In one of the outlying streets of Moscow, in a gray house with white columns and a balcony, warped2 all askew3, there was once living a lady, a widow, surrounded by a numerous household of serfs. Her sons were in the government service at Petersburg; her daughters were married; she went out very little, and in solitude4 lived through the last years of her miserly and dreary5 old age. Her day, a joyless and gloomy day, had long been over; but the evening of her life was blacker than night.
Of all her servants, the most remarkable6 personage was the porter, Gerasim, a man full twelve inches over the normal height, of heroic build, and deaf and dumb from his birth. The lady, his owner, had brought him up from the village where he lived alone in a little hut, apart from his brothers, and was reckoned about the most punctual of her peasants in the payment of the seignorial dues. Endowed with extraordinary strength, he did the work of four men; work flew apace under his hands, and it was a pleasant sight to see him when he was ploughing, while, with his huge palms pressing hard upon the plough, he seemed alone, unaided by his poor horse, to cleave8 the yielding bosom9 of the earth, or when, about St. Peter's Day, he plied10 his scythe11 with a furious energy that might have mown a young birch copse up by the roots, or swiftly and untiringly wielded13 a flail14 over two yards long; while the hard oblong muscles of his shoulders rose and fell like a lever. His perpetual silence lent a solemn dignity to his unwearying labor15. He was a splendid peasant, and, except for his affliction, any girl would have been glad to marry him. . . But now they had taken Gerasim to Moscow, bought him boots, had him made a full-skirted coat for summer, a sheepskin for winter, put into his hand a broom and a spade, and appointed him porter.
At first he intensely disliked his new mode of life. From his childhood he had been used to field labor, to village life. Shut off by his affliction from the society of men, he had grown up, dumb and mighty17, as a tree grows on a fruitful soil. When he was transported to the town, he could not understand what was being done with him; he was miserable18 and stupefied, with the stupefaction of some strong young bull, taken straight from the meadow, where the rich grass stood up to his belly19, taken and put in the truck of a railway train, and there, while smoke and sparks and gusts20 of steam puff21 out upon the sturdy beast, he is whirled onwards, whirled along with loud roar and whistle, whither—God knows! What Gerasim had to do in his new duties seemed a mere22 trifle to him after his hard toil23 as a peasant; in half an hour all his work was done, and he would once more stand stock-still in the middle of the courtyard, staring open-mouthed at all the passers-by, as though trying to wrest24 from them the explanation of his perplexing position; or he would suddenly go off into some corner, and flinging a long way off the broom or the spade, throw himself on his face on the ground, and lie for hours together without stirring, like a caged beast. But man gets used to anything, and Gerasim got used at last to living in town. He had little work to do; his whole duty consisted in keeping the courtyard clean, bringing in a barrel of water twice a day, splitting and dragging in wood for the kitchen and the house, keeping out strangers, and watching at night. And it must be said he did his duty zealously25. In his courtyard there was never a shaving lying about, never a speck27 of dust; if sometimes, in the muddy season, the wretched nag7, put under his charge for fetching water, got stuck in the road, he would simply give it a shove with his shoulder, and set not only the cart but the horse itself moving. If he set to chopping wood, the axe30 fairly rang like glass, and chips and chunks31 flew in all directions. And as for strangers, after he had one night caught two thieves and knocked their heads together—knocked them so that there was not the slightest need to take them to the police-station afterwards—every one in the neighborhood began to feel a great respect for him; even those who came in the daytime, by no means robbers, but simply unknown persons, at the sight of the terrible porter, waved and shouted to him as though he could hear their shouts. With all the rest of the servants, Gerasim was on terms hardly friendly—they were afraid of him—but familiar; he regarded them as his fellows. They explained themselves to him by signs, and he understood them, and exactly carried out all orders, but knew his own rights too, and soon no one dared to take his seat at the table. Gerasim was altogether of a strict and serious temper, he liked order in everything; even the cocks did not dare to fight in his presence, or woe32 betide them! Directly he caught sight of them, he would seize them by the legs, swing them ten times round in the air like a wheel, and throw them in different directions. There were geese, too, kept in the yard; but the goose, as is well known, is a dignified33 and reasonable bird: Gerasim felt a respect for them, looked after them, and fed them; he was himself not unlike a gander of the steppes. He was assigned a little garret over the kitchen; he arranged it himself to his own liking34, made a bedstead in it of oak boards on four stumps35 of wood for legs—a truly Titanic36 bedstead; one might have put a ton or two on it—it would not have bent37 under the load; under the bed was a solid chest; in a corner stood a little table of the same strong kind, and near the table a three-legged stool, so solid and squat38 that Gerasim himself would sometimes pick it up and drop it again with a smile of delight. The garret was locked up by means of a padlock that looked like a kalatch or basket-shaped loaf, only black; the key of this padlock Gerasim always carried about him in his girdle. He did not like people to come to his garret.
So passed a year, at the end of which a little incident befell Gerasim.
The old lady, in whose service he lived as porter, adhered in everything to the ancient ways, and kept a large number of servants. In her house were not only laundresses, sempstresses, carpenters, tailors and tailoresses, there was even a harness-maker—he was reckoned as a veterinary surgeon, too,—and a doctor for the servants; there was a household doctor for the mistress; there was, lastly, a shoemaker, by name Kapiton Klimov, a sad drunkard. Klimov regarded himself as an injured creature, whose merits were unappreciated, a cultivated man from Petersburg, who ought not to be living in Moscow without occupation—in the wilds, so to speak; and if he drank, as he himself expressed it emphatically, with a blow on his chest, it was sorrow drove him to it. So one day his mistress had a conversation about him with her head steward39, Gavrila, a man whom, judging solely40 from his little yellow eyes and nose like a duck's beak41, fate itself, it seemed, had marked out as a person in authority. The lady expressed her regret at the corruption42 of the morals of Kapiton, who had, only the evening before, been picked up somewhere in the street.
"Now, Gavrila," she observed, all of a sudden, "now, if we were to marry him, what do you think, perhaps he would be steadier?"
"Why not marry him, indeed, 'm? He could be married, 'm," answered
Gavrila, "and it would be a very good thing, to be sure, 'm."
"Yes; only who is to marry him?"
"Ay, 'm. But that's at your pleasure, 'm. He may, any way, so to say, be wanted for something; he can't be turned adrift altogether."
"I fancy he likes Tatiana."
Gavrila was on the point of making some reply, but he shut his lips tightly.
"Yes! . . . let him marry Tatiana," the lady decided43, taking a pinch of snuff complacently44, "Do you hear?"
"Yes, 'm," Gavrila articulated, and he withdrew.
Returning to his own room (it was in a little lodge45, and was almost filled up with metal-bound trunks), Gavrila first sent his wife away, and then sat down at the window and pondered. His mistress's unexpected arrangement had clearly put him in a difficulty. At last he got up and sent to call Kapiton. Kapiton made his appearance. . . But before reporting their conversation to the reader, we consider it not out of place to relate in few words who was this Tatiana, whom it was to be Kapiton's lot to marry, and why the great lady's order had disturbed the steward.
Tatiana, one of the laundresses referred to above (as a trained and skilful46 laundress she was in charge of the fine linen47 only), was a woman of twenty-eight, thin, fair-haired, with moles48 on her left cheek. Moles on the left cheek are regarded as of evil omen49 in Russia—a token of unhappy life. . . Tatiana could not boast of her good luck. From her earliest youth she had been badly treated; she had done the work of two, and had never known affection; she had been poorly clothed and had received the smallest wages. Relations she had practically none; an uncle she had once had, a butler, left behind in the country as useless, and other uncles of hers were peasants—that was all. At one time she had passed for a beauty, but her good looks were very soon over. In disposition50, she was very meek51, or, rather, scared; towards herself, she felt perfect indifference52; of others, she stood in mortal dread53; she thought of nothing but how to get her work done in good 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 eyelids54 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 starched55 dressing-jacket of her mistress's carefully poised57 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 caressing58 grunts59, 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 grunted60 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, grunting61, 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 wiles62; jeers63, jokes, sly hints, were showered upon Tatiana. At Gerasim, however, it was not every one who would dare to scoff64; 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 nagging65, 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 positively66 flopped67 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 undertones, while the wardrobe-maid got up and went out into the maid's room. Another time, noticing that Kapiton—the same Kapiton who was the subject of the conversation reported above—was gossiping somewhat too attentively68 with Tatiana, Gerasim beckoned69 him to him, led him into the cartshed, and taking up a shaft70 that was standing71 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, promptly72 fell into a fainting fit, and behaved altogether so skilfully73 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 favor as a strong and faithful watchman. Gerasim stood in considerable awe74 of her, but, all the same, he had hopes of her favor, 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, "favors 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 nohow . . . '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!"
"Just look at yourself, now, look at yourself," Gavrila went on reproachfully; "now, whatever do you look like?"
Kapiton serenely76 surveyed his shabby, tattered77 coat and his patched trousers, and with special attention stared at his burst boots, especially the one on the tiptoe of which his right foot so gracefully78 poised, and he fixed79 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 beverages80, 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 apprenticed81 in Petersburg. . . Much you learned in your apprenticeship82! 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 contention83 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 annoyance85: "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 kindly86 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 pacifying87 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 idol88, 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 me now; I've knocked about, I've had enough to put up with, I've been battered89 like an earthenware90 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 wretch28 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 chastise91 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.
"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 deigned93 to name as a husband for me?" she added falteringly94.
"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 later, now you can go, Taniusha; I see you're not unruly, certainly."
Tatiana turned, steadied herself a little against the doorpost, and went away.
"And, perhaps, our lady will forget all about this wedding by to-morrow," thought the steward; "and here am I worrying myself for nothing! As for that insolent95 fellow, we must tie him down if it comes to that, we must let the police know . . . Ustinya Fyedorovna!" he shouted in a loud voice to his wife, "heat the samovar, my good soul . . ." All that day Tatiana hardly went out of the laundry. At first she had started crying, then she wiped away her tears, and set to work as before. Kapiton stayed till late at night at the gin-shop with a friend of his, a man of gloomy appearance, to whom he related in detail how he used to live in Petersburg with a gentleman, who would have been all right, except he was a bit too strict, and he had a slight weakness besides, he was too fond of drink; and, as to the fair sex, he didn't stick at anything. His gloomy companion merely said yes; but when Kapiton announced at last that, in a certain event, he would have to lay hands on himself to-morrow, his gloomy companion remarked that it was bedtime. And they parted in surly silence.
Meanwhile, the steward's anticipations97 were not fulfilled. The old lady was so much taken up with the idea of Kapiton's wedding, that even in the night she talked of nothing else to one of her companions, who was kept in her house solely to entertain her in case of sleeplessness98, and, like a night cabman, slept in the day. When Gavrila came to her after morning tea with his report, her first question was: "And how about our wedding—is it getting on all right?" He replied, of course, that it was getting on first-rate, and that Kapiton would appear before her to pay his reverence99 to her that day. The old lady was not quite well; she did not give much time to business. The steward went back to his own room, and called a council. The matter certainly called for serious consideration. Tatiana would make no difficulty, of course; but Kapiton had declared in the hearing of all that he had but one head to lose, not two or three. . . Gerasim turned rapid sullen100 looks on every one, would not budge101 from the steps of the maids' quarters, and seemed to guess that some mischief102 was being hatched against him. They met together. Among them was an old sideboard waiter, nicknamed Uncle Tail, to whom every one looked respectfully for counsel, though all they got out of him was, "Here's a pretty pass! to be sure, to be sure, to be sure!" As a preliminary measure of security, to provide against contingencies103, they locked Kapiton up in the lumber-room where the filter was kept; then considered the question with the gravest deliberation. It would, to be sure, be easy to have recourse to force. But Heaven save us! There would be an uproar104, the mistress would be put out—it would be awful! What should they do? They thought and thought, and at last thought out a solution. It had many a time been observed that Gerasim could not bear drunkards. . . . As he sat at the gates, he would always turn away with disgust when some one passed by intoxicated105, with unsteady steps and his cap on one side of his ear. They resolved that Tatiana should be instructed to pretend to be tipsy, and should pass by Gerasim staggering and reeling about. The poor girl refused for a long while to agree to this, but they persuaded her at last; she saw, too, that it was the only possible way of getting rid of her adorer. She went out. Kapiton was released from the lumber-room; for, after all, he had an interest in the affair. Gerasim was sitting on the curbstone at the gates, scraping the ground with a spade. . . . From behind every corner, from behind every window-blind, the others were watching him. . . . The trick succeeded beyond all expectations. On seeing Tatiana, at first, he nodded as usual, making caressing, inarticulate sounds; then he looked carefully at her, dropped his spade, jumped up, went up to her, brought his face close to her face. . . . In her fright she staggered more than ever, and shut her eyes. . . . He took her by the arm, whirled her right across the yard, and going into the room where the council had been sitting, pushed her straight at Kapiton. Tatiana fairly swooned away. . . . Gerasim stood, looked at her, waved his hand, laughed, and went off, stepping heavily, to his garret. . . . For the next twenty-four hours he did not come out of it. The postilion Antipka said afterwards that he saw Gerasim through a crack in the wall, sitting on his bedstead, his face in his hand. From time to time he uttered soft regular sounds; he was wailing106 a dirge107, that is, swaying backwards108 and forwards with his eyes shut, and shaking his head as drivers or bargemen do when they chant their melancholy109 songs. Antipka could not bear it, and he came away from the crack. When Gerasim came out of the garret next day, no particular change could be observed in him. He only seemed, as it were, more morose110, and took not the slightest notice of Tatiana or Kapiton. The same evening, they both had to appear before their mistress with geese under their arms, and in a week's time they were married. Even on the day of the wedding Gerasim showed no change of any sort in his behavior. Only, he came back from the river without water, he had somehow broken the barrel on the road; and at night, in the stable, he washed and rubbed down his horse so vigorously, it swayed like a blade of grass in the wind, and staggered from one leg to the other under his fists of iron.
All this had taken place in the spring. Another year passed by, during which Kapiton became a hopeless drunkard, and as being absolutely of no use for anything, was sent away with the store wagons111 to a distant village with his wife. On the day of his departure, he put a very good face on it at first, and declared that he would always be at home, send him where they would, even to the other end of the world; but later on he lost heart, began grumbling112 that he was being taken to uneducated people, and collapsed113 so completely at last that he could not even put his own hat on. Some charitable soul stuck it on his forehead, set the peak straight in front, and thrust it on with a slap from above. When everything was quite ready, and the peasants already held the reins114 in their hands, and were only waiting for the words "With God's blessing115!" to start, Gerasim came out of his garret, went up to Tatiana, and gave her as a parting present a red cotton handkerchief he had bought for her a year ago. Tatiana, who had up to that instant borne all the revolting details of her life with great indifference, could not control herself upon that; she burst into tears, and as she took her seat in the cart, she kissed Gerasim three times like a good Christian116. He meant to accompany her as far as the town-barrier, and did walk beside her cart for a while, but he stopped suddenly at the Crimean ford117, waved his hand, and walked away along the riverside.
It was getting towards evening. He walked slowly, watching the water. All of a sudden he fancied something was floundering in the mud close to the bank. He stooped over, and saw a little white-and-black puppy, who, in spite of all its efforts, could not get out of the water; it was struggling, slipping back, and trembling all over its thin wet little body. Gerasim looked at the unlucky little dog, picked it up with one hand, put it into the bosom of his coat, and hurried with long steps homewards. He went into his garret, put the rescued puppy on his bed, covered it with his thick overcoat, ran first to the stable for straw, and then to the kitchen for a cup of milk. Carefully folding back the overcoat, and spreading out the straw, he set the milk on the bedstead. The poor little puppy was not more than three weeks old, its eyes were just open—one eye still seemed rather larger than the other; it did not know how to lap out of a cup, and did nothing but shiver and blink. Gerasim took hold of its head softly with two fingers, and dipped its little nose into the milk. The pup suddenly began lapping greedily, sniffing119, shaking itself, and choking. Gerasim watched and watched it, and all at once he laughed outright120. . . . All night long he was waiting on it, keeping it covered, and rubbing it dry. He fell asleep himself at last, and slept quietly and happily by its side.
No mother could have looked after her baby as Gerasim looked after his little nursling. At first she—for the pup turned out to be a bitch—was very weak, feeble, and ugly, but by degrees she grew stronger and improved in looks, and, thanks to the unflagging care of her preserver, in eight months' time she was transformed into a very pretty dog of the spaniel breed, with long ears, a bushy spiral tail, and large, expressive121 eyes. She was devotedly122 attached to Gerasim, and was never a yard from his side; she always followed him about wagging her tail. He had even given her a name—the dumb know that their inarticulate noises call the attention of others. He called her Mumu. All the servants in the house liked her, and called her Mumu, too. She was very intelligent, she was friendly with every one, but was only fond of Gerasim. Gerasim, on his side, loved her passionately123, and he did not like it when other people stroked her; whether he was afraid for her, or jealous—God knows! She used to wake him in the morning, pulling at his coat; she used to take the reins in her mouth, and bring him up the old horse that carried the water, with whom she was on very friendly terms. With a face of great importance, she used to go with him to the river; she used to watch his brooms and spades, and never allowed any one to go into his garret. He cut a little hole in his door on purpose for her, and she seemed to feel that only in Gerasim's garret she was completely mistress and at home; and directly she went in, she used to jump with a satisfied air upon the bed. At night she did not sleep at all, but she never barked without sufficient cause, like some stupid house-dog, who, sitting on its hind-legs, blinking, with its nose in the air, barks simply from dullness, at the stars, usually three times in succession. No! Mumu's delicate little voice was never raised without good reason; either some stranger was passing close to the fence, or there was some suspicious sound or rustle124 somewhere. . . . In fact, she was an excellent watch-dog. It is true that there was another dog in the yard, a tawny125 old dog with brown spots, called Wolf, but he was never, even at night, let off the chain; and, indeed, he was so decrepit126 that he did not even wish for freedom. He used to lie curled up in his kennel127, and only rarely uttered a sleepy, almost noiseless bark, which broke off at once, as though he were himself aware of its uselessness. Mumu never went into the mistress's house; and when Gerasim carried wood into the rooms, she always stayed behind, impatiently waiting for him at the steps, pricking128 up her ears and turning her head to right and to left at the slightest creak of the door . . .
So passed another year. Gerasim went on performing his duties as house-porter, and was very well content with his lot, when suddenly an unexpected incident occurred. . . . One fine summer day the old lady was walking up and down the drawing-room with her dependants129. She was in high spirits; she laughed and made jokes. Her servile companions laughed and joked too, but they did not feel particularly mirthful; the household did not much like it, when their mistress was in a lively mood, for, to begin with, she expected from every one prompt and complete participation130 in her merriment, and was furious if any one showed a face that did not beam with delight; and secondly131, these outbursts never lasted long with her, and were usually followed by a sour and gloomy mood. That day she had got up in a lucky hour; at cards she took the four knaves132, which means the fulfilment of one's wishes (she used to try her fortune on the cards every morning), and her tea struck her as particularly delicious, for which her maid was rewarded by words of praise, and by twopence in money. With a sweet smile on her wrinkled lips, the lady walked about the drawing-room and went up to the window. A flower-garden had been laid out before the window, and in the very middle bed, under a rosebush, lay Mumu busily gnawing133 a bone. The lady caught sight of her.
"Mercy on us!" she cried suddenly; "what dog is that?"
The companion, addressed by the old lady, hesitated, poor thing, in that wretched state of uneasiness which is common in any person in a dependent position who doesn't know very well what significance to give to the exclamation134 of a superior.
"Mercy!" the lady cut her short; "but it's a charming little dog! order it to be brought in. Has he had it long? How is it I've never seen it before? . . . Order it to be brought in."
The companion flew at once into the hall.
"Boy, boy!" she shouted; "bring Mumu in at once! She's in the flower-garden."
"Her name's Mumu then," observed the lady; "a very nice name."
"Oh, very, indeed!" chimed in the companion. "Make haste, Stepan!"
Stepan, a sturdy-built young fellow, whose duties were those of a footman, rushed headlong into the flower-garden, and tried to capture Mumu, but she cleverly slipped from his fingers, and with her tail in the air, fled full speed to Gerasim, who was at that instant in the kitchen, knocking out and cleaning a barrel, turning it upside down in his hands like a child's drum. Stepan ran after her, and tried to catch her just at her master's feet; but the sensible dog would not let a stranger touch her, and with a bound, she got away. Gerasim looked on with a smile at all this ado; at last, Stepan got up, much amazed, and hurriedly explained to him by signs that the mistress wanted the dog brought in to her. Gerasim was a little astonished; he called Mumu, however, picked her up, and handed her over to Stepan. Stepan carried her into the drawing-room, and put her down on the parquette floor. The old lady began calling the dog to her in a coaxing136 voice. Mumu, who had never in her life been in such magnificent apartments, was very much frightened, and made a rush for the door, but, being driven back by the obsequious137 Stepan, she began trembling, and huddled138 close up against the wall.
"Mumu, Mumu, come to me, come to your mistress," said the lady; "come, silly thing . . . don't be afraid."
"Come, Mumu, come to the mistress," repeated the companions. "Come along!"
But Mumu looked round her uneasily, and did not stir.
"Bring her something to eat," said the old lady. "How stupid she is! she won't come to her mistress. What's she afraid of?"
"She's not used to your honor yet," ventured one of the companions in a timid and conciliatory voice.
Stepan brought in a saucer of milk, and set it down before Mumu, but Mumu would not even sniff118 at the milk, and still shivered, and looked round as before.
"Ah, what a silly you are!" said the lady, and going up to her, she stooped down, and was about to stroke her, but Mumu turned her head abruptly139, and showed her teeth. The lady hurriedly drew back her hand. . . .
A momentary140 silence followed. Mumu gave a faint whine141, as though she would complain and apologize. . . . The old lady moved back, scowling142. The dog's sudden movement had frightened her.
"Ah!" shrieked143 all the companions at once, "she's not bitten you, has she? Heaven forbid! (Mumu had never bitten any one in her life.) Ah! ah!"
"Take her away," said the old lady in a changed voice. "Wretched little dog! What a spiteful creature!"
And, turning round deliberately144, she went towards her boudoir. Her companions looked timidly at one another, and were about to follow her, but she stopped, stared coldly at them, and said, "What's that for, pray? I've not called you," and went out.
The companions waved their hands to Stepan in despair. He picked up Mumu, and flung her promptly outside the door, just at Gerasim's feet, and half an hour later a profound stillness led in the house, and the old lady sat on her sofa looking blacker than a thundercloud.
What trifles, if you think of it, will sometimes disturb any one!
Till evening the lady was out of humor; she did not talk to any one, did not play cards, and passed a bad night. She fancied the eau-de-Cologne they gave her was not the same as she usually had, and that her pillow smelt145 of soap, and she made the wardrobe-maid smell all the bed linen—in fact she was very upset and cross altogether. Next morning she ordered Gavrila to be summoned an hour earlier than usual.
"Tell me, please," she began, directly the latter, not without some inward trepidation146, crossed the threshold of her boudoir, "what dog was that barking all night in our yard? It wouldn't let me sleep!"
"A dog, 'm . . . what dog, 'm . . . may be, the dumb man's dog, 'm," he brought out in a rather unsteady voice.
"I don't know whether it was the dumb man's or whose, but it wouldn't let me sleep. And I wonder what we have such a lot of dogs for! I wish to know. We have a yard dog, haven't we?"
"Oh yes, 'm, we have, 'm. Wolf, 'm."
"Well, why more? what do we want more dogs for? It's simply introducing disorder147. There's no one in control in the house—that's what it is. And what does the dumb man want with a dog? Who gave him leave to keep dogs in my yard? Yesterday I went to the window, and there it was lying in the flower-garden; it had dragged in nastiness it was gnawing, and my roses are planted there . . ."
The lady ceased.
"Let her be gone from to-day . . . do you hear?"
"Yes, 'm."
"To-day. Now go. I will send for you later for the report."
Gavrila went away.
As he went through the drawing-room, the steward, by way of maintaining order, moved a bell from one table to another; he stealthily blew his duck-like nose in the hall, and went into the outer-hall. In the outer-hall, on a locker148, was Stepan asleep in the attitude of a slain149 warrior150 in a battalion151 picture, his bare legs thrust out below the coat which served him for a blanket. The steward gave him a shove, and whispered some instructions to him, to which Stepan responded with something between a yawn and a laugh. The steward went away, and Stepan got up, put on his coat and his boots, went out and stood on the steps. Five minutes had not passed before Gerasim made his appearance with a huge bundle of hewn logs on his back, accompanied by the inseparable Mumu. (The lady had given orders that her bedroom and boudoir should be heated at times even in the summer.) Gerasim turned sideways before the door, shoved it open with his shoulder, and staggered into the house with his load. Mumu, as usual, stayed behind to wait for him. Then Stepan, seizing his chance, suddenly pounced152 on her, like a kite on a chicken, held her down to the ground, gathered her up in his arms, and without even putting on his cap, ran out of the yard with her, got into the first fly he met, and galloped153 off to a market-place. There he soon found a purchaser, to whom he sold her for a shilling, on condition that he would keep her for at least a week tied up; then he returned at once. But before he got home, he got off the fly, and going right round the yard, jumped over the fence into the yard from a back street. He was afraid to go in at the gate for fear of meeting Gerasim.
His anxiety was unnecessary, however; Gerasim was no longer in the yard. On coming out of the house he had at once missed Mumu. He never remembered her failing to wait for his return, and began running up and down, looking for her, and calling her in his own way. . . . He rushed up to his garret, up to the hay-loft, ran out into the street, this way and that. . . . She was lost! He turned to the other serfs, with the most despairing signs, questioned them about her, pointing to her height from the ground, describing her with his hands. . . . Some of them really did not know what had become of Mumu, and merely shook their heads; others did know, and smiled to him for all response; while the steward assumed an important air, and began scolding the coachmen. Then Gerasim ran right away out of the yard.
It was dark by the time he came back. From his worn-out look, his unsteady walk, and his dusty clothes, it might be surmised154 that he had been running over half Moscow. He stood still opposite the windows of the mistress's house, took a searching look at the steps where a group of house-serfs were crowded together, turned away, and uttered once more his inarticulate "Mumu." Mumu did not answer. He went away. Every one looked after him, but no one smiled or said a word, and the inquisitive155 postilion Antipka reported next morning in the kitchen that the dumb man had been groaning156 all night.
All the next day Gerasim did not show himself, so that they were obliged to send the coachman Potap for water instead of him, at which the coachman Potap was anything but pleased. The lady asked Gavrila if her orders had been carried out. Gavrila replied that they had. The next morning Gerasim came out of his garret, and went about his work. He came in to his dinner, ate it, and went out again, without a greeting to any one. His face, which had always been lifeless, as with all deaf-mutes, seemed now to be turned to stone. After dinner he went out of the yard again, but not for long; he came back, and went straight up to the hay-loft. Night came on, a clear moonlight night. Gerasim lay breathing heavily, and incessantly157 turning from side to side. Suddenly he felt something pull at the skirt of his coat. He started, but did not raise his head, and even shut his eyes tighter. But again there was a pull, stronger than before; he jumped up before him, with an end of string round her neck, was Mumu, twisting and turning. A prolonged cry of delight broke from his speechless breast; he caught up Mumu, and hugged her tight in his arms, she licked his nose and eyes, and beard and moustache, all in one instant. . . . He stood a little, thought a minute, crept cautiously down from the hay-loft, looked round, and having satisfied himself that no one could see him, made his way successfully to his garret. Gerasim had guessed before that his dog had not got lost by her own doing, that she must have been taken away by the mistress's orders; the servants had explained to him by signs that his Mumu had snapped at her, and he determined158 to take his own measures. First he fed Mumu with a bit of bread, fondled her, and put her to bed, then he fell to meditating159, and spent the whole night long in meditating how he could best conceal160 her. At last he decided to leave her all day in the garret, and only to come in now and then to see her, and to take her out at night. The hole in the door he stopped up effectually with his old overcoat, and almost before it was light he was already in the yard, as though nothing had happened, even—innocent guile161!—the same expression of melancholy on his face. It did not even occur to the poor deaf man that Mumu would betray herself by her whining162; in reality, everyone in the house was soon aware that the dumb man's dog had come back, and was locked up in his garret, but from sympathy with him and with her, and partly, perhaps, from dread of him, they did not let him know that they had found out his secret. The steward scratched his head, and gave a despairing wave of his head, as much as to say, "Well, well, God have mercy on him! If only it doesn't come to the mistress's ears!"
But the dumb man had never shown such energy as on that day; he cleaned and scraped the whole courtyard, pulled up every single weed with his own hand, tugged163 up every stake in the fence of the flower-garden, to satisfy himself that they were strong enough, and unaided drove them in again; in fact, he toiled164 and labored165 so that even the old lady noticed his zeal26. Twice in the course of the day Gerasim went stealthily in to see his prisoner; when night came on, he lay down to sleep with her in the garret, not in the hay-loft, and only at two o'clock in the night he went out to take her a turn in the fresh air.
After walking about the courtyard a good while with her, he was just turning back, when suddenly a rustle was heard behind the fence on the side of the back street. Mumu pricked166 up her ears, growled—went up to the fence, sniffed167, and gave vent96 to a loud shrill168 bark. Some drunkard had thought fit to take refuge under the fence for the night. At that very time the old lady had just fallen asleep after a prolonged fit of "nervous agitation169"; these fits of agitation always overtook her after too hearty170 a supper. The sudden bark waked her up: her heart palpitated, and she felt faint. "Girls, girls!" she moaned. "Girls!" The terrified maids ran into her bedroom. "Oh, oh, I am dying!" she said, flinging her arms about in her agitation. "Again, that dog, again! . . . Oh, send for the doctor. They mean to be the death of me. . . . The dog, the dog again! Oh!" And she let her head fall back, which always signified a swoon. They rushed for the doctor, that is, for the household physician, Hariton. This doctor, whose whole qualification consisted in wearing soft-soled boots, knew how to feel the pulse delicately. He used to sleep fourteen hours out of the twenty-four, but the rest of the time he was always sighing, and continually dosing the old lady with cherrybay drops. This doctor ran up at once, fumigated171 the room with burnt feathers, and when the old lady opened her eyes, promptly offered her a wineglass of the hallowed drops on a silver tray. The old lady took them, but began again at once in a tearful voice complaining of the dog, of Gavrila, and of her fate, declaring that she was a poor old woman, and that every one had forsaken172 her, no one pitied her, every one wished her dead. Meanwhile the luckless Mumu had gone on barking, while Gerasim tried in vain to call her away, from the fence. "There . . . there . . . again," groaned173 the old lady, and once more she turned up the whites of her eyes. The doctor whispered to a maid, she rushed into the outer hall, and shook Stepan, he ran to wake Gavrila, Gavrila in a fury ordered the whole household to get up.
Gerasim turned round, saw lights and shadows moving in the windows, and with an instinct of coming trouble in his heart, put Mumu under his arm, ran into his garret, and locked himself in. A few minutes later five men were banging at his door, but feeling the resistance of the bolt, they stopped. Gavrila ran up in a fearful state of mind, and ordered them all to wait there and watch till morning. Then he flew off himself to the maids' quarter, and through an old companion, Liubov Liubimovna, with whose assistance he used to steal tea, sugar, and other groceries and to falsify the accounts, sent word to the mistress that the dog had unhappily run back from somewhere, but that to-morrow she should be killed, and would the mistress be so gracious as not to be angry and to overlook it. The old lady would probably not have been so soon appeased174, but the doctor had in his haste given her fully56 forty drops instead of twelve. The strong dose of narcotic175 acted; in a quarter of an hour the old lady was in a sound and peaceful sleep; while Gerasim was lying with a white face on his bed, holding Mumu's mouth tightly shut.
Next morning the lady woke up rather late. Gavrila was waiting till she should be awake, to give the order for a final assault on Gerasim's stronghold, while he prepared himself to face a fearful storm. But the storm did not come off. The old lady lay in bed and sent for the eldest176 of her dependent companions.
"Liubov Liubimovna," she began in a subdued177 weak voice—she was fond of playing the part of an oppressed and forsaken victim; needless to say, every one in the house was made extremely uncomfortable at such times—"Liubov Liubimovna, you see my position; go, my love, to Gavrila Andreitch, and talk to him a little. Can he really prize some wretched cur above the repose—the very life—of his mistress? I could not bear to think so," she added, with an expression of deep feeling. "Go, my love; be so good as to go to Gavrila Andreitch for me."
Liubov Liubimovna went to Gavrila's room. What conversation passed between them is not known, but a short time after, a whole crowd of people was moving across the yard in the direction of Gerasim's garret. Gavrila walked in front, holding his cap on with his hand, though there was no wind. The footmen and cooks were close behind him; Uncle Tail was looking out of a window, giving instructions, that is to say, simply waving his hands. At the rear there was a crowd of small boys skipping and hopping29 along; half of them were outsiders who had run up. On the narrow staircase leading to the garret sat one guard; at the door were standing two more with sticks. They began to mount the stairs, which they entirely178 blocked up. Gavrila went up to the door, knocked with his fist, shouting, "Open the door!"
"Open the door, I tell you," he repeated.
"But, Gavrila Andreitch," Stepan observed from below, "he's deaf, you know—he doesn't hear."
They all laughed.
"What are we to do?" Gavrila rejoined from above.
"Why, there's a hole there in the door," answered Stepan, "so you shake the stick in there."
Gavrila bent down.
"He's stuffed it up with a coat or something."
"Well, you just push the coat in."
"See, see—she speaks for herself," was remarked in the crowd, and again they laughed.
Gavrila scratched his ear.
"All right, let me."
And Stepan scrambled182 up, took the stick, pushed in the coat, and began waving the stick about in the opening, saying, "Come out, come out!" as he did so. He was still waving the stick, when suddenly the door of the garret was flung open; all the crowd flew pell-mell down the stairs instantly, Gavrila first of all. Uncle Tail locked the window.
"Come, come, come," shouted Gavrila from the yard, "mind what you're about."
Gerasim stood without stirring in his doorway. The crowd gathered at the foot of the stairs. Gerasim, with his arms akimbo, looked down at all these poor creatures in German coats; in his red peasant's shirt he looked like a giant before them. Gavrila took a step forward.
"Mind, mate," said he, "don't be insolent."
And he began to explain to him by signs that the mistress insists on having his dog; that he must hand it over at once, or it would be the worse for him.
Gerasim looked at him, pointed16 to the dog, made a motion with his hand round his neck, as though he were pulling a noose183 tight, and glanced with a face of inquiry184 at the steward.
Gerasim dropped his eyes, then all of a sudden roused himself and pointed to Mumu, who was all the while standing beside him, innocently wagging her tail and pricking up her ears inquisitively186. Then he repeated the strangling action round his neck and significantly struck himself on the breast, as though announcing he would take upon himself the task of killing187 Mumu.
"But you'll deceive us," Gavrila waved back in response.
Gerasim looked at him, smiled scornfully, struck himself again on the breast, and slammed to the door.
They all looked at one another in silence.
"What does that mean?" Gavrila began. "He's locked himself in."
"Let him be, Gavrila Andreitch," Stepan advised; "he'll do it if he's promised. He's like that, you know. . . . If he makes a promise, it's a certain thing. He's not like us others in that. The truth's the truth with him. Yes, indeed."
"Yes," they all repeated, nodding their heads, "yes—that's so—yes."
Uncle Tail opened his window, and he too said, "Yes."
"Well, may be, we shall see," responded Gavrila; "any way, we won't take off the guard. Here you, Eroshka!" he added, addressing a poor fellow in a yellow nankeen coat, who considered himself to be a gardener, "what have you to do? Take a stick and sit here, and if anything happens, run to me at once!"
Eroshka took a stick, and sat down on the bottom stair. The crowd dispersed188, all except a few inquisitive small boys, while Gavrila went home and sent word through Liubov Liubimovna to the mistress that everything had been done, while he sent a postilion for a policeman in case of need. The old lady tied a knot in her handkerchief, sprinkled some eau-de-Cologne on it, sniffed at it, and rubbed her temples with it, drank some tea, and, being still under the influence of the cherrybay drops, fell asleep again.
An hour after all this hubbub189 the garret door opened, and Gerasim showed himself. He had on his best coat; he was leading Mumu by a string. Eroshka moved aside and let him pass. Gerasim went to the gates. All the small boys in the yard stared at him in silence. He did not even turn round; he only put his cap on in the street. Gavrila sent the same Eroshka to follow him and keep watch on him as a spy. Eroshka, seeing from a distance that he had gone into a cookshop with his dog, waited for him to come out again.
Gerasim was well known at the cookshop, and his signs were understood. He asked for cabbage soup with meat in it, and sat down with his arms on the table. Mumu stood beside his chair, looking calmly at him with her intelligent eyes. Her coat was glossy190; one could see she had just been combed down. They brought Gerasim the soup. He crumbled191 some bread into it, cut the meat up small, and put the plate on the ground. Mumu began eating in her usual refined way, her little muzzle192 daintily held so as scarcely to touch her food. Gerasim gazed a long while at her; two big tears suddenly rolled from his eyes; one fell on the dog's brow, the other into the soup. He shaded his face with his hand. Mumu ate up half the plateful, and came away from it, licking her lips. Gerasim got up, paid for the soup, and went out, followed by the rather perplexed193 glances of the waiter. Eroshka, seeing Gerasim, hid round a corner, and letting him get in front, followed him again.
Gerasim walked without haste, still holding Mumu by a string. When he got to the corner of the street, he stood still as though reflecting, and suddenly set off with rapid steps to the Crimean Ford. On the way he went into the yard of a house, where a lodge was being built, and carried away two bricks under his arm. At the Crimean Ford, he turned along the bank, went to a place where there were two little rowing-boats fastened to stakes (he had noticed them there before), and jumped into one of them with Mumu. A lame84 old man came out of a shed in the corner of a kitchen-garden and shouted after him; but Gerasim only nodded, and began rowing so vigorously, though against stream, that in an instant he had darted194 two hundred yards way. The old man stood for a while, scratched his back first with the left and then with the right hand, and went back hobbling to the shed.
Gerasim rowed on and on. Moscow was soon left behind. Meadows stretched each side of the bank, market gardens, fields, and copses; peasants' huts began to make their appearance. There was the fragrance195 of the country. He threw down his oars196, bent his head down to Mumu, who was sitting facing him on a dry cross seat—the bottom of the boat was full of water—and stayed motionless, his mighty hands clasped upon her back, while the boat was gradually carried back by the current towards the town. At last Gerasim drew himself up hurriedly, with a sort of sick anger in his face, he tied up the bricks he had taken with string, made a running noose, put it round Mumu's neck, lifted her up over the river, and for the last time looked at her. . . . She watched him confidingly197 and without any fear, faintly wagging her tail. He turned away, frowned, and wrung198 his hands. . . . Gerasim heard nothing, neither the quick shrill whine of Mumu as she fell, nor the heavy splash of the water; for him the noisiest day was soundless and silent as even the stillest night is not silent to us. When he opened his eyes again, little wavelets were hurrying over the river, chasing one another; as before they broke against the boat's side, and only far away behind wide circles moved widening to the bank.
Directly Gerasim had vanished from Eroshka's sight, the latter returned home and reported what he had seen.
"Well, then," observed Stepan, "he'll drown her. Now we can feel easy about it. If he once promises a thing . . ."
No one saw Gerasim during the day. He did not have dinner at home.
Evening came on; they were all gathered together to supper, except him.
"What a strange creature that Gerasim is!" piped a fat laundrymaid; "fancy, upsetting himself like that over a dog. . . . Upon my word!"
"But Gerasim has been here," Stepan cried all at once, scraping up his porridge with a spoon.
"How? when?"
"Why, a couple of hours ago. Yes, indeed! I ran against him at the gate; he was going out again from here; he was coming out of the yard. I tried to ask him about his dog, but he wasn't in the best of humors, I could see. Well, he gave me a shove; I suppose he only meant to put me out of his way, as if he'd say, 'Let me go, do!' but he fetched me such a crack on my neck, so seriously, that—oh! oh!" And Stepan, who could not help laughing, shrugged199 up and rubbed the back of his head. "Yes," he added; "he has got a fist; it's something like a fist, there's no denying that!"
They all laughed at Stepan, and after supper they separated to go to bed.
Meanwhile, at that very time, a gigantic figure with a bag on his shoulders and a stick in his hand, was eagerly and persistently200 stepping out along the T—- high-road. It was Gerasim. He was hurrying on without looking round; hurrying homewards, to his own village, to his own country. After drowning poor Mumu, he had run back to his garret, hurriedly packed a few things together in an old horsecloth, tied it up in a bundle, tossed it on his shoulder, and so was ready. He had noticed the road carefully when he was brought to Moscow; the village his mistress had taken him from lay only about twenty miles off the high-road. He walked along it with a sort of invincible201 purpose, a desperate and at the same time joyous202 determination. He walked, his shoulders thrown back and his chest expanded; his eyes were fixed greedily straight before him. He hastened as though his old mother were waiting for him at home, as though she were calling him to her after long wanderings in strange parts, among strangers. The summer night, that was just drawing in, was still and warm; on one side, where the sun had set, the horizon was still light and faintly flushed with the last glow of the vanished day; on the other side a blue-gray twilight203 had already risen up. The night was coming up from that quarter. Quails204 were in hundreds around; corncrakes were calling to one another in the thickets205. . . . Gerasim could not hear them; he could not hear the delicate night-whispering of the trees, by which his strong legs carried him, but he smelt the familiar scent206 of the ripening207 rye, which was wafted208 from the dark fields; he felt the wind, flying to meet him—the wind from home—beat caressingly209 upon his face, and play with his hair and his beard. He saw before him the whitening road homewards, straight as an arrow. He saw in the sky stars innumerable, lighting210 up his way, and stepped out, strong and bold as a lion, so that when the rising sun shed its moist rosy211 light upon the still fresh and unwearied traveller, already thirty miles lay between him and Moscow.
In a couple of days he was at home, in his little hut, to the great astonishment212 of the soldier's wife who had been put in there. After praying before the holy pictures, he set off at once to the village elder. The village elder was at first surprised; but the hay-cutting had just begun; Gerasim was a first-rate mower213, and they put a scythe into his hand on the spot, and he went to mow12 in his old way, mowing214 so that the peasants were fairly astounded215 as they watched his wide sweeping216 strokes and the heaps he raked together. . . .
In Moscow the day after Gerasim's flight they missed him. They went to his garret, rummaged217 about in it, and spoke218 to Gavrila. He came, looked, shrugged his shoulders, and decided that the dumb man had either run away or had drowned himself with his stupid dog. They gave information to the police, and informed the lady. The old lady was furious, burst into tears, gave orders that he was to be found whatever happened, declared she had never ordered the dog to be destroyed, and, in fact, gave Gavrila such a rating that he could do nothing all day but shake his head and murmur219, "Well!" until Uncle Tail checked him at last, sympathetically echoing "We-ell!" At last the news came from the country of Gerasim's being there. The old lady was somewhat pacified220; at first she issued a mandate221 for him to be brought back without delay to Moscow; afterwards, however, she declared that such an ungrateful creature was absolutely of no use to her. Soon after this she died herself; and her heirs had no thought to spare for Gerasim; they let their mother's other servants redeem222 their freedom on payment of an annual rent.
And Gerasim is living still, a lonely man in his lonely hut; he is strong and healthy as before, and does the work of four men as before, and as before is serious and steady. But his neighbors have observed that ever since his return from Moscow he has quite given up the society of women; he will not even look at them, and does not keep even a single dog.
"It's his good luck, though," the peasants reason, "that he can get on without female folk; and as for a dog—what need has he of a dog? you wouldn't get a thief to go into his yard for any money!" Such is the fame of the dumb man's Titanic strength.
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1
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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2
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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3
askew
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| adv.斜地；adj.歪斜的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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5
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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6
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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nag
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| v.(对…)不停地唠叨；n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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8
cleave
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| v．(clave；cleaved)粘着，粘住；坚持；依恋 | |
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9
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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11
scythe
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| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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12
mow
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| v.割（草、麦等），扫射，皱眉；n.草堆，谷物堆 | |
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13
wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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14
flail
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| v.用连枷打；击打；n.连枷（脱粒用的工具） | |
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15
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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16
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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18
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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19
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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20
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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21
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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22
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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23
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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24
wrest
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| n.扭，拧，猛夺；v.夺取，猛扭，歪曲 | |
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25
zealously
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| adv.热心地；热情地；积极地；狂热地 | |
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26
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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27
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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28
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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29
hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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30
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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31
chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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32
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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33
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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34
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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35
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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36
titanic
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| adj.巨人的，庞大的，强大的 | |
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37
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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38
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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39
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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40
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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41
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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42
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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43
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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44
complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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45
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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46
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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47
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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48
moles
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| 防波堤( mole的名词复数 )； 鼹鼠； 痣； 间谍 | |
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49
omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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50
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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51
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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52
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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53
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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54
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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55
starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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57
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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58
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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59
grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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60
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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61
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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62
wiles
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| n.（旨在欺骗或吸引人的）诡计，花招；欺骗，欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
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63
jeers
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| n.操纵帆桁下部（使其上下的）索具；嘲讽( jeer的名词复数 )v.嘲笑( jeer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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64
scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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65
nagging
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| adj.唠叨的，挑剔的；使人不得安宁的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的现在分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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66
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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67
flopped
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| v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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68
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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69
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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71
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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72
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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73
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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74
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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75
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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76
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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77
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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78
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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79
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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80
beverages
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| n.饮料( beverage的名词复数 ) | |
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81
apprenticed
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| 学徒，徒弟( apprentice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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83
contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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84
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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85
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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86
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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87
pacifying
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| 使（某人）安静( pacify的现在分词 )； 息怒； 抚慰； 在（有战争的地区、国家等）实现和平 | |
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88
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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89
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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90
earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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91
chastise
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| vt.责骂，严惩 | |
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92
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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93
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
falteringly
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| 口吃地，支吾地 | |
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95
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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96
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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97
anticipations
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| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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98
sleeplessness
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| n.失眠，警觉 | |
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99
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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100
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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101
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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102
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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103
contingencies
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| n.偶然发生的事故，意外事故( contingency的名词复数 )；以备万一 | |
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104
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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105
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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106
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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107
dirge
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| n.哀乐，挽歌，庄重悲哀的乐曲 | |
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108
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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109
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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110
morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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111
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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112
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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113
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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114
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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115
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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116
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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117
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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118
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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119
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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120
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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121
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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122
devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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123
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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124
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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125
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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126
decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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127
kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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128
pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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129
dependants
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| 受赡养者，受扶养的家属( dependant的名词复数 ) | |
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130
participation
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| n.参与，参加，分享 | |
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131
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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132
knaves
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| n.恶棍，无赖( knave的名词复数 )；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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133
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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134
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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135
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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136
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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137
obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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138
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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139
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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140
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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141
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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142
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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143
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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144
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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145
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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146
trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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147
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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148
locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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149
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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150
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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151
battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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152
pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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153
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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154
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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155
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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156
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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157
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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158
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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159
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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160
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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161
guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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162
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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163
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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164
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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165
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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166
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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167
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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168
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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169
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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170
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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171
fumigated
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| v.用化学品熏（某物）消毒( fumigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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172
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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173
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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174
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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175
narcotic
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| n.麻醉药，镇静剂；adj.麻醉的，催眠的 | |
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176
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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177
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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178
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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179
stifled
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|
| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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180
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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181
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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182
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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183
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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184
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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185
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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186
inquisitively
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| 过分好奇地； 好问地 | |
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187
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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188
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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189
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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190
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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191
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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192
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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193
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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194
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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195
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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196
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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197
confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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198
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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199
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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200
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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201
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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202
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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203
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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204
quails
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| 鹌鹑( quail的名词复数 )； 鹌鹑肉 | |
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205
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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206
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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207
ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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208
wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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209
caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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210
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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211
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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212
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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213
mower
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| n.割草机 | |
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214
mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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215
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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216
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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217
rummaged
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
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218
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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219
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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220
pacified
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| 使（某人）安静( pacify的过去式和过去分词 )； 息怒； 抚慰； 在（有战争的地区、国家等）实现和平 | |
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221
mandate
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| n.托管地；命令，指示 | |
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222
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
参考例句： |
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