Works of Alexander Pushkin (74 page)

“What for?”

“About a mere trifle, over a little song.”

“Fine thing to quarrel over — a little song! How did it happen?”

“Thus. Petr’ Andréjïtch lately composed a song, and he began singing it to me this morning. So I — I struck up mine, ‘Captain’s daughter, don’t go abroad at dead of night!’ As we did not sing in the same key, Petr’ Andréjïtch became angry. But afterwards he reflected that ‘every one is free to sing what he pleases,’ and that’s all.”

Chvabrine’s insolence made me furious, but no one else, except myself, understood his coarse allusions. Nobody, at least, took up the subject. From poetry the conversation passed to poets in general, and the Commandant made the remark that they were all rakes and confirmed drunkards; he advised me as a friend to give up poetry as a thing opposed to the service, and leading to no good.

Chvabrine’s presence was to me unbearable. I hastened to take leave of the Commandant and his family. After coming home I looked at my sword; I tried its point, and I went to bed after ordering Savéliitch to wake me on the morrow at six o’clock.

On the following day, at the appointed hour, I was already behind the haystacks, waiting for my foeman. It was not long before he appeared.

“We may be surprised,” he said to me; “we must make haste.”

We laid aside our uniforms, and in our waistcoats we drew our swords from the scabbard.

At this moment Iwán Ignatiitch, followed by five pensioners, came out from behind a heap of hay. He gave us an order to go at once before the Commandant. We sulkily obeyed. The soldiers surrounded us, and we followed Iwán Ignatiitch who brought us along in triumph, walking with a military step, with majestic gravity.

We entered the Commandant’s house. Iwán Ignatiitch threw the door wide open, and exclaimed, emphatically —

“They are taken!”

Vassilissa Igorofna ran to meet us.

“What does all this mean? Plotting assassination in our very fort! Iván Kouzmitch, put them under arrest at once. Petr’ Andréjïtch, Alexey Iványtch, give up your swords, give them up — give them up. Palashka, take away the swords to the garret. Petr’ Andréjïtch, I did not expect this of you; aren’t you ashamed of yourself? As to Alexey Iványtch, it’s different; he was transferred from the Guard for sending a soul into the other world. He does not believe in our Lord! But do you wish to do likewise?”

Iván Kouzmitch approved of all his wife said, repeating —

“Look there, now, Vassilissa Igorofna is quite right — duels are formally forbidden by martial law.”

Palashka had taken away our swords, and had carried them to the garret.
I could not help laughing. Chvabrine looked grave.

“In spite of all the respect I have for you,” he said, coolly, to the
Commandant’s wife, “I cannot help remarking that you are giving yourself
useless trouble by trying us at your tribunal. Leave this cure do Iván
Kouzmitch — it is his business.”

“What! what! my little father!” retorted the Commandant’s wife, “are not husband and wife the same flesh and spirit? Iván Kouzmitch, are you trifling? Lock them up separately, and keep them on broad and water till this ridiculous idea goes out of their heads. And Father Garasim shall make them do penance that they may ask pardon of heaven and of men.”

Iván Kouzmitch did not know what to do. Marya Ivánofna was very pale. Little by little the storm sank. The Commandant’s wife became more easy to deal with. She ordered us to make friends. Palashka brought us back our swords. We left the house apparently reconciled. Iván Ignatiitch accompanied us.

“Weren’t you ashamed,” I said to him, angrily, “thus to denounce us to the Commandant after giving me your solemn word not to do so?”

“As God is holy,” replied he, “I said nothing to Iván Kouzmitch; it was Vassilissa Igorofna who wormed it all out of me. It was she who took all the necessary measures unknown to the Commandant. As it is, heaven be praised that it has all ended in this way.”

After this reply he returned to his quarters, and I remained alone with
Chvabrine.

“Our affair can’t end thus,” I said to him.

“Certainly not,” rejoined Chvabrine. “You shall wash out your insolence in blood. But they will watch us; we must pretend to be friends for a few days. Good-bye.”

And we parted as if nothing had happened.

Upon my return to the Commandant’s, I sat down according to my custom by Marya Ivánofna; her father was not at home, and her mother was engaged with household cares. We spoke in a low voice Marya Ivánofna reproached me tenderly for the anxiety my quarrel with Chvabrine had occasioned her.

“My heart failed me,” said she, “when they came to tell us that you were going to draw swords on each other. How strange men are! For a word forgotten the next week they are ready to cut each other’s throats, and to sacrifice not only their life, but their honour, and the happiness of those who — But I am sure it was not you who began the quarrel; it was Alexey Iványtch who was the aggressor.”

“What makes you think so, Marya?”

“Why, because — because he is so sneering. I do not like Alexey Iványtch; I even dislike him. Yet, all the same, I should not have liked him to dislike me; it would have made me very uneasy.”

“And what do you think, Marya Ivánofna, does he dislike you or no?”

Marya Ivánofna looked disturbed, and grew very red.

“I think,” she said, at last, “I think he likes me.”

“Why?”

“Because he proposed to me.”

“Proposed to you! When?”

“Last year, two months before you came.”

“And you did not consent?”

“As you see, Alexey Iványtch is a man of wit, and of good family, to be sure, well off, too; but only to think of being obliged to kiss him before everybody under the marriage crown! No, no; nothing in the world would induce me.”

The words of Marya Ivánofna enlightened me, and made many things clear to me. I understood now why Chvabrine so persistently followed her up. He had probably observed our mutual attraction, and was trying to detach us one from another.

The words which had provoked our quarrel seemed to me the more infamous when, instead of a rude and coarse joke, I saw in them a premeditated calumny.

The wish to punish the barefaced liar took more entire possession of me, and I awaited impatiently a favourable moment. I had not to wait long. On the morrow, just as I was busy composing an elegy, and I was biting my pen as I searched for a rhyme, Chvabrine tapped at my window. I laid down the pen, and I took up my sword and left the house.

“Why delay any longer?” said Chvabrine. “They are not watching us any more. Let us go to the river-bank; there nobody will interrupt us.”

We started in silence, and after having gone down a rugged path we halted at the water’s edge and crossed swords.

Chvabrine was a better swordsman than I was, but I was stronger and bolder, and M. Beaupré, who had, among other things, been a soldier, had given me some lessons in fencing, by which I had profited.

Chvabrine did not in the least expect to find in me such a dangerous foeman. For a long while we could neither of us do the other any harm, but at last, noticing that Chvabrine was getting tired, I vigorously attacked him, and almost forced him backwards into the river.

Suddenly I heard my own name called in a loud voice. I quickly turned my head, and saw Savéliitch running towards me down the path. At this moment I felt a sharp prick in the chest, under the right shoulder, and I fell senseless.

CHAPTER V.

LOVE.

When I came to myself I remained some time without understanding what had befallen me, nor where I chanced to be. I was in bed in an unfamiliar room, and I felt very weak indeed. Savéliitch was standing by me, a light in his hand. Someone was unrolling with care the bandages round my shoulder and chest. Little by little my ideas grew clearer. I recollected my duel and guessed without any difficulty that I had been wounded. At this moment the door creaked slightly on its hinges.

“Well, how is he getting on?” whispered a voice which thrilled through me.

“Always the same still,” replied Savéliitch, sighing; “always unconscious, as he has now been these four days.”

I wished to turn, but I had not strength to do so.

“Where am I? Who is there?” I said, with difficulty. Marya Ivánofna came near to my bed and leaned gently over me.

“How do you feel?” she said to me.

“All right, thank God!” I replied in a weak voice. “It is you, Marya
Ivánofna; tell me — ”

I could not finish. Savéliitch exclaimed, joy painted on his face —

“He is coming to himself! — he is coming to himself! Oh! thanks be to heaven! My father Petr’ Andréjïtch, have you frightened me enough? Four days! That seems little enough to say, but — ”

Marya Ivánofna interrupted him.

“Do not talk to him too much, Savéliitch; he is still very weak.”

She went away, shutting the door carefully.

I felt myself disturbed with confused thoughts. I was evidently in the house of the Commandant, as Marya Ivánofna could thus come and see me! I wished to question Savéliitch; but the old man shook his head and turned a deaf ear. I shut my eyes in displeasure, and soon fell asleep. Upon waking I called Savéliitch, but in his stead I saw before me Marya Ivánofna, who greeted me in her soft voice. I cannot describe the delicious feeling which thrilled through me at this moment, I seized her hand and pressed it in a transport of delight, while bedewing it with my tears. Marya did not withdraw it, and all of a sudden I felt upon my cheek the moist and burning imprint of her lips. A wild flame of love thrilled through my whole being.

“Dear, good Marya Ivánofna,” I said to her, “be my wife. Consent to give me happiness.”

She became reasonable again.

“For heaven’s sake, calm yourself,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “You are still in danger; your wound may reopen; be careful of yourself — were it only for my sake.”

After these words she went away, leaving me at the height of happiness.
I felt that life was given back to me.

“She will be mine! She loves me!”

This thought filled all my being.

From this moment I hourly got better. It was the barber of the regiment who dressed my wound, for there was no other doctor in all the fort, and, thank God, he did not attempt any doctoring. Youth and nature hastened my recovery. All the Commandant’s family took the greatest care of me. Marya Ivánofna scarcely ever left me. It is unnecessary to say that I seized the first favourable opportunity to resume my interrupted proposal, and this time Marya heard me more patiently. She naïvely avowed to me her love, and added that her parents would, in all probability, rejoice in her happiness.

“But think well about it,” she used to say to me. “Will there be no objections on the part of your family?”

These words made me reflect. I had no doubt of my mother’s tenderness; but knowing the character and way of thinking of my father, I foresaw that my love would not touch him very much, and that he would call it youthful folly. I frankly confessed this to Marya Ivánofna, but in spite of this I resolved to write to my father as eloquently as possible to ask his blessing. I showed my letter to Marya Ivánofna, who found it so convincing and touching that she had no doubt of success, and gave herself up to the feelings of her heart with all the confidence of youth and love.

I made peace with Chvabrine during the early days of my convalescence.
Iván Kouzmitch said to me, reproaching me for the duel —

“You know, Petr’ Andréjïtch, properly speaking, I ought to put you under arrest; but you are already sufficiently punished without that. As to Alexey Iványtch, he is confined by my order, and under strict guard, in the corn magazine, and Vassilissa Igorofna has his sword under lock and key. He will have time to reflect and repent at his ease.”

I was too happy to cherish the least rancour. I began to intercede for Chvabrine, and the good Commandant, with his wife’s leave, agreed to set him at liberty. Chvabrine came to see me. He expressed deep regret for all that had occurred, declared it was all his fault, and begged me to forget the past. Not being of a rancorous disposition, I heartily forgave him both our quarrel and my wound. I saw in his slander the irritation of wounded vanity and rejected love, so I generously forgave my unhappy rival.

I was soon completely recovered, and was able to go back to my quarters. I impatiently awaited the answer to my letter, not daring to hope, but trying to stifle sad forebodings that would arise. I had not yet attempted any explanation as regarded Vassilissa Igorofna and her husband. But my courtship could be no surprise to them, as neither Marya nor myself made any secret of our feelings before them, and we were sure beforehand of their consent.

At last, one fine day, Savéliitch came into my room with a letter in his hand.

I took it trembling. The address was written in my father’s hand.

This prepared me for something serious, since it was usually my mother who wrote, and he only added a few lines at the end. For a long time I could not make up my mind to break the seal. I read over the solemn address: —

“To my son, Petr’ Andréjïtch Grineff, District of Orenburg, Fort
Bélogorsk.”

I tried to guess from my father’s handwriting in what mood he had written the letter. At last I resolved to open it, and I did not need to read more than the first few lines to see that the whole affair was at the devil. Here are the contents of this letter: —

“My Son Petr’, —

“We received the 15th of this month the letter in which you ask our parental blessing and our consent to your marriage with Marya Ivánofna, the Mironoff daughter. And not only have I no intention of giving you either my blessing or my consent, but I intend to come and punish you well for your follies, like a little boy, in spite of your officer’s rank, because you have shown me that you are not fit to wear the sword entrusted to you for the defence of your country, and not for fighting duels with fools like yourself. I shall write immediately to Andréj Karlovitch to beg him to send you away from Fort Bélogorsk to some place still further removed, so that you may get over this folly.