The Torrents of Spring
time, never talked to any one, and trembled at the very name of her
mistress, though the latter scarcely knew her by sight. When Gerasim
was brought from the country, she was ready to die with fear on seeing
his huge figure, tried all she could to avoid meeting him, even dropped
her eyelids when sometimes she chanced to run past him, hurrying from
the house to the laundry. Gerasim at first paid no special attention to
her, then he used to smile when she came his way, then he began even to
stare admiringly at her, and at last he never took his eyes off her.
She took his fancy, whether by the mild expression of her face or the
timidity of her movements, who can tell? So one day she was stealing
across the yard, with a starched dressing-jacket of her mistress’s
carefully poised on her outspread fingers … some one suddenly grasped
her vigorously by the elbow; she turned round and fairly screamed;
behind her stood Gerasim. With a foolish smile, making inarticulate
caressing grunts, he held out to her a gingerbread cock with gold
tinsel on his tail and wings. She was about to refuse it, but he thrust
it forcibly into her hand, shook his head, walked away, and turning
round, once more grunted something very affectionately to her. From
that day forward he gave her no peace; wherever she went, he was on the
spot at once, coming to meet her, smiling, grunting, waving his hands;
all at once he would pull a ribbon out of the bosom of his smock and
put it in her hand, or would sweep the dust out of her way. The poor
girl simply did not know how to behave or what to do. Soon the whole
household knew of the dumb porter’s wiles; jeers, jokes, sly hints were
showered upon Tatiana. At Gerasim, however, it was not every one who
would dare to scoff; he did not like jokes; indeed, in his presence,
she, too, was left in peace. Whether she liked it or not, the girl
found herself to be under his protection. Like all deaf-mutes, he was
very suspicious, and very readily perceived when they were laughing at
him or at her. One day, at dinner, the wardrobe-keeper, Tatiana’s
superior, fell to nagging, as it is called, at her, and brought the
poor thing to such a state that she did not know where to look, and was
almost crying with vexation. Gerasim got up all of a sudden, stretched
out his gigantic hand, laid it on the wardrobe-maid’s head, and looked
into her face with such grim ferocity that her head positively flopped
upon the table. Every one was still. Gerasim took up his spoon again
and went on with his cabbage-soup. “Look at him, the dumb devil, the
wood-demon!” they all muttered in under-tones, while the wardrobe-maid
got up and went out into the maids’ room. Another time, noticing that
Kapiton—the same Kapiton who was the subject of the conversation
reported above—was gossiping somewhat too attentively with Tatiana,
Gerasim beckoned him to him, led him into the cartshed, and taking up a
shaft that was standing in a corner by one end, lightly, but most
significantly, menaced him with it. Since then no one addressed a word
to Tatiana. And all this cost him nothing. It is true the
wardrobe-maid, as soon as she reached the maids’ room, promptly fell
into a fainting-fit, and behaved altogether so skilfully that Gerasim’s
rough action reached his mistress’s knowledge the same day. But the
capricious old lady only laughed, and several times, to the great
offence of the wardrobe-maid, forced her to repeat “how he bent your
head down with his heavy hand,” and next day she sent Gerasim a rouble.
She looked on him with favour as a strong and faithful watchman.
Gerasim stood in considerable awe of her, but, all the same, he had
hopes of her favour, and was preparing to go to her with a petition for
leave to marry Tatiana. He was only waiting for a new coat, promised
him by the steward, to present a proper appearance before his mistress,
when this same mistress suddenly took it into her head to marry Tatiana
to Kapiton.
The reader will now readily understand the perturbation of mind that
overtook the steward Gavrila after his conversation with his mistress.
“My lady,” he thought, as he sat at the window, “favours Gerasim, to be
sure”—(Gavrila was well aware of this, and that was why he himself
looked on him with an indulgent eye)—“still he is a speechless
creature. I could not, indeed, put it before the mistress that
Gerasim’s courting Tatiana. But, after all, it’s true enough; he’s a
queer sort of husband. But on the other hand, that devil, God forgive
me, has only got to find out they’re marrying Tatiana to Kapiton, he’ll
smash up everything in the house, ’pon my soul! There’s no reasoning
with him; why, he’s such a devil, God forgive my sins, there’s no
getting over him no how … ’pon my soul!”
Kapiton’s entrance broke the thread of Gavrila’s reflections. The
dissipated shoemaker came in, his hands behind him, and lounging
carelessly against a projecting angle of the wall, near the door,
crossed his right foot in front of his left, and tossed his head, as
much as to say, “What do you want?”
Gavrila looked at Kapiton, and drummed with his fingers on the
window-frame. Kapiton merely screwed up his leaden eyes a little, but
he did not look down, he even grinned slightly, and passed his hand
over his whitish locks which were sticking up in all directions. “Well,
here I am. What is it?”
“You’re a pretty fellow,” said Gavrila, and paused. “A pretty fellow
you are, there’s no denying!”
Kapiton only twitched his little shoulders.
“Are you any better, pray?” he thought to himself.
“Just look at yourself, now, look at yourself,” Gavrila went on
reproachfully; “now, what ever do you look like?”
Kapiton serenely surveyed his shabby tattered coat, and his patched
trousers, and with special attention stared at his burst boots,
especially the one on the tip-toe of which his right foot so gracefully
poised, and he fixed his eyes again on the steward.
“Well?”
“Well?” repeated Gavrila. “Well? And then you say well? You look like
old Nick himself, God forgive my saying so, that’s what you look like.”
Kapiton blinked rapidly.
“Go on abusing me, go on, if you like, Gavrila Andreitch,” he thought
to himself again.
“Here you’ve been drunk again,” Gavrila began, “drunk again, haven’t
you? Eh? Come, answer me!”
“Owing to the weakness of my health, I have exposed myself to
spirituous beverages, certainly,” replied Kapiton.
“Owing to the weakness of your health!… They let you off too easy,
that’s what it is; and you’ve been apprenticed in Petersburg…. Much you
learned in your apprenticeship! You simply eat your bread in idleness.”
“In that matter, Gavrila Andreitch, there is one to judge me, the Lord
God Himself, and no one else. He also knows what manner of man I be in
this world, and whether I eat my bread in idleness. And as concerning
your contention regarding drunkenness, in that matter, too, I am not to
blame, but rather a friend; he led me into temptation, but was
diplomatic and got away, while I….”
“While you were left, like a goose, in the street. Ah, you’re a
dissolute fellow! But that’s not the point,” the steward went on, “I’ve
something to tell you. Our lady…” here he paused a minute, “it’s our
lady’s pleasure that you should be married. Do you hear? She imagines
you may be steadier when you’re married. Do you understand?”
“To be sure I do.”
“Well, then. For my part I think it would be better to give you a good
hiding. But there—it’s her business. Well? are you agreeable?”
Kapiton grinned.
“Matrimony is an excellent thing for any one, Gavrila Andreitch; and,
as far as I am concerned, I shall be quite agreeable.”
“Very well, then,” replied Gavrila, while he reflected to himself:
“there’s no denying the man expresses himself very properly. Only
there’s one thing,” he pursued aloud: “the wife our lady’s picked out
for you is an unlucky choice.”
“Why, who is she, permit me to inquire?”
“Tatiana.”
“Tatiana?”
And Kapiton opened his eyes, and moved a little away from the wall.
“Well, what are you in such a taking for?… Isn’t she to your taste,
hey?”
“Not to my taste, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch! She’s right enough, a
hard-working steady girl…. But you know very well yourself, Gavrila
Andreitch, why that fellow, that wild man of the woods, that monster of
the steppes, he’s after her, you know….”
“I know, mate, I know all about it,” the butler cut him short in a tone
of annoyance: “but there, you see….”
“But upon my soul, Gavrila Andreitch! why, he’ll kill me, by God, he
will, he’ll crush me like some fly; why, he’s got a fist—why, you
kindly look yourself what a fist he’s got; why, he’s simply got a fist
like Minin Pozharsky’s. You see he’s deaf, he beats and does not hear
how he’s beating! He swings his great fists, as if he’s asleep. And
there’s no possibility of pacifying him; and for why? Why, because, as
you know yourself, Gavrila Andreitch, he’s deaf, and what’s more, has
no more wit than the heel of my foot. Why, he’s a sort of beast, a
heathen idol, Gavrila Andreitch, and worse … a block of wood; what have
I done that I should have to suffer from him now? Sure it is, it’s all
over with me now; I’ve knocked about, I’ve had enough to put up with,
I’ve been battered like an earthenware pot, but still I’m a man, after
all, and not a worthless pot.”
“I know, I know, don’t go talking away….”
“Lord, my God!” the shoemaker continued warmly, “when is the end? when,
O Lord! A poor wretch I am, a poor wretch whose sufferings are endless!
What a life, what a life mine’s been, come to think of it! In my young
days, I was beaten by a German I was ’prentice to; in the prime of life
beaten by my own countrymen, and last of all, in ripe years, see what I
have been brought to….”
“Ugh, you flabby soul!” said Gavrila Andreitch. “Why do you make so
many words about it?”
“Why, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch? It’s not a beating I’m afraid of,
Gavrila Andreitch. A gentleman may chastise me in private, but give me
a civil word before folks, and I’m a man still; but see now, whom I’ve
to do with….”
“Come, get along,” Gavrila interposed impatiently. Kapiton turned away
and staggered off.
“But, if it were not for him,” the steward shouted after him, “you
would consent for your part?”
“I signify my acquiescence,” retorted Kapiton as he disappeared.
His fine language did not desert him, even in the most trying
positions.
The steward walked several times up and down the room.
“Well, call Tatiana now,” he said at last.
A few instants later, Tatiana had come up almost noiselessly, and was
standing in the doorway.
“What are your orders, Gavrila Andreitch?” she said in a soft voice.
The steward looked at her intently.
“Well, Taniusha,” he said, “would you like to be married? Our lady has
chosen a husband for you.”
“Yes, Gavrila Andreitch. And whom has she deigned to name as a husband
for me?” she added falteringly.
“Kapiton, the shoemaker.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He’s a feather-brained fellow, that’s certain. But it’s just for that
the mistress reckons upon you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s one difficulty … you know the deaf man, Gerasim, he’s courting
you, you see. How did you come to bewitch such a bear? But you see,
he’ll kill you, very like, he’s such a bear….”
“He’ll kill me, Gavrila Andreitch, he’ll kill me, and no mistake.”
“Kill you…. Well, we shall see about that. What do you mean by saying
he’ll kill you? Has he any right to kill you? tell me yourself.”
“I don’t know, Gavrila Andreitch, about his having any right or not.”
“What a woman! why, you’ve made him no promise, I suppose….”
“What are you pleased to ask of me?”
The steward was silent for a little, thinking, “You’re a meek soul!
Well, that’s right,” he said aloud; “we’ll have another talk with you