Short Stories
what matters most of all, he is straightforward. Give him my greetings and
describe the circumstances of the case. And since I owe him seven roubles
over our last game of cards, take the opportunity to pay him the money;
that will soften the stern old man. In any case his advice may serve as a
guide for us. And meanwhile take Elena Ivanovna home.... Calm yourself, my
dear," he continued, addressing her. "I am weary of these outcries and
feminine squabblings, and should like a nap. It's soft and warm in here,
though I have hardly had time to look round in this unexpected haven."
"Look round! Why, is it light in there?" cried Elena Ivanovna in a tone of
relief.
"I am surrounded by impenetrable night," answered the poor captive; "but I
can feel and, so to speak, have a look round with my hands.... Good-bye;
set your mind at rest and don't deny yourself recreation and diversion.
Till to-morrow! And you, Semyon Semyonitch, come to me in the evening, and
as you are absent-minded and may forget it, tie a knot in your
handkerchief."
I confess I was glad to get away, for I was overtired and somewhat bored.
Hastening to offer my arm to the disconsolate Elena Ivanovna, whose charms
were only enhanced by her agitation, I hurriedly led her out of the
crocodile room.
"The charge will be another quarter-rouble in the evening," the proprietor
called after us.
"Oh, dear, how greedy they are!" said Elena Ivanovna, looking at herself in
every mirror on the walls of the Arcade, and evidently aware that she was
looking prettier than usual.
"The principles of economics," I answered with some emotion, proud that
passers-by should see the lady on my arm.
"The principles of economics," she drawled in a touching little voice. "I
did not in the least understand what Ivan Matveitch said about those horrid
economics just now."
"I will explain to you," I answered, and began at once telling her of the
beneficial effects of the introduction of foreign capital into our country,
upon which I had read an article in the _Petersburg News_ and the _Voice_
that morning.
"How strange it is," she interrupted, after listening for some time. "But
do leave off, you horrid man. What nonsense you are talking.... Tell me, do
I look purple?"
"You look perfect, and not purple!" I observed, seizing the opportunity to
pay her a compliment.
"Naughty man!" she said complacently. "Poor Ivan Matveitch," she added a
minute later, putting her little head on one side coquettishly. "I am
really sorry for him. Oh, dear!" she cried suddenly, "how is he going to
have his dinner ... and ... and ... what will he do ... if he wants
anything?"
"An unforeseen question," I answered, perplexed in my turn. To tell the
truth, it had not entered my head, so much more practical are women than we
men in the solution of the problems of daily life!
"Poor dear! how could he have got into such a mess ... nothing to amuse
him, and in the dark.... How vexing it is that I have no photograph of
him.... And so now I am a sort of widow," she added, with a seductive
smile, evidently interested in her new position. "Hm!... I am sorry for
him, though."
It was, in short, the expression of the very natural and intelligible grief
of a young and interesting wife for the loss of her husband. I took her
home at last, soothed her, and after dining with her and drinking a cup of
aromatic coffee, set off at six o'clock to Timofey Semyonitch, calculating
that at that hour all married people of settled habits would be sitting or
lying down at home.
Having written this first chapter in a style appropriate to the incident
recorded, I intend to proceed in a language more natural though less
elevated, and I beg to forewarn the reader of the fact.
II
The venerable Timofey Semyonitch met me rather nervously, as though
somewhat embarrassed. He led me to his tiny study and shut the door
carefully, "that the children may not hinder us," he added with evident
uneasiness. There he made me sit down on a chair by the writing-table, sat
down himself in an easy chair, wrapped round him the skirts of his old
wadded dressing-gown, and assumed an official and even severe air, in
readiness for anything, though he was not my chief nor Ivan Matveitch's,
and had hitherto been reckoned as a colleague and even a friend.
"First of all," he said, "take note that I am not a person in authority,
but just such a subordinate official as you and Ivan Matveitch.... I have
nothing to do with it, and do not intend to mix myself up in the affair."
I was surprised to find that he apparently knew all about it already. In
spite of that I told him the whole story over in detail. I spoke with
positive excitement, for I was at that moment fulfilling the obligations of
a true friend. He listened without special surprise, but with evident signs
of suspicion.
"Only fancy," he said, "I always believed that this would be sure to happen
to him."
"Why, Timofey Semyonitch? It is a very unusual incident in itself...."
"I admit it. But Ivan Matveitch's whole career in the service was leading
up to this end. He was flighty--conceited indeed. It was always 'progress'
and ideas of all sorts, and this is what progress brings people to!"
"But this is a most unusual incident and cannot possibly serve as a general
rule for all progressives."
"Yes, indeed it can. You see, it's the effect of over-education, I assure
you. For over-education leads people to poke their noses into all sorts of
places, especially where they are not invited. Though perhaps you know
best," he added, as though offended. "I am an old man and not of much
education. I began as a soldier's son, and this year has been the jubilee
of my service."
"Oh, no, Timofey Semyonitch, not at all. On the contrary, Ivan Matveitch is
eager for your advice; he is eager for your guidance. He implores it, so to
say, with tears."
"So to say, with tears! Hm! Those are crocodile's tears and one cannot
quite believe in them. Tell me, what possessed him to want to go abroad?
And how could he afford to go? Why, he has no private means!"
"He had saved the money from his last bonus," I answered plaintively. "He
only wanted to go for three months--to Switzerland ... to the land of
William Tell."
"William Tell? Hm!"
"He wanted to meet the spring at Naples, to see the museums, the customs,
the animals...."
"Hm! The animals! I think it was simply from pride. What animals? Animals,
indeed! Haven't we animals enough? We have museums, menageries, camels.
There are bears quite close to Petersburg! And here he's got inside a
crocodile himself...."
"Oh, come, Timofey Semyonitch! The man is in trouble, the man appeals to
you as to a friend, as to an older relation, craves for advice--and you
reproach him. Have pity at least on the unfortunate Elena Ivanovna!"
"You are speaking of his wife? A charming little lady," said Timofey
Semyonitch, visibly softening and taking a pinch of snuff with relish.
"Particularly prepossessing. And so plump, and always putting her pretty
little head on one side.... Very agreeable. Andrey Osipitch was speaking of
her only the other day."
"Speaking of her?"
"Yes, and in very flattering terms. Such a bust, he said, such eyes, such
hair.... A sugar-plum, he said, not a lady--and then he laughed. He is
still a young man, of course." Timofey Semyonitch blew his nose with a loud
noise. "And yet, young though he is, what a career he is making for
himself."
"That's quite a different thing, Timofey Semyonitch."
"Of course, of course."
"Well, what do you say then, Timofey Semyonitch?"
"Why, what can I do?"
"Give advice, guidance, as a man of experience, a relative! What are we to
do? What steps are we to take? Go to the authorities and ..."
"To the authorities? Certainly not," Timofey Semyonitch replied hurriedly.
"If you ask my advice, you had better, above all, hush the matter up and
act, so to speak, as a private person. It is a suspicious incident, quite
unheard of. Unheard of, above all; there is no precedent for it, and it is
far from creditable.... And so discretion above all.... Let him lie there a
bit. We must wait and see...."
"But how can we wait and see, Timofey Semyonitch? What if he is stifled
there?"
"Why should he be? I think you told me that he made himself fairly
comfortable there?"
I told him the whole story over again. Timofey Semyonitch pondered.
"Hm!" he said, twisting his snuff-box in his hands. "To my mind it's really
a good thing he should lie there a bit, instead of going abroad. Let him
reflect at his leisure. Of course he mustn't be stifled, and so he must
take measures to preserve his health, avoiding a cough, for instance, and
so on.... And as for the German, it's my personal opinion he is within his
rights, and even more so than the other side, because it was the other
party who got into _his_ crocodile without asking permission, and not _he_
who got into Ivan Matveitch's crocodile without asking permission, though,
so far as I recollect, the latter has no crocodile. And a crocodile is
private property, and so it is impossible to slit him open without
compensation."
"For the saving of human life, Timofey Semyonitch."
"Oh, well, that's a matter for the police. You must go to them."
"But Ivan Matveitch may be needed in the department. He may be asked for."
"Ivan Matveitch needed? Ha-ha! Besides, he is on leave, so that we may
ignore him--let him inspect the countries of Europe! It will be a different
matter if he doesn't turn up when his leave is over. Then we shall ask for
him and make inquiries."
"Three months! Timofey Semyonitch, for pity's sake!"
"It's his own fault. Nobody thrust him there. At this rate we should have
to get a nurse to look after him at government expense, and that is not
allowed for in the regulations. But the chief point is that the crocodile
is private property, so that the principles of economics apply in this
question. And the principles of economics are paramount. Only the other
evening, at Luka Andreitch's, Ignaty Prokofyitch was saying so. Do you know
Ignaty Prokofyitch? A capitalist, in a big way of business, and he speaks
so fluently. 'We need industrial development,' he said; 'there is very
little development among us. We must create it. We must create capital, so
we must create a middle-class, the so-called bourgeoisie. And as we haven't
capital we must attract it from abroad. We must, in the first place, give
facilities to foreign companies to buy up lands in Russia as is done now
abroad. The communal holding of land is poison, is ruin.' And, you know, he
spoke with such heat; well, that's all right for him--a wealthy man, and
not in the service. 'With the communal system,' he said, 'there will be no
improvement in industrial development or agriculture. Foreign companies,'
he said, 'must as far as possible buy up the whole of our land in big lots,
and then split it up, split it up, split it up, in the smallest parts
possible'--and do you know he pronounced the words 'split it up' with such
determination--'and then sell it as private property. Or rather, not sell
it, but simply let it. When,' he said, 'all the land is in the hands of
foreign companies they can fix any rent they like. And so the peasant will
work three times as much for his daily bread and he can be turned out at
pleasure. So that he will feel it, will be submissive and industrious, and
will work three times as much for the same wages. But as it is, with the
commune, what does he care? He knows he won't die of hunger, so he is lazy
and drunken. And meanwhile money will be attracted into Russia, capital
will be created and the bourgeoisie will spring up. The English political
and literary paper, _The Times_, in an article the other day on our