“I will go look for a corner of this world where a shunned man can find some sympathy! O women, women! They are all the same!” he thought, as he marched over to the London Restaurant. He intended to get himself drunk.
TWO
LETTERS
I.A SERIOUS QUESTION
My dearest uncle Anisim Petrovitch,
Your neighbor Kurosheyev has just been to visit me and informed me, among other things, that Murdashevitch, from next door to you, returned with his family from abroad a few days ago. This bit of news shocked me all the more as it seemed that the Murdashevitches were going to stay abroad forever. My dearest uncle! If you harbor any love in your heart for your humble nephew, then I beg you, dear, dear uncle, to visit Murdashevitch and find out how his ward, Mashenka, is doing. I am laying bare to you the innermost secret of my soul. It is only you alone I trust! I love Mashenka—I love her passionately, more than my life! Six years of separation have not dampened my feelings for her one iota. Is she alive? Is she well? Please write and tell me how she is! Does she remember me? Does she love me like she used to? May I write her a letter? My dear, dear uncle! Please find out and send me all the details.
Tell her that I am no longer the poor and timid student she once knew—I am now a barrister, with a practice of my own, with money. In a word, to achieve perfect happiness in life I need only one thing—her!
I embrace you, and hope for a speedy reply.
Vladimir Gretchnev
II. A DETAILED RESPONSE
My dearest nephew Vladimir,
I received your letter, and went over to see Murdashe- vitch the very next day. What a great fellow he is! He did age a bit abroad, and has gone somewhat gray, but all these years he kept me, his dear old friend, in his heart, and when I entered he embraced me, looked me in the eye for a long time, and said with a timid, tender cry, “Who are you?” When I told him my family name, he embraced me again, and said, “Now it’s all coming back to me!” What a great fellow! As long as I was there, I had a few drinks and a snack, and then we sat down to a few friendly rounds of Preference. He explained to me all kinds of funny things about foreign countries and had me in stitches with all his droll imitations of the Germans and their funny ways. But in science, he told me, the Germans have gone far. He even showed me a picture he bought on his trip through Italy, of this person of the female sex in a rather strange, indecent dress. And I saw Mashenka too. She was wearing a plush pink-colored gown embellished with all kinds of costly bits and bobs. She does remember you, and her eyes even cried a tear or two when she asked about you. She wants you to write to her, and thanks you for your tender memories and feelings. You wrote that you have your own practice and money! My dear boy, do be careful with that money—be moderate and abstinent! When I was a young man I gave myself up to voluptuous excesses—but only for short periods, and with extreme caution—and yet I still repent!
My very best wishes.
Your loving uncle, Anisim Gretchnev
P.S. Your writing is garbled, but has an eloquent and tempting style. I showed your letter to all the neighbors. They thought you a great storyteller! Vladimir, Father Grigory’s son, copied it out so he can send it to a newspaper. I also showed it to Mashenka and her husband, Uhrmacher, the German she married last year. He read it and was full of praise. I am going to show the letter and read it to others, too. You must write more! Murdashevitch’s caviar is very tasty.
TO SPEAK
OR
BE SILENT:
A TALE
ONCE UPON A TIME in a distant kingdom there lived two friends, Krueger and Smirnov. Krueger had a brilliant mind; Smirnov, on the other hand, was not so clever: he was unassuming, meek, and weak-willed. Krueger was talkative and eloquent, Smirnov tight-lipped.
One day, while traveling on a train, both men tried to win the affections of a young woman in the compartment. Krueger took the seat next to her and ingratiated himself with her, while Smirnov sat silently, blinking, lustfully licking his lips. At the next station Krueger got off with the young woman and didn’t return for quite a while. When he came back, he winked at Smirnov and clicked his tongue.
“You’re so smooth!” Smirnov said to him, full of envy.
“How do you do it? You hardly sat down next to her, and that was that... Lucky you!”
“You keep letting opportunities slip through your fingers! You sat right next to her for three hours, and not a word! Silent as a log! In our world, my friend, silence brings you nothing. You have to be quick on the draw, talkative. Nothing works for you—and why? Because you’re a milksop!”
Smirnov agreed with these arguments, and decided deep in his heart to change his ways. Within the hour, overcoming his timidity, he was sitting next to a gentleman in a blue suit and striking up a lively conversation with him. The gentleman turned out to be extremely talkative and immediately began asking Smirnov all kinds of questions, principally of a scientific nature. He asked him how he liked the land, the sky, was he satisfied with the laws of nature and with society, touching on European trends of free thinking, the status of women in America, and so on. Smirnov answered with wit and enthusiasm.
Imagine how surprised he was when the gendeman in the blue suit grabbed him by the arm at the next station and, smiling spitefully, barked out: “Follow me!”
Smirnov followed him and disappeared. No one knew where he was. Two years later, pale, emaciated, scraggy, like the skeleton of a fish, he ran into Krueger. Smirnov smiled bitterly and told him all the hardships he had been through.
“You mustn’t be an idiot and blab so much!” Krueger said. “You have to know when to hold your tongue!”
AFTER
THE
FAIR
AMERCHANT FROM THE First Traders Guild of Moscow had just returned from the Nizhgorod Fair, and in his pockets his wife found a bunch of torn and tattered papers covered with smudged writing. She managed to make out the following:
Dear Mr. Semyon Ivanovitch:
Mr. Khryapunov, the artiste you beat up, is prepared to reach an out-of-court setdement of 100 rubles. He will not accept one kopeck less. I await your answer.
Sincerely, your lawyer, N. Erzayev.
To the brute who dares call himself a trader:
Having been insulted by you most grossly, I have relegat-ed my complaint to a court of law. As you seem incapable of appreciating who I am, perhaps the justice of the peace or a public trial will teach you to respect me. Erzayev, your lawyer, said that you were not prepared to pay me a hundred rubles. This being the case, I am prepared to accept 75 rubles in com-pensation for your brutish behavior. It is only in lenience for your simplemindedness and to what one could call your animalistic instincts that I am prepared to let you off so cheaply. When an educated man insults me, I charge much more. Khryapunov, artiste
...concerning our demand of 539 rubles and 43 kopecks, the value of the broken mirror and the piano you demolished in the Glukharev Restaurant...
...anoint bruises morning and evening...
...after I manage to sell the ruined fabrics as if they were choice merchandise, I plan to get totally soused! Get yourself over to Feodosyas this evening. See to it that we get Kuzma the musi-cian—and spread some mustard on his head—and that we have four mademoiselles. Get plump ones.
...concerning the IOU—you can take a flying jump! I will gladly proffer a ten-kopeck piece, but concerning the fraudulent bankrupter, well see what we shall see.
Finding you in a state of feverish delirium due to the excessive intake of alcohol (delirium tremens), I applied cupping glasses to your body to bring you back to your senses. For these services I request a fee of three rubles.