Ward Number Six and Other Stories

When I took their coffee into the study Orlov was standing with his back to the fire, and she was sitting in an arm-chair facing him.

'No, I am not in a bad mood,' she was saying in French. 'But I've started putting two and two together now, and I understand the whole thing. I can name the day, and even the hour, when she stole my watch. And what about that purse? There's no room for doubt.'

She laughed and accepted some coffee from me. 'Oh, now I understand why I'm always loang my handkerchiefs and gloves. Say what you like, I'm going to dismiss that thieving magpie tomorrow and send Stephen for my Sophia. Sophia doesn't steal and she hasn't such an, er, repulsive appearance.'

'You're in a bad mood. Tomorrow you'll feel differently, and you'll realize that one can't just dismiss a person simply on suspicion.'

'It's not suspicion, I'm absolutely certain,' said Zinaida. 'While I suspected this plebeian with the sorrowful countenance, this valet of yours, I said not a word. I am hurt that you don't trust me, George.'

'If we disagree about something it doesn't follow that I mistrust you.

'Let us suppose you're right,' said Orlov, tu^rng to the fire and throwing his cigarette-end in it. 'Even so, there is still no need to get excited. Actually, to be perfectly fr^ik, I had never expected my humble establishment to cause you so much serious worry and upset. If you have lost a gold coin, never mind, I'll give you a hundred gold coins. But to alter my routine, to pick a new maid off the streets and wait for her to learn the ropes ... it all takes time, it's boring, and it's not my line. Our present maid is fat, admittedly, and she may have a weakness for gloves and handkerchiefs, but she is also well-behaved and well-trained, and she doesn't squeak when Kukushkin pinches her.'

'In other words you can't bear to part with her. Then why not say so ?'

'Are you jealous?'

'Yes, I am,' Zinaida said decisively.

'Most grateful, I'm sure.'

'Yes, I amjealous,' she repeated, and tears gleamed in her eyes. 'No, this isn't jealousy, it's something worse. I don't know what to call it.'

She clutched her temples. 'Men are so foul,' she continued impetuously. 'It's awful.'

'I don't know what you find so awful.'

'I've never seen it and1 know nothing about it, but you men are said to start off with housemaids when you are quite small, after which you get used to it and no longer feel any repugnance. I know nothing whatever about it, but I've even read that '

Then she adopted a fondly wheedling tone and went up to Orlov. 'You're so right, of course, George, I really am in a bad mood today. I can't help it, though, you must see that. She disgusts me, and I'm afraid of her. I can't bear the sight of her.'

'Surely you can rise above such trivialities,' said Orlov, shrugging his shoulders in perplexity and moving away from the fire. 'It's simple enough, isn't it?Just take no notice ofher, then she won't disgust you— and you won't need to dramatize these pin-pricks either.'

I left the study, and what answer Orlov received I do not know. Whatever it was, Polya stayed on. After this Zinaida never asked her to do anything, obviously trying to dispense with her services. When Polya handed her anything—or merely • passed by, even, her bangle jingling, her skirts crackling—Zinaida shuddered.

Had Gruzin or Pekarsky asked Orlov to discharge Polya he would have done so without turning a hair, I think, nor would he have troubled to give any explanation whatever, being complaisant, like all apathetic people. But with Zinaida he was stubborn even over trifles for some reason: to the point of sheer pig-headedness on occasion. So ifZinaida took a liking to anything he was sure to dislike it, I knew that by now. When she came back from shopping eager to show off her new purchases he would give them a passing glance, remarking icily that the more the flat was cluttered up with rubbish the less air there was to breathe. Sometimes he would put on evening dress to go out and would say good-bye to Zinaida, but would then suddenly decide to stay at home out of sheer perversity. At such times he only stayed in so that he could be miserable, I felt.

'But why stay in ?' Zinaida would ask with pretended annoyance, yet radiant with pleasure. 'Now, why? You arc not used to staying in of an evening, and I don't want you to change your habits on my account. So do go out, please, or else I shall feel guilty.'

'No one's blaming you for anything, are they?' Orlov would ask.

He would sprawl in his study arm-chair with a martyred look and take up a book, shielding his eyes with his hand. But soon the book would fall from his grasp, he would turn heavily in his chair and put his hand up again as if to keep the sun out of his eyes. Now he was annoyed with himself for not having gone out.

'May I come in?' Zinaida would ask, hesitantly entering the study. 'Are you reading ? I was a bit bored, so I've looked in for a moment just for a peep.'

I remember her coming in one evening in this same hesitant fashion and at some ill-chosen moment. She sank on the rug at Orlov's feet, and her gentle, timorous movements showed that his mood puzzled and scared her.

'You are always reading,' she began artfully, with an obvious wish to flatter. 'Do you know the secret of your success, George ? You're an intelligent, educated man. What book have you there?'

Orlov answered. Some minutes passed in silence: minutes which seemed hours to me. I was standing in the drawing-room where I could watch them both, and I was afraid of coughing.

'There is something I wanted to tell you,' Zinaida softly announced, and laughed. 'Shall I? You may laugh at me, you may say I'm flattering myself, but you know, I do so terribly much want to think you stayed in tonight on my be!Ialf, so that we could spend the evening together. Did you? May I think that?'

'Pray do,' said Orlov, screening his eyes. 'True happiness lies in the capacity to conceive things not only as they are, but also as they are not.'

'That was a very long sentence, I didn't quite understand it. Do you mean that happy people live in their imaginations? That is certainly true. I like sitting in your study in the evenings and letting my thoughts carry me far, far away. It's nice to day-dream a little. Shall we dream aloud together, George?'

'Never having attended a girls' boarding school, I am unacquainted with the technique.'

'You're in a bad mood, are you?' Zinaida asked, taking Orlov's hand. 'Tell me, why? I am afraid of you when you're like this. I don't know whether you have a headache or are angry with me '

More long minutes passed in silence.

'Why have you changed?' she asked softly. 'Why aren't you so tender and cheerful any more, as you were in Znamensky Square? I havelived with you foramonth, nearly, but I feel wehaven't begun living yet, we haven't had a proper talk. You always fob me offwithjokes or with long, bleak answers like a teacher's. There's something bleak about your jokes too. Why have you stopped speaking to me seriously?'

'I always speak seriously.'

'Well, let's have a talk. For God's sake, George.'

'Carry on then. What shall we talk about.'

'About our life, our future,' said Zinaida dreamily. 'I keep making plans for the future, I always enjoy that. I'll start by asking when you mean to give up your job, George.'

'But why ever should I?' Orlov asked, removing his hand from his forehead.

'No one with your views can work for the government, you're out of place there.'

'My views?' Orlov asked. 'What views ? By conviction and temperament I am an ordinary civil servant: a typical red-tape merchant. You are mistaking me for someone else, I venture to assure you.'

'You're joking again, George.'

'Not a bit of it. The Civil Service may not satisfy me, but still it does suit me better than anything else. I am used to it, and I'm with people of my o^n sort there. There at least I'm not an odd-man-out, and I feel reasonably all right.'

'You hate the Civil Service, it sickens you.'