Complete works of fyodor.., p.664
Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky, page 664
“Hush, or I will make you hush! You are a curse to me. Come, tell me what you are here for? If you were not here I could lie here somehow till morning, and then get away.”
“But I can’t lie here till morning. I am a respectable man, I have family ties, of course.... What do you think, surely he is not going to spend the night here?”
“Who?”
“Why, this old gentleman....”
“Of course he will. All husbands aren’t like you. Some of them spend their nights at home.”
“My dear sir, my dear sir!” cried Ivan Andreyitch, turning cold with terror, “I assure you I spend my nights at home too, and this is the first time; but, my God, I see you know me. Who are you, young man? Tell me at once, I beseech you, from disinterested friendship, who are you?”
“Listen, I shall resort to violence....”
“But allow me, allow me, sir, to tell you, allow me to explain all this horrid business.”
“I won’t listen to any explanation. I don’t want to know anything about it. Be silent or....”
“But I cannot....”
A slight skirmish took place under the bed, and Ivan Andreyitch subsided.
“My love, it sounds as though there were cats hissing.”
“Cats! What will you imagine next?”
Evidently the lady did not know what to talk to her husband about. She was so upset that she could not pull herself together. Now she started and pricked up her ears.
“What cats?”
“Cats, my love. The other day I went into my study, and there was the tom-cat in my study, and hissing shoo-shoo-shoo! I said to him: ‘What is it, pussy?’ and he went shoo-shoo-shoo again, as though he were whispering. I thought, ‘Merciful heavens! isn’t he hissing as a sign of my death?’”
“What nonsense you are talking to-day! You ought to be ashamed, really!”
“Never mind, don’t be cross, my love. I see, you don’t like to think of me dying; I didn’t mean it. But you had better undress and get to bed, my love, and I’ll sit here while you go to bed.”
“For goodness’ sake, leave off; afterwards....”
“Well, don’t be cross, don’t be cross; but really I think there must be mice here.”
“Why, first cats and then mice, I really don’t know what is the matter with you.”
“Oh, I am all right ... Khee ... I ... khee! Never mind ... khee-khee-khee-khee! Oh! Lord have mercy on me ... khee.”
“You hear, you are making such an upset that he hears you,” whispers the young man.
“But if you knew what is happening to me. My nose is bleeding.”
“Let it bleed. Shut up. Wait till he goes away.”
“But, young man, put yourself in my place. Why, I don’t know with whom I am lying.”
“Would you be any better off if you did? Why, I don’t want to know your name. By the way, what is your name?”
“No; what do you want with my name?... I only want to explain the senseless way in which....”
“Hush ... he is speaking again....”
“Really, my love, there is whispering.”
“Oh, no, it’s the cotton wool in your ears has got out of place.”
“Oh, by the way, talking of the cotton wool, do you know that upstairs ... khee-khee ... upstairs ... khee-khee ..,” and so on.
“Upstairs!” whispered the young man. “Oh, the devil! I thought that this was the top storey; can it be the second?”
“Young man,” whispered Ivan Andreyitch, “what did you say? For goodness’ sake why does it concern you? I thought it was the top storey too. Tell me, for God’s sake, is there another storey?”
“Really some one is stirring,” said the old man, leaving off coughing at last.
“Hush! Do you hear?” whispered the young man, squeezing Ivan Andreyitch’s hands.
“Sir, you are holding my hands by force. Let me go!”
“Hush!”
A slight struggle followed and then there was a silence again.
“So I met a pretty woman ..,” began the old man.
“A pretty woman!” interrupted his wife.
“Yes.... I thought I told you before that I met a pretty woman on the stairs, or perhaps I did not mention it? My memory is weak. Yes, St. John’s wort ... khee!”
“What?”
“I must drink St. John’s wort; they say it does good ... khee-khee-khee! It does good!”
“It was you interrupted him,” said the young man, grinding his teeth again.
“You said, you met some pretty woman to-day?” his wife went on.
“Eh?”
“Met a pretty woman?”
“Who did?”
“Why, didn’t you?”
“I? When?”
“Oh, yes!...”
“At last! What a mummy! Well!” whispered the young man, inwardly raging at the forgetful old gentleman.
“My dear sir, I am trembling with horror. My God, what do I hear? It’s like yesterday, exactly like yesterday!...”
“Hush!”
“Yes, to be sure! I remember, a sly puss, such eyes ... in a blue hat....”
“In a blue hat! Aïe, aïe!”
“It’s she! She has a blue hat! My God!” cried Ivan Andreyitch.
“She? Who is she?” whispered the young man, squeezing Ivan Andreyitch’s hands.
“Hush!” Ivan Andreyitch exhorted in his turn. “He is speaking.”
“Ah, my God, my God!”
“Though, after all, who hasn’t a blue hat?”
“And such a sly little rogue,” the old gentleman went on “She comes here to see friends. She is always making eyes. And other friends come to see those friends too....”
“Foo! how tedious!” the lady interrupted. “Really, how can you take interest in that?”
“Oh, very well, very well, don’t be cross,” the old gentleman responded in a wheedling chant. “I won’t talk if you don’t care to hear me. You seem a little out of humour this evening.”
“But how did you get here?” the young man began.
“Ah, you see, you see! Now you are interested, and before you wouldn’t listen!”
“Oh, well, I don’t care! Please don’t tell me. Oh, damnation take it, what a mess!”
“Don’t be cross, young man; I don’t know what I am saying. I didn’t mean anything; I only meant to say that there must be some good reason for your taking such an interest.... But who are you, young man? I see you are a stranger, but who are you? Oh, dear, I don’t know what I am saying!”
“Ugh, leave off, please!” the young man interrupted, as though he were considering something.
“But I will tell you all about it. You think, perhaps, that I will not tell you. That I feel resentment against you. Oh, no! Here is my hand. I am only feeling depressed, nothing more. But for God’s sake, first tell me how you came here yourself? Through what chance? As for me, I feel no ill-will; no, indeed, I feel no ill-will, here is my hand. I have made it rather dirty, it is so dusty here; but that’s nothing, when the feeling is true.”
“Ugh, get away with your hand! There is no room to turn, and he keeps thrusting his hand on me!”
“But, my dear sir, but you treat me, if you will allow me to say so, as though I were an old shoe,” said Ivan Andreyitch in a rush of the meekest despair, in a voice full of entreaty. “Treat me a little more civilly, just a little more civilly, and I will tell you all about it! We might be friends; I am quite ready to ask you home to dinner. We can’t lie side by side like this, I tell you plainly. You are in error, young man, you do not know....”
“When was it he met her?” the young man muttered, evidently in violent emotion. “Perhaps she is expecting me now.... I’ll certainly get away from here!”
“She? Who is she? My God, of whom are you speaking, young man? You imagine that upstairs.... My God, my God! Why am I punished like this?”
Ivan Andreyitch tried to turn on his back in his despair.
“Why do you want to know who she is? Oh, the devil whether it was she or not, I will get out.”
“My dear sir! What are you thinking about? What will become of me?” whispered Ivan Andreyitch, clutching at the tails of his neighbour’s dress coat in his despair.
“Well, what’s that to me? You can stop here by yourself. And if you won’t, I’ll tell them that you are my uncle, who has squandered all his property, so that the old gentleman won’t think that I am his wife’s lover.”
“But that is utterly impossible, young man; it’s unnatural I should be your uncle. Nobody would believe you. Why, a baby wouldn’t believe it,” Ivan Andreyitch whispered in despair.
“Well, don’t babble then, but lie as flat as a pancake! Most likely you will stay the night here and get out somehow to-morrow; no one will notice you. If one creeps out, it is not likely they would think there was another one here. There might as well be a dozen. Though you are as good as a dozen by yourself. Move a little, or I’ll get out.”
“You wound me, young man.... What if I have a fit of coughing? One has to think of everything.”
“Hush!”
“What’s that? I fancy I hear something going on upstairs again,” said the old gentleman, who seemed to have had a nap in the interval.
“Upstairs?”
“Do you hear, young man? I shall get out.”
“Well, I hear.”
“My goodness! Young man, I am going.”
“Oh, well, I am not, then! I don’t care. If there is an upset I don’t mind! But do you know what I suspect? I believe you are an injured husband — so there.”
“Good heavens, what cynicism!... Can you possibly suspect that? Why a husband?... I am not married.”
“Not married? Fiddlesticks!”
“I may be a lover myself!”
“A nice lover.”
“My dear sir, my dear sir! Oh, very well, I will tell you the whole story. Listen to my desperate story. It is not I — I am not married. I am a bachelor like you. It is my friend, a companion of my youth.... I am a lover.... He told me that he was an unhappy man. ‘I am drinking the cup of bitterness,’ he said; ‘I suspect my wife.’ ‘Well,’ I said to him reasonably, ‘why do you suspect her?’... But you are not listening to me. Listen, listen! ‘Jealousy is ridiculous,’ I said to him; ‘jealousy is a vice!’... ‘No,’ he said; ‘I am an unhappy man! I am drinking ... that is, I suspect my wife.’ ‘You are my friend,’ I said; ‘you are the companion of my tender youth. Together we culled the flowers of happiness, together we rolled in featherbeds of pleasure.’ My goodness, I don’t know what I am saying. You keep laughing, young man. You’ll drive me crazy.”
“But you are crazy now....”
“There, I knew you would say that ... when I talked of being crazy. Laugh away, laugh away, young man. I did the same in my day; I, too, went astray! Ah, I shall have inflammation of the brain!”
“What is it, my love? I thought I heard some one sneeze,” the old man chanted. “Was that you sneezed, my love?”
“Oh, goodness!” said his wife.
“Tch!” sounded from under the bed.
“They must be making a noise upstairs,” said his wife, alarmed, for there certainly was a noise under the bed.
“Yes, upstairs!” said the husband. “Upstairs, I told you just now, I met a ... khee-khee ... that I met a young swell with moustaches — oh, dear, my spine! — a young swell with moustaches.”
“With moustaches! My goodness, that must have been you,” whispered Ivan Andreyitch.
“Merciful heavens, what a man! Why, I am here, lying here with you! How could he have met me? But don’t take hold of my face.”
“My goodness, I shall faint in a minute.”
There certainly was a loud noise overhead at this moment.
“What can be happening there?” whispered the young man.
“My dear sir! I am in alarm, I am in terror, help me.”
“Hush!”
“There really is a noise, my love; there’s a regular hubbub. And just over your bedroom, too. Hadn’t I better send up to inquire?”
“Well, what will you think of next?”
“Oh, well, I won’t; but really, how cross you are to-day!...”
“Oh, dear, you had better go to bed.”
“Liza, you don’t love me at all.”
“Oh, yes, I do! For goodness’ sake, I am so tired.”
“Well, well; I am going!”
“Oh, no, no; don’t go!” cried his wife; “or, no, better go!”
“Why, what is the matter with you! One minute I am to go, and the next I’m not! Khee-khee! It really is bedtime, khee-khee! The Panafidins’ little girl ... khee-khee ... their little girl ... khee ... I saw their little girl’s Nuremburg doll ... khee-khee....”
“Well, now it’s dolls!”
“Khee-khee ... a pretty doll ... khee-khee.”
“He is saying good-bye,” said the young man; “he is going, and we can get away at once. Do you hear? You can rejoice!”
“Oh, God grant it!”
“It’s a lesson to you....”
“Young man, a lesson for what!... I feel it ... but you are young, you cannot teach me.”
“I will, though.... Listen.”
“Oh, dear, I am going to sneeze!...”
“Hush, if you dare.”
“But what can I do, there is such a smell of mice here; I can’t help it. Take my handkerchief cut of my pocket; I can’t stir.... Oh, my God, my God, why am I so punished?”
“Here’s your handkerchief! I will tell you what you are punished for. You are jealous. Goodness knows on what grounds, you rush about like a madman, burst into other people’s flats, create a disturbance....”
“Young man, I have not created a disturbance.”
“Hush!”
“Young man, you can’t lecture to me about morals, I am more moral than you.”
“Hush!”
“Oh, my God — oh, my God!”
“You create a disturbance, you frighten a young lady, a timid woman who does not know what to do for terror, and perhaps will be ill; you disturb a venerable old man suffering from a complaint and who needs repose above everything — and all this what for? Because you imagine some nonsense which sets you running all over the neighbourhood! Do you understand what a horrid position you are in now?”
“I do very well, sir! I feel it, but you have not the right....”
“Hold your tongue! What has right got to do with it? Do you understand that this may have a tragic ending? Do you understand that the old man, who is fond of his wife, may go out of his mind when he sees you creep out from under the bed? But no, you are incapable of causing a tragedy! When you crawl out, I expect every one who looks at you will laugh. I should like to see you in the light; you must look very funny.”
“And you. You must be funny, too, in that case. I should like to have a look at you too.”
“I dare say you would!”
“You must carry the stamp of immorality, young man.”
“Ah! you are talking about morals, how do you know why I’m here? I am here by mistake, I made a mistake in the storey. And the deuce knows why they let me in, I suppose she must have been expecting some one (not you, of course). I hid under the bed when I heard your stupid footsteps, when I saw the lady was frightened. Besides, it was dark. And why should I justify myself to you. You are a ridiculous, jealous old man, sir. Do you know why I don’t crawl out? Perhaps you imagine I am afraid to come out? No, sir, I should have come out long ago, but I stay here from compassion for you. Why, what would you be taken for, if I were not here? You’d stand facing them, like a post, you know you wouldn’t know what to do....”
“Why like that object? Couldn’t you find anything else to compare me with, young man? Why shouldn’t I know what to do? I should know what to do.”
“Oh, my goodness, how that wretched dog keeps barking!”
“Hush! Oh, it really is.... That’s because you keep jabbering. You’ve waked the dog, now there will be trouble.”
The lady’s dog, who had till then been sleeping on a pillow in the corner, suddenly awoke, sniffed strangers and rushed under the bed with a loud bark.
“Oh, my God, what a stupid dog!” whispered Ivan Andreyitch; “it will get us all into trouble. Here’s another affliction!”
“Oh, well, you are such a coward, that it may well be so.”
“Ami, Ami, come here,” cried the lady; “ici, ici.” But the dog, without heeding her, made straight for Ivan Andreyitch.
“Why is it Amishka keeps barking?” said the old gentleman. “There must be mice or the cat under there. I seem to hear a sneezing ... and pussy had a cold this morning.”
“Lie still,” whispered the young man. “Don’t twist about! Perhaps it will leave off.”
“Sir, let go of my hands, sir! Why are you holding them?”
“Hush! Be quiet!”
“But mercy on us, young man, it will bite my nose. Do you want me to lose my nose?”
A struggle followed, and Ivan Andreyitch got his hands free. The dog broke into volleys of barking. Suddenly it ceased barking and gave a yelp.
“Aïe!” cried the lady.
“Monster! what are you doing?” cried the young man. “You will be the ruin of us both! Why are you holding it? Good heavens, he is strangling it! Let it go! Monster! You know nothing of the heart of women if you can do that! She will betray us both if you strangle the dog.”
But by now Ivan Andreyitch could hear nothing. He had succeeded in catching the dog, and in a paroxysm of self-preservation had squeezed its throat. The dog yelled and gave up the ghost.
“We are lost!” whispered the young man.
“Amishka! Amishka,” cried the lady. “My God, what are they doing with my Amishka? Amishka! Amishka! Ici! Oh, the monsters! Barbarians! Oh, dear, I feel giddy!”
“What is it, what is it?” cried the old gentleman, jumping up from his easy chair. “What is the matter with you, my darling? Amishka! here, Amishka! Amishka! Amishka!” cried the old gentleman, snapping with his fingers and clicking with his tongue, and calling Amishka from under the bed. “Amishka, ici, ici. The cat cannot have eaten him. The cat wants a thrashing, my love, he hasn’t had a beating for a whole month, the rogue. What do you think? I’ll talk to Praskovya Zaharyevna. But, my goodness, what is the matter, my love? Oh, how white you are! Oh, oh, servants, servants!” and the old gentleman ran about the room.
