Forty Stories - Anton Chekhov [42]
Wife of 2nd: Please keep quiet! They are all staring at you!
2nd: Let them stare at me! I paid for my seat with my own money, not with someone else’s.… And if I have to unburden myself, you don’t have to nag!… He’s gone now.… Well, I won’t say another word.… If he hadn’t sailed into me, I wouldn’t have started talking, would I? Wouldn’t have any reason for talking.… I know that.… (Applauds.) Bis! Bis!
1st, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th (as though they had sprung out of the ground): Come on now! Out you go!
2nd: Why? Where? (Turning pale.) What’s the reason for all this?
1st, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th: Come on now! (They take him by the arms.) Don’t kick out with your legs! Forward, march! (They drag him off.)
2nd: I paid with my own money, didn’t I?… It’s a rotten shame!…
Voice from public: Seems they just arrested a thief.
October 1884
To His Excellency
The Commissioner of Police
of the Second Class
A Report
I have the honor to inform Your Excellency that in the Mikhalkovo Woods, not far from the Old Ravine, while crossing the footbridge I observed the hanged body of a dead man showing no signs of life, bearing the name, according to documents found in his possession, of Stepan Maximov Kachagov, 51 years old. From the state of his wallet and his rags, he was clearly in an impecunious condition. Except for the rope I found no other marks on his body, while all his effects were still in his possession. No motive for the suicide was disclosed, but these things happen from vodka. The peasants of Zhabrovo saw him leaving the pothouse. Should I make an official report, or await the coming of Your Excellency?
Policeman Denis Ch.
March 1885
The Threat
A NOBLEMAN’S horse was stolen. The next day the following announcement appeared in all the newspapers: “Unless the horse is returned to my possession, I shall be forced to have recourse to the extreme measures formerly employed by my father in similar circumstances.” The threat was effective. The thief, not knowing exactly what was in store, but supposing he would fall victim to some extraordinary and fearful punishment, became panic-stricken, and he secretly returned the horse. The nobleman rejoiced in the successful issue of the affair, and told his friends how very glad he was that he would not have to follow his father’s example.
“What did your father do?” they asked him.
“You are asking me what my father did, eh? Well, I’ll tell you. He was staying in lodgings when they stole his horse. He threw the saddle over his shoulders and walked home on foot. I’d swear I would have had to do the same thing, if the thief had not been so obliging.”
May 1885
The Huntsman
NOON, hot and stifling, with no clouds in the sky. The sunburned grass had a dismal, hopeless look. Even if the rains came, it was doubtful whether the grass would ever be green again. The forest was silent, motionless, as though gazing out from the treetops or waiting for something to happen.
At the edge of the clearing a tall, narrow-shouldered man of forty, wearing a red shirt, patched trousers which had evidently once belonged to a gentleman, and high leather boots, was sauntering along a pathway with lazy, shambling strides. To the right was the green of the clearing, to the left a golden sea of ripened rye stretching to the horizon. His face was ruddy and sweating. A white cap with a straight visor, like those worn by jockeys, perched jauntily on his handsome blond head—the cap must have been the gift of a generous young nobleman. Over his shoulder hung a game bag with a crumpled woodcock lying in it. The man was holding a double-barreled shotgun in his hand, both barrels cocked, and he was screwing up his eyes as he followed the ancient and lean hunting dog which was running on ahead, sniffing at the bushes. There was silence all round, not a sound anywhere. Every living