Short Stories by Chekhov
"We listened and listened, and suddenly the same idea dawned upon us
all:
"'It would be a good thing to make a match of it,' the headmaster's wife
said to me softly.
"We all for some reason recalled the fact that our friend Byelikov was
not married, and it now seemed to us strange that we had hitherto failed
to observe, and had in fact completely lost sight of, a detail so
important in his life. What was his attitude to woman? How had he
settled this vital question for himself? This had not interested us in
the least till then; perhaps we had not even admitted the idea that a
man who went out in all weathers in goloshes and slept under curtains
could be in love.
"'He is a good deal over forty and she is thirty,' the headmaster's wife
went on, developing her idea. 'I believe she would marry him.'
"All sorts of things are done in the provinces through boredom, all
sorts of unnecessary and nonsensical things! And that is because what is
necessary is not done at all. What need was there for instance, for us
to make a match for this Byelikov, whom one could not even imagine
married? The headmaster's wife, the inspector's wife, and all our high-
school ladies, grew livelier and even better-looking, as though they had
suddenly found a new object in life. The headmaster's wife would take a
box at the theatre, and we beheld sitting in her box Varinka, with such
a fan, beaming and happy, and beside her Byelikov, a little bent figure,
looking as though he had been extracted from his house by pincers. I
would give an evening party, and the ladies would insist on my inviting
Byelikov and Varinka. In short, the machine was set in motion. It
appeared that Varinka was not averse to matrimony. She had not a very
cheerful life with her brother; they could do nothing but quarrel and
scold one another from morning till night. Here is a scene, for
instance. Kovalenko would be coming along the street, a tall, sturdy
young ruffian, in an embroidered shirt, his love-locks falling on his
forehead under his cap, in one hand a bundle of books, in the other a
thick knotted stick, followed by his sister, also with books in her
hand.
"'But you haven't read it, Mihalik!' she would be arguing loudly. 'I
tell you, I swear you have not read it at all!'
"'And I tell you I have read it,' cries Kovalenko, thumping his stick on
the pavement.
"'Oh, my goodness, Mihalik! why are you so cross? We are arguing about
principles.'
"'I tell you that I have read it!' Kovalenko would shout, more loudly
than ever.
"And at home, if there was an outsider present, there was sure to be a
skirmish. Such a life must have been wearisome, and of course she must
have longed for a home of her own. Besides, there was her age to be
considered; there was no time left to pick and choose; it was a case of
marrying anybody, even a Greek master. And, indeed, most of our young
ladies don't mind whom they marry so long as they do get married.
However that may be, Varinka began to show an unmistakable partiality
for Byelikov.
"And Byelikov? He used to visit Kovalenko just as he did us. He would
arrive, sit down, and remain silent. He would sit quiet, and Varinka
would sing to him 'The Winds do Blow,' or would look pensively at him
with her dark eyes, or would suddenly go off into a peal--'Ha-ha-ha!'
"Suggestion plays a great part in love affairs, and still more in
getting married. Everybody--both his colleagues and the ladies--began
assuring Byelikov that he ought to get married, that there was nothing
left for him in life but to get married; we all congratulated him, with
solemn countenances delivered ourselves of various platitudes, such as
'Marriage is a serious step.' Besides, Varinka was good-looking and
interesting; she was the daughter of a civil councillor, and had a farm;
and what was more, she was the first woman who had been warm and
friendly in her manner to him. His head was turned, and he decided that
he really ought to get married."
"Well, at that point you ought to have taken away his goloshes and
umbrella," said Ivan Ivanovitch.
"Only fancy! that turned out to be impossible. He put Varinka's portrait
on his table, kept coming to see me and talking about Varinka, and home
life, saying marriage was a serious step. He was frequently at
Kovalenko's, but he did not alter his manner of life in the least; on
the contrary, indeed, his determination to get married seemed to have a
depressing effect on him. He grew thinner and paler, and seemed to
retreat further and further into his case.
"'I like Varvara Savvishna,' he used to say to me, with a faint and wry
smile, 'and I know that every one ought to get married, but... you know
all this has happened so suddenly.... One must think a little.'
"'What is there to think over?' I used to say to him. 'Get married--that
is all.'
"'No; marriage is a serious step. One must first weigh the duties before
one, the responsibilities... that nothing may go wrong afterwards. It
worries me so much that I don't sleep at night. And I must confess I am
afraid: her brother and she have a strange way of thinking; they look at
things strangely, you know, and her disposition is very impetuous. One
may get married, and then, there is no knowing, one may find oneself in
an unpleasant position.'
"And he did not make an offer; he kept putting it off, to the great
vexation of the headmaster's wife and all our ladies; he went on
weighing his future duties and responsibilities, and meanwhile he went
for a walk with Varinka almost every day--possibly he thought that this
was necessary in his position--and came to see me to talk about family
life. And in all probability in the end he would have proposed to her,
and would have made one of those unnecessary, stupid marriages such as
are made by thousands among us from being bored and having nothing to
do, if it had not been for a kolossalische scandal. I must mention that
Varinka's brother, Kovalenko, detested Byelikov from the first day of
their acquaintance, and could not endure him.
"'I don't understand,' he used to say to us, shrugging his shoulders--'I
don't understand how you can put up with that sneak, that nasty phiz.
Ugh! how can you live here! The atmosphere is stifling and unclean! Do
you call yourselves schoolmasters, teachers? You are paltry government
clerks. You keep, not a temple of science, but a department for red tape
and loyal behaviour, and it smells as sour as a police-station. No, my
friends; I will stay with you for a while, and then I will go to my farm
and there catch crabs and teach the Little Russians. I shall go, and you
can stay here with your Judas--damn his soul!'
"Or he would laugh till he cried, first in a loud bass, then in a
shrill, thin laugh, and ask me, waving his hands:
"'What does he sit here for? What does he want? He sits and stares.'
"He even gave Byelikov a nickname, 'The Spider.' And it will readily be
understood that we avoided talking to him of his sister's being about to
marry 'The Spider.'
"And on one occasion, when the headmaster's wife hinted to him what a
good thing it would be to secure his sister's future with such a
reliable, universally respected man as Byelikov, he frowned and
muttered:
"'It's not my business; let her marry a reptile if she likes. I don't
like meddling in other people's affairs.'
"Now hear what happened next. Some mischievous person drew a caricature
of Byelikov walking along in his goloshes with his trousers tucked up,
under his umbrella, with Varinka on his arm; below, the inscription
'Anthropos in love.' The expression was caught to a marvel, you know.
The artist must have worked for more than one night, for the teachers of
both the boys' and girls' high-schools, the teachers of the seminary,
the government officials, all received a copy. Byelikov received one,
too. The caricature made a very painful impression on him.
"We went out together; it was the first of May, a Sunday, and all of us,
the boys and the teachers, had agreed to meet at the high-school and
then to go for a walk together to a wood beyond the town. We set off,
and he was green in the face and gloomier than a storm-cloud.
"'What wicked, ill-natured people there are!' he said, and his lips
quivered.
"I felt really sorry for him. We were walking along, and all of a
sudden--would you believe it?--Kovalenko came bowling along on a bicycle,
and after him, also on a bicycle, Varinka, flushed and exhausted, but
good-humoured and gay.
"'We are going on ahead,' she called. 'What lovely weather! Awfully
lovely!'
"And they both disappeared from our sight. Byelikov turned white instead
of green, and seemed petrified. He stopped short and stared at me....
"'What is the meaning of it? Tell me, please!' he asked. 'Can my eyes
have deceived me? Is it the proper thing for high-school masters and
ladies to ride bicycles?'
"'What is there improper about it?' I said. 'Let them ride and enjoy
themselves.'
"'But how can that be?' he cried, amazed at my calm. 'What are you
saying?'
"And he was so shocked that he was unwilling to go on, and returned
home.
"Next day he was continually twitching and nervously rubbing his hands,
and it was evident from his face that he was unwell. And he left before
his work was over, for the first time in his life. And he ate no dinner.
Towards evening he wrapped himself up warmly, though it was quite warm
weather, and sallied out to the Kovalenkos'. Varinka was out; he found
her brother, however.
"'Pray sit down,' Kovalenko said coldly, with a frown. His face looked
sleepy; he had just had a nap after dinner, and was in a very bad
humour.
"Byelikov sat in silence for ten minutes, and then began:
"'I have come to see you to relieve my mind. I am very, very much
troubled. Some scurrilous fellow has drawn an absurd caricature of me
and another person, in whom we are both deeply interested. I regard it
as a duty to assure you that I have had no hand in it.... I have given
no sort of ground for such ridicule--on the contrary, I have always
behaved in every way like a gentleman.'
"Kovalenko sat sulky and silent. Byelikov waited a little, and went on
slowly in a mournful voice:
"'And I have something else to say to you. I have been in the service
for years, while you have only lately entered it, and I consider it my
duty as an older colleague to give you a warning. You ride on a bicycle,
and that pastime is utterly unsuitable for an educator of youth.'
"'Why so?' asked Kovalenko in his bass.
"'Surely that needs no explanation, Mihail Savvitch--surely you can
understand that? If the teacher rides a bicycle, what can you expect the
pupils to do? You will have them walking on their heads next! And so
long as there is no formal permission to do so, it is out of the
question. I was horrified yesterday! When I saw your sister everything
seemed dancing before my eyes. A lady or a young girl on a bicycle--it's
awful!'
"'What is it you want exactly?'
"'All I want is to warn you, Mihail Savvitch. You are a young man, you
have a future before you, you must be very, very careful in your
behaviour, and you are so careless--oh, so careless! You go about in an
embroidered shirt, are constantly seen in the street carrying books, and
now the bicycle, too. The headmaster will learn that you and your sister
ride the bicycle, and then it will reach the higher authorities.... Will
that be a good thing?'
"'It's no business of anybody else if my sister and I do bicycle!' said
Kovalenko, and he turned crimson. 'And damnation take any one who
meddles in my private affairs!'
"Byelikov turned pale and got up.
"'If you speak to me in that tone I cannot continue,' he said. 'And I
beg you never to express yourself like that about our superiors in my