The Diary of a Superfluous Man, and Other Stories

"What sins hast thou, Semyónitch?" – articulated Avdótya, timidly.

"Well, wife, I know what they are."

"But in whose care wilt thou leave me, Semyónitch? How am I to live without a husband?"

"In whose care shall I leave thee? Ekh, Aréfyevna, how thou sayest that, forsooth! Much need hast thou of a husband like me, and an old man and a ruined one to boot. The idea! Thou has dispensed with me before, thou canst dispense with me hereafter also. And what property we have left thou mayest take for thyself, curse it!.."

"As thou wilt, Semyónitch," – replied Avdótya, sadly; – "thou knowest best about that."

"Exactly so. Only, don't think that I am angry with thee, Aréfyevna.

"No, what 's the use of being angry, when … I ought to have discovered how things stood earlier in the day. I myself am to blame – and I am punished." – (Akím heaved a sigh.) – "As you have made your bed, so you must lie upon it.[44 - In Russian: "If you are fond of sleighing, then be fond also of dragging the sledge." – Translator.] I am advanced in years, and 't is time for me to be thinking of my soul. The Lord Himself has brought me to my senses. Here was I, seest thou, an old fool, who wanted to live at his ease with a young wife… No, brother – old man, first do thou pray, and beat thy brow against the earth, and be patient, and fast… And now, go, my mother. I am very tired and I will get a bit of sleep."

And Akím stretched himself out, grunting on the bench.

Avdótya started to say something, stood for a while gazing at him, then turned and went away…

"Well, did n't he thrash thee?" – Petróvitch asked her, as he sat, all bent double, on the earthen bank, when she came alongside of him. Avdótya passed him in silence. – "See there now, he did n't beat her," – said the old man to himself, as he grinned, ruffled up his hair, and took a pinch of snuff.

Akím carried out his purpose. He speedily put his petty affairs in order, and a few days after the conversation which we have transcribed, he went, already garbed for the journey, to bid farewell to his wife, who had settled for the time being in a tiny wing of the mistress's manor-house. Their leave-taking did not last long… Kiríllovna, who chanced to be on hand, advised Akím to present himself to the mistress; and he did so. Lizavéta Prókhorovna received him with a certain amount of confusion, but affably permitted him to kiss her hand, and inquired where he was intending to betake himself? He replied that he was going first to Kíeff, and thence wherever God should grant. She lauded his purpose, and dismissed him. From that time forth he rarely made his appearance at home, although he never forgot to bring his mistress a blessed bread with a particle taken out for her health…[45 - Tiny double loaves of leavened bread, like those used in preparing the Holy Communion, are sold at the entrances to churches. Any one who wishes to have the health of his living or the souls of his dead friend prayed for, buys a loaf, and sends it to the sanctuary before the beginning of the morning service, accompanied by a slip of paper, whereon is written: "For the health" (or "For the soul") "of Iván" – or whatever the friend's baptismal name may be. The priest removes from the loaf with his spear-shaped knife a triangular particle, which he places on the chalice (it is not used in the Communion), and at a certain point of the service, all these persons are prayed for, by name – the Lord being aware which of the Iváns or Máryas is intended. After the service the loaf is returned to the owner, who carries it home, and (when possible) gives it to the person who has been prayed for. It is the custom for pilgrims to the various shrines to bring back loaves of this sort to their friends, and these are highly prized. At some of the famous monasteries, instead of the customary imprint of a cross and the Greek letters meaning "Jesus Christ the Conqueror," which are used on the loaves for the Communion, a special holy bread (prosforá) is prepared for this purpose, stamped with the Saint or Saints for which the locality is renowned. In the primitive church, the worshippers were wont to bring offerings of bread, wine, oil and wheat, for the requirements of the service. As long as the congregations were not numerous, all such givers were prayed for by name. When members became so numerous that this would have been burdensome, the custom was instituted of praying for the Sovereign and his family, as representatives of all the rest: and this last custom still prevails, mingled (as above described) with a remnant of the original custom. – Translator.] But, on the other hand, everywhere where devout Russians congregate, his gaunt and aged but still comely and sedate face was to be seen: at the shrine of St. Sergius, and on the White Shores, and in the Óptin Hermitage, and in distant Valaám.[46 - The shrine of St. Sergius at the Tróitzky (Trinity) monastery, forty miles from Moscow. The Óptin Hermitage in Tambóff Government. "The White Shores" – the famous monasteries of Solovétzk, in the White Sea, and at Byélo-Ózero (White Lake), south of Lake Onéga. Valáam, an island in Lake Ladóga, with another famous monastery. – Translator.] He went everywhere… This year he passed you in the ranks of the countless throng which marched in a procession of the cross behind the holy picture of the Birth-giver of God at the Korennáya Hermitage;[47 - The Korennáya Hermitage lies about sixteen miles northwest of Kursk, in southern Russia. Mtzensk, nearer the centre, is half-way between Orél and Túla. – Translator.] next year you would find him sitting with his wallet on his back, along with other pilgrims on the porch of St. Nicholas the Wonder-Worker in Mtzensk… He made his appearance in Moscow nearly every spring.

From place to place he trudged with his quiet, unhurried but unceasing stride – 't is said that he even went to Jerusalem… He appeared to be perfectly composed and happy, and many persons talked about his piety and humility, especially those people who had chanced to converse with him.

In the meanwhile, Naúm's affairs throve exceedingly. He took hold briskly and understandingly, and, as the saying is, went to the head fast. Everybody in the neighbourhood knew by what means he had acquired possession of the inn, and they knew also that Avdótya had given him her husband's money; no one liked Naúm because of his cold and harsh character… They narrated with condemnation concerning him that one day he had replied to Akím himself, who had begged alms under his window, "God will provide," and had brought out nothing to him; but all agreed that no more lucky man than he existed; his grain throve better than his neighbours' grain; his bees swarmed more abundantly; even his hens laid more eggs; his cattle never fell ill; his horses never went lame… For a long time Avdótya could not endure to hear his name (she had accepted Lizavéta Prókhorovna's offer, and had again entered her service in the capacity of head-seamstress); but eventually, her aversion diminished somewhat; 't was said that want forced her to have recourse to him, and he gave her a hundred rubles… We shall not condemn her too severely; poverty will break any one's spirit, and the sudden revolution in her life had aged and tamed her down greatly; it is difficult to believe how quickly she lost her good looks, how she grew disheartened and low-spirited…

"And how did it all end?" – the reader will ask.

Thus: Naúm, after having conducted his business successfully for fifteen years, sold his inn on profitable terms to a petty burgher… He never would have parted with his house if the following apparently insignificant incident had not occurred: two mornings in succession his dog, as it sat in front of the windows, howled in a prolonged and mournful manner; on the second occasion he went out into the street, gazed attentively at the howling dog, shook his head, set off for the town, and that very day agreed on the price with a petty burgher, who had long been trying to purchase his inn… A week later he departed for some distant place – out of the Government, – and what think you? that very night the inn was burned to the ground; not even a kennel remained intact, and Naúm's successor was reduced to beggary. The reader can easily imagine what rumours arose in the neighbourhood concerning this conflagration… Evidently he carried his "luck" away with him, all declared… It is reported that he engaged in the grain business, and became very wealthy. But was it for long? Other equally firm pillars have fallen prone, and sooner or later a bad deed has a bad ending.

It is not worth while to say much about Lizavéta Prókhorovna: she is alive to this day, and as often happens with people of that sort, she has not changed in the least; she has not even aged much, but only seems to have grown more lean; moreover, her penuriousness has increased to an extreme degree, although it is difficult to understand for whom she is always hoarding, since she has no children, and is related to no one. In conversation she frequently alludes to Akím, and avers that ever since she discovered all his fine qualities, she has come to cherish a great respect for the Russian peasant. Kiríllovna has purchased her freedom from Lizavéta Prókhorovna for a considerable sum and has married, for love, some fair-haired young butler or other, at whose hands she endures bitter torture; Avdótya is living, as of yore, in the woman's wing of Lizavéta Prókhorovna's house, but has descended several rungs lower, dresses very poorly, almost filthily, and retains not a trace of the cityfied affectations of the fashionable maid, or the habits of a well-to-do landlady… No one takes any notice of her, and she herself is glad that they do not; old Petróvitch is dead, but Akím is still roving on pilgrimages – and God alone knows how much longer he is destined to wander!

notes

1

The word used is, literally, "self-fool." It was invented by Ostróvsky, in one of his most famous comedies. – Translator.

2

Some authorities assert positively that the incident narrated occurred in the Turgénieff household, and that Gerásim's mistress was the author's own mother. – Translator.

3

Sheep's-Waters or Springs. – Translator.

4

Easter. – Translator.

5

A decidedly vulgar pun in the original. – Translator.

6

Derived from tchulók, stocking. – Translator.

7

Meaning male serfs. The women and children were not reckoned. – Translator.

8

The large music-room, also used for dancing, as a play-room for the children in winter, and so forth, in Russian houses. – Translator.

9

By M. Y. Lérmontoff.

10

The pronunciation is also indicated as being faulty. – Translator.

11

Ran themselves off their legs. – Translator.

12

The mazurka, which is still a great favourite in Russia, greatly resembles the cotillon in everything except the steps, which are vivacious. Both the cotillon and the mazurka are danced – one before, the other after supper – at Court balls and other dances. – Translator.

13

Utterly insignificant. – Translator.

14

The page is called a kazák, and dressed accordingly. – Translator.

15

The burlakí on the Volga used to tow the barges from Ástrakhan to Nízhni Nóvgorod Fair, against the current. The stevedores also are called burlakí, and, as they lade the barges, their chantey runs (more literally than I have translated it above): "Yet another little time, yet again…" and so forth. – Translator.

16

A ruble, at the present time, is worth, on an average, about fifty-two cents. At the period here referred to, the silver ruble would purchase more than a ruble nowadays, while the paper ruble was worth very little. – Translator.

17