, induced in me reflections which were not altogether cheerful.

Alexyei Sergyeitch died in his eighty-eighth year, in the year 1848, which evidently disturbed even him. And his death was rather strange.

That morning he had felt well, although he no longer quitted his arm-chair at all. But suddenly he called to his wife: "Malaniushka, come hither!"

"What dost thou want, Alexis?"

"It is time for me to die, that's what, my darling."

"G.o.d be with you, Alexyei Sergyeitch! Why so?"

"This is why. In the first place, one must show moderation; and more than that; I was looking at my legs a little while ago ... they were strange legs--and that settles it!--I looked at my hands---and those were strange also! I looked at my belly--and the belly belonged to some one else!--Which signifies that I am devouring some other person's life.[45] Send for the priest; and in the meanwhile, lay me on my bed, from which I shall not rise again."

Malanya Pavlovna was in utter consternation, but she put the old man to bed, and sent for the priest. Alexyei Sergyeitch made his confession, received the holy communion, took leave of the members of his household, and began to sink into a stupor. Malanya Pavlovna was sitting beside his bed.

"Alexis!" she suddenly shrieked, "do not frighten me, do not close thy dear eyes! Hast thou any pain?"

The old man looked at his wife.--"No, I have no pain ... but I find it ... rather difficult ... difficult to breathe." Then, after a brief pause:--"Malaniushka," he said, "now life has galloped past--but dost thou remember our wedding ... what a fine young couple we were?"

"We were, my beauty, Alexis my incomparable one!"

Again the old man remained silent for a s.p.a.ce.

"And shall we meet again in the other world, Malaniushka?"

"I shall pray to G.o.d that we may, Alexis."--And the old woman burst into tears.

"Come, don't cry, silly one; perchance the Lord G.o.d will make us young again there--and we shall again be a fine young pair!"

"He will make us young, Alexis!"

"Everything is possible to Him, to the Lord," remarked Alexyei Sergyeitch.--"He is a worker of wonders!--I presume He will make thee a clever woman also.... Come, my dear, I was jesting; give me thy hand to kiss."

"And I will kiss thine."

And the two old people kissed each other's hands.

Alexyei Sergyeitch began to quiet down and sink into a comatose state.

Malanya Pavlovna gazed at him with emotion, brushing the tears from her eyelashes with the tip of her finger. She sat thus for a couple of hours.

"Has he fallen asleep?" asked in a whisper the old woman who knew how to pray so tastily, peering out from behind Irinarkh, who was standing as motionless as a pillar at the door, and staring intently at his dying master.

"Yes," replied Malanya Pavlovna, also in a whisper. And suddenly Alexyei Sergyeitch opened his eyes.

"My faithful companion," he stammered, "my respected spouse, I would like to bow myself to thy feet for all thy love and faithfulness--but how am I to rise? Let me at least sign thee with the cross."

Malanya Pavlovna drew nearer, bent over.... But the hand which had been raised fell back powerless on the coverlet, and a few moments later Alexyei Sergyeitch ceased to be.

His daughters with their husbands only arrived in time for the funeral; neither one of them had any children. Alexyei Sergyeitch had not discriminated against them in his will, although he had not referred to them on his death-bed.

"My heart is locked against them," he had said to me one day. Knowing his kind-heartedness, I was surprised at his words.--It is a difficult matter to judge between parents and children.--"A vast ravine begins with a tiny rift," Alexyei Sergyeitch had said to me on another occasion, referring to the same subject. "A wound an arshin long will heal over, but if you cut off so much as a nail, it will not grow again!"

I have an idea that the daughters were ashamed of their eccentric old folks.

A month later Malanya Pavlovna expired also. She hardly rose from her bed again after the day of Alexyei Sergyeitch's death, and did not array herself; but they buried her in the blue jacket, and with the medal of Orloff on her shoulder, only minus the diamonds. The daughters shared those between them, under the pretext that those diamonds were to be used for the setting of holy pictures; but as a matter of fact they used them to adorn their own persons.

And now how vividly do my old people stand before me, and what a good memory I cherish of them! And yet, during my very last visit to them (I was already a student at the time) an incident occurred which injected some discord into the harmoniously-patriarchal mood with which the Telyegin house inspired me.

Among the number of the household serfs was a certain Ivan, nicknamed "Sukhikh--the coachman, or the little coachman, as he was called, on account of his small size, in spite of his years, which were not few. He was a tiny sc.r.a.p of a man, nimble, snub-nosed, curly-haired, with a perennial smile on his infantile countenance, and little, mouse-like eyes. He was a great joker and buffoon; he was able to acquire any trick; he set off fireworks, snakes, played all card-games, galloped his horse while standing erect on it, flew higher than any one else in the swing, and even knew how to present Chinese shadows. There was no one who could amuse children better than he, and he would have been only too glad to occupy himself with them all day long. When he got to laughing he set the whole house astir. People would answer him from this point and that--every one would join in.... They would both abuse him and laugh.--Ivan danced marvellously--especially 'the fish.'--The chorus would thunder out a dance tune, the young fellow would step into the middle of the circle, and begin to leap and twist about and stamp his feet, and then come down with a crash on the ground--and there represent the movements of a fish which has been thrown out of the water upon the dry land; and he would writhe about this way and that, and even bring his heels up to his neck; and then, when he sprang to his feet and began to shout, the earth would simply tremble beneath him! Alexyei Sergyeitch was extremely fond of choral songs and dances, as I have already said; he could never refrain from shouting: 'Send hither Vaniushka! the little coachman! Give us 'the fish,' be lively!'--and a minute later he would whisper in ecstasy: 'Akh, what a devil of a man he is!'"

Well, then,--on my last visit this same Ivan Sukhikh comes to me in my room, and without uttering a word plumps down on his knees.

"What is the matter with thee, Ivan?"

"Save me, master!"

"Why, what's the trouble?"

And thereupon Ivan related to me his grief.

He had been swapped twenty years previously by the Messrs. Sukhoy for another serf, a man belonging to the Telyegins--he had simply been exchanged, without any formalities and doc.u.ments. The man who had been given in exchange for him had died, but the Messrs. Sukhoy had forgotten all about Ivan and had left him in Alexyei Sergyeitch's house as his property; his nickname alone served as a reminder of his origin.[46]--But lo and behold! his former owners had died also, their estate had fallen into other hands, and the new owner, concerning whom rumours were in circulation to the effect that he was a cruel man, a torturer, having learned that one of his serfs was to be found at Alexyei Sergyeitch's without any pa.s.sport and right, began to demand his return; in case of refusal he threatened to have recourse to the courts and a penalty--and he did not threaten idly, as he himself held the rank of Privy Councillor,[47] and had great weight in the government.[48]

Ivan, in his affright, darted to Alexyei Sergyeitch. The old man was sorry for his dancer, and he offered to buy Ivan from the privy councillor at a good price; but the privy councillor would not hear of such a thing; he was a Little Russian and obstinate as the devil. The poor fellow had to be surrendered.

"I have got used to living here, I have made myself at home here, I have eaten bread here, and here I wish to die," Ivan said to me--and there was no grin on his face now; on the contrary, he seemed turned into stone.... "But now I must go to that malefactor.... Am I a dog that I am to be driven from one kennel to another with a slip-noose round my neck--and a 'take that'? Save me, master; entreat your uncle,--remember how I have always amused you.... Or something bad will surely come of it; the matter will not pa.s.s off without sin."

"Without what sin, Ivan?"

"Why, I will kill that gentleman.--When I arrive I shall say to him: 'Let me go back, master; otherwise, look out, beware.... I will kill you.'"

If a chaffinch or a bullfinch could talk and had begun to a.s.sure me that it would claw another bird, it would not have caused me greater astonishment than did Ivan on that occasion.--What! Vanya Sukhikh, that dancer, jester, buffoon, that favourite of the children, and a child himself--that kindest-hearted of beings--a murderer! What nonsense! I did not believe him for a single moment. I was startled in the extreme that he should have been able to utter such a word! Nevertheless, I betook myself to Alexyei Sergyeitch. I did not repeat to him what Ivan had said to me, but I tried in every way to beg him to see whether he could not set the matter right.

"My little sir," the old man replied to me, "I would be only too delighted, but how can I?--I have offered that Topknot[49] huge remuneration. I offered him three hundred rubles, I a.s.sure thee on my honour! but in vain. What is one to do? We had acted illegally, on faith, after the ancient fashion ... and now see what a bad thing has come of it! I am sure that Topknot will take Ivan from me by force the first thing we know; he has a strong hand, the Governor eats sour cabbage-soup with him--the Topknot will send a soldier! I'm afraid of those soldiers! In former days, there's no denying it, I would have defended Ivan,--but just look at me now, how decrepit I have grown. How am I to wage war?"--And, in fact, during my last visit I found that Alexyei Sergyeitch had aged very greatly; even the pupils of his eyes had acquired a milky hue--like that in infants--and on his lips there appeared not the discerning smile of former days, but that strainedly-sweet, unconscious smirk which never leaves the faces of very old people even in their sleep.

I imparted Alexyei Sergyeitch's decision to Ivan. He stood a while, held his peace, and shook his head.--"Well," he said at last, "what is fated to be cannot be avoided. Only my word is firm. That is to say: only one thing remains for me ... play the wag to the end.--Master, please give me something for liquor!" I gave it; he drank himself drunk--and on that same day he danced "the fish" in such wise that the maidens and married women fairly squealed with delight, so whimsically amusing was he.

The next day I went home, and three months later--when I was already in Petersburg--I learned that Ivan had actually kept his word!--He had been sent to his new master; his master had summoned him to his study and announced to him that he was to serve as his coachman, that he entrusted him with a troika of Vyatka horses,[50] and that he should exact a strict account from him if he treated them badly, and, in general, if he were not punctual.--"I'm not fond of jesting," he said.--Ivan listened to his master, first made obeisance to his very feet, and then informed him that it was as his mercy liked, but he could not be his servant.--"Release me on quit-rent, Your High-Born," he said, "or make a soldier of me; otherwise there will be a catastrophe before long."

The master flared up.--"Akh, d.a.m.n thee! What is this thou darest to say to me?--Know, in the first place, that I am 'Your Excellency,' and not 'Your High-Born'; in the second place, thou art beyond the age, and thy size is not such that I can hand thee over as a soldier; and, in conclusion,--what calamity art thou threatening me with? Art thou preparing to commit arson?"