“A few days ago a couple of peasants brought complaints from the whole estate.
He has wasted all the property,’ they say. What do you think? he pondered over the complaints, and gave the peasants ten rubles apiece. Says he,I’ll be there very soon. I shall have some money, and I will settle all accounts when I come,’ says he.
“But how can he settle accounts when we are getting into debt all the time? Money or no money, yet the winter here has cost eighty thousand rubles, and now there isn’t a silver ruble in the house. And allowing to his kind-heartedness. You see, he’s such a simple barin that it would be hard to find his equal; that’s the very reason that he’s going to ruin, going to ruin, all for nothing.”
And the old man almost wept.
Nekhliudof woke up about eleven, and called me in.
“They haven’t sent me any money yet,” says he, “But it isn’t my fault. Shut the door,” says he.
I shut the door.
“Here,” says he, “take my watch or this diamond pin, and pawn it. They will give you more than one hundred and eighty rubles for it, and when I get my money I will redeem it,” says he.
“No matter, sir,” says I. “If you don’t happen to have any money, it’s no consequence; let me have the watch, if you don’t mind. I can wait for your convenience.”
I can see that the watch is worth more than three hundred.
Very good. I pawned the watch for a hundred rubles, and carried him the ticket.
“ ou will owe me eighty rubles,” says I, “and you had better redeem the watch.”
And so it happened that he still owed me eighty rubles.
After that he began to come to us again every day. I don’t know how matters stood between him and the prince, but at all events he kept coming with him all the time, or else they would go and play cards up-stairs with Fedotka. And what queer accounts those three men kept between them! this one would lend money to the other, the other to the third, yet who it was that owed the money you never could find out.
And in this way he kept on coming our way for well-nigh two years; only it was to be plainly seen that he was a changed man, such a devil-may-care manner he assumed at times. He even went so far at times as to borrow a ruble of me to pay a hack-driver; and yet he would still play with the prince for a hundred rubles’ stake.
He grew gloomy, thin, sallow. As soon as he came he used to order a little glass of absinthe, take a bite of something, and drink some port wine, and then he would grow more lively.
He came one time before dinner; it happened to be carnival time, and he began to play with a hussar.
Says he, “Do you want to play for a stake?”
“Very well,” says he. “What shall it be?”
“A bottle of Claude Vougeaux? What do you say?”
“ ll right.”
Very good. The hussar won, and they went off for their dinner. They sat down at table, and then Nekhliudof says, “Simon, a bottle of Claude Vougeaux, and see that you warm it to the proper point.”
Simon went out, brought in the dinner, but no wine.
“Well,” says he, “where ‘s the wine?”
Simon hurried out, brought in the roast.
“Let us have the wine,” says he.
Simon makes no reply.
“What’s got into you ? Here we’ve almost finished dinner, and no wine. Who wants to drink with dessert?”
Simon hurried out.
“The landlord,” says he, “wants to speak to you.”
Nekhliudof turned scarlet. He sprang up from the table.
“What’s the need of calling me?”
The landlord is standing at the door.
Says he, “I can’t trust you any more, unless you settle my little bill.”
“Well, didn’t I tell you that I would pay the first of the month?”
“That will be all very well,” says the landlord, “but I can’t be all the time giving credit, and having no settlement. There are more than ten thousand rubles of debts outstanding now,” says he.
“Well, that’ll do, monshoor, you know that you can trust me! Send the bottle, and I assure you that I will pay you very soon.”
And he hurried back.
“What was it? why did they call you out?” asked the hussar.
“Oh, some one wanted to ask me a question.”
“Now it would be a good time,” says the hussar, “ to have a little warm wine to drink.”
“Simon, hurry up!”
Simon came back, but still no wine, nothing. Too bad! He left the table, and came to me.
“For God’s sake,” says he, “Petrushka, let me have six rubles!”
He was pale as a sheet.
“No, sir,” says I; “by God, you owe me quite too much now.”
“I will give forty rubles for six, in a week’s time.”
“If only I had it,” says I, “I should not think of refusing you, but I haven’t.”
What do you think! He rushed away, his teeth set, his fist doubled up, and ran down the corridor like one mad, and all at once he gave himself a knock on the forehead.
“O my God!” says he, “ hat has it come to?”
But he did not return to the dining-room; he jumped into a carriage, and drove away. Didn’t we have our laugh over it! The hussar asks:
“Where is the gentleman who was dining with me?”
“He has gone,” said some one.
“Where has he gone? What message did he leave?”
“He didn’t leave any; he just took to his carriage, and went off.”
“That’s a fine way of entertaining a man!” says he.
Now, thinks I to myself, it’ll be a long time before he comes again after this; that is, on account of this scandal. But no. On the next day he came about evening. He came into the billiard-room. He had a sort of a box in his hand. Took off his overcoat.
“Now, let us have a game,” says he.
He looked out from under his eyebrows, rather fierce like.
We played one game.
“That’s enough now,” says he; “go and bring me a pen and paper; I must write a letter.”
Not thinking anything, not suspecting anything, I bring some paper, and put it on the table in the little room.
“It ‘s all ready, sir,” says I.
“Very good.”
He sat down at the table. He kept on writing and writing, and muttering to himself all the time; then he jumps up, and, frowning, says:
“Look and see if my carriage has come yet.”
It was on a Friday, during carnival time, and so there weren’t any of the customers on hand; they were all at some ball. I went to see about the carriage, and just as I was going out of the door, “Petrushka! Petrushka!” he shouted, as if something suddenly frightened him.
I turn round. I see he’s pale as a sheet, standing there, and looking at me.
“Did you call me, sir?” says I.
He made no reply.
“What do you want?” says I.
He says nothing.
“Oh, yes!” says he. “Let ‘s have another game.”
Then, says he:
“Haven’t I learned to play pretty well?”
He had just won the game. “ Yes,” says I.
“All right,” says he; “go now, and see about my carriage.”
He himself walked up and down the room.
Without thinking anything, I went down to the door. I didn’t see any carriage at all. I started to go up again.
Just as I was going up, I heard what sounded like the thud of a billiard-cue. I went into the billiard-room. I noticed a peculiar smell.
I looked around; and there he was, lying on the floor, in a pool of blood, with a pistol beside him. I was that scared that I could not speak a word.
He kept twitching, twitching his leg, and stretched himself a little. Then he sort of snored, and stretched out his full length in such a strange way.
And God knows why such a sin came about, — how it was that it occurred to him to ruin his own soul, — but as to what he left written on this paper, I don’t understand it at all.
Truly, you can never account for what is going on in the world.
“God gave me all that a man can desire, wealth, name, intellect, noble aspirations. I wanted to enjoy myself, and I trod in the mire all that was best in me.
“I have done nothing dishonorable, I am not unfortunate, I have not committed any crime; but I have done worse: I have destroyed my feelings, my intellect, my youth.
“I became entangled in a filthy net, from which I cannot escape, and to which I cannot accustom myself. I feel that I am falling lower and lower every moment, and I cannot stop my fall.
“ And what ruined me? Was there in me some strange passion which I might plead as an excuse? No!
“…My recollections are pleasant.
“One fearful moment of forgetfulness, which can never be erased from my mind, led me to come to my senses. I shuddered when I saw what a measureless abyss separated me from what I desired to be, and might have been. In my imagination arose the hopes, the dreams, and the thoughts of my youth.
“ Where are those lofty thoughts of life, of eternity, of God, which at times filled my soul with light and strength? Where that aimless power of love which kindled my heart with its comforting warmth?
“…But how good and happy I might have been, had I trodden that path which, at the very entrance of life, was pointed out to me by my fresh mind and true feelings!
