SERGEANT OF THE GUARDS.
My father, Andréj Petróvitch Grineff, after serving in his
youth under Count Münich,[1] had retired in 17—with the rank of
senior major. Since that time he had always lived on his estate in
the district of Simbirsk, where he married Avdotia, the eldest
daughter of a poor gentleman in the neighbourhood. Of the nine
children born of this union I alone survived; all my brothers and
sisters died young. I had been enrolled as sergeant in the
Séménofsky regiment by favour of the major of the Guard, Prince
Banojik, our near relation. I was supposed to be away on leave till
my education was finished. At that time we were brought up in
another manner than is usual now.
From five years old I was given over to the care of the
huntsman, Savéliitch,[2] who from his steadiness and sobriety was
considered worthy of becoming my attendant. Thanks to his care, at
twelve years old I could read and write, and was considered a good
judge of the points of a greyhound. At this time, to complete my
education, my father hired a Frenchman, M. Beaupré, who was
imported from Moscow at the same time as the annual provision of
wine and Provence oil. His arrival displeased Savéliitch very
much.
"It seems to me, thank heaven," murmured he, "the child was
washed, combed, and fed. What was the good of spending money and
hiring a ' moussié ,' as if
there were not enough servants in the house?"
Beaupré, in his native country, had been a hairdresser, then
a soldier in Prussia, and then had come to Russia to be "
outchitel ," without very well knowing
the meaning of this word.[3] He was a good creature, but
wonderfully absent and hare-brained. His greatest weakness was a
love of the fair sex. Neither, as he said himself, was he averse to
the bottle, that is, as we say in Russia, that his passion was
drink. But, as in our house the wine only appeared at table, and
then only in liqueur glasses,
and as on these occasions it somehow never came to the turn of the
" outchitel " to be served at
all, my Beaupré soon accustomed himself to the Russian brandy, and
ended by even preferring it to all the wines of his native country
as much better for the stomach. We became great friends, and
though, according to the contract, he had engaged himself to teach
me French, German, and all the
sciences , he liked better learning of me to
chatter Russian indifferently. Each of us busied himself with our
own affairs; our friendship was firm, and I did not wish for a
better mentor. But Fate soon parted us, and it was through an event
which I am going to relate.
The washerwoman, Polashka, a fat girl, pitted with small-pox,
and the one-eyed cow-girl, Akoulka, came one fine day to my mother
with such stories against the "
moussié ," that she, who did not at all
like these kind of jokes, in her turn complained to my father, who,
a man of hasty temperament, instantly sent for that
rascal of a Frenchman . He was answered
humbly that the " moussié " was
giving me a lesson. My father ran to my room. Beaupré was sleeping
on his bed the sleep of the just. As for me, I was absorbed in a
deeply interesting occupation. A map had been procured for me from
Moscow, which hung against the wall without ever being used, and
which had been tempting me for a long time from the size and
strength of its paper. I had at last resolved to make a kite of it,
and, taking advantage of Beaupré's slumbers, I had set to
work.
My father came in just at the very moment when I was tying a
tail to the
Cape of Good Hope.
At the sight of my geographical studies he boxed my ears
sharply, sprang forward to Beaupré's bed, and, awaking him without
any consideration, he began to assail him with reproaches. In his
trouble and confusion Beaupré vainly strove to rise; the poor
" outchitel " was dead drunk. My
father pulled him up by the collar of his coat, kicked him out of
the room, and dismissed him the same day, to the inexpressible joy
of Savéliitch.
Thus was my education finished.
I lived like a stay-at-home son (
nédoross'l ),[4] amusing myself by
scaring the pigeons on the roofs, and playing leapfrog with the
lads of the courtyard,[5] till I was past the age of sixteen. But
at this age my life underwent a great change.
One autumn day, my mother was making honey jam in her
parlour, while, licking my lips, I was watching the operations, and
occasionally tasting the boiling liquid. My father, seated by the
window, had just opened the Court
Almanack , which he received every year. He was
very fond of this book; he never read it except with great
attention, and it had the power of upsetting his temper very much.
My mother, who knew all his whims and habits by heart, generally
tried to keep the unlucky book hidden, so that sometimes whole
months passed without the Court
Almanack falling beneath his eye. On the other
hand, when he did chance to find it, he never left it for hours
together. He was now reading it, frequently shrugging his
shoulders, and muttering, half aloud—
"General! He was sergeant in my company. Knight of the Orders
of Russia!
Was it so long ago that we—"
At last my father threw the
Almanack away from him on the sofa, and
remained deep in a brown study, which never betokened anything
good.
"Avdotia Vassiliéva,"[6] said he, sharply addressing my
mother, "how old is Petróusha?"[7]
"His seventeenth year has just begun," replied my mother.
"Petróusha was born the same year our Aunt Anastasia Garasimofna[8]
lost an eye, and that—"
"All right," resumed my father; "it is time he should serve.
'Tis time he should cease running in and out of the maids' rooms
and climbing into the dovecote."
The thought of a coming separation made such an impression on
my mother that she dropped her spoon into her saucepan, and her
eyes filled with tears. As for me, it is difficult to express the
joy which took possession of me. The idea of service was mingled in
my mind with the liberty and pleasures offered by the town of
Petersburg. I already saw myself officer of the Guard, which was,
in my opinion, the height of human happiness.
My father neither liked to change his plans, nor to defer the
execution of them. The day of my departure was at once fixed. The
evening before my father told me that he was going to give me a
letter for my future superior officer, and bid me bring him pen and
paper.
"Don't forget, Andréj Petróvitch," said my mother, "to
remember me to
Prince Banojik; tell him I hope he will do all he can for my
Petróusha."
"What nonsense!" cried my father, frowning. "Why do you wish
me to write to Prince Banojik?"
"But you have just told us you are good enough to write to
Petróusha's superior officer."
"Well, what of that?"
"But Prince Banojik is Petróusha's superior officer. You know
very well he is on the roll of the Séménofsky
regiment."
"On the roll! What is it to me whether he be on the roll or
no? Petróusha shall not go to Petersburg! What would he learn
there? To spend money and commit follies. No, he shall serve with
the army, he shall smell powder, he shall become a soldier and not
an idler of the Guard, he shall wear out the straps of his
knapsack. Where is his commission? Give it to me."
My mother went to find my commission, which she kept in a box
with my christening clothes, and gave it to my father with, a
trembling hand. My father read it with attention, laid it before
him on the table, and began his letter.
Curiosity pricked me.
"Where shall I be sent," thought I, "if not to
Petersburg?"
I never took my eyes off my father's pen as it travelled
slowly over the paper. At last he finished his letter, put it with
my commission into the same cover, took off his spectacles, called
me, and said—
"This letter is addressed to Andréj Karlovitch R., my old
friend and comrade. You are to go to Orenburg[9] to serve under
him."
All my brilliant expectations and high hopes vanished.
Instead of the gay and lively life of Petersburg, I was doomed to a
dull life in a far and wild country. Military service, which a
moment before I thought would be delightful, now seemed horrible to
me. But there was nothing for it but resignation. On the morning of
the following day a travelling kibitka
stood before the hall door. There were packed in it a trunk
and a box containing a tea service, and some napkins tied up full
of rolls and little cakes, the last I should get of home
pampering.
My parents gave me their blessing, and my father said to
me—
"Good-bye, Petr'; serve faithfully he to whom you have sworn
fidelity; obey your superiors; do not seek for favours; do not
struggle after active service, but do not refuse it either, and
remember the proverb, 'Take care of your coat while it is new, and
of your honour while it is young.'"
My mother tearfully begged me not to neglect my health, and
bade Savéliitch take great care of the darling. I was dressed in a
short " touloup "[10] of
hareskin, and over it a thick pelisse of foxskin. I seated myself
in the kibitka with Savéliitch,
and started for my destination, crying bitterly.
I arrived at Simbirsk during the night, where I was to stay
twenty-four hours, that Savéliitch might do sundry commissions
entrusted to him. I remained at an inn, while Savéliitch went out
to get what he wanted. Tired of looking out at the windows upon a
dirty lane, I began wandering about the rooms of the inn. I went
into the billiard room. I found there a tall gentleman, about forty
years of age, with long, black moustachios, in a dressing-gown, a
cue in his hand, and a pipe in his mouth. He was playing with the
marker, who was to have a glass of brandy if he won, and, if he
lost, was to crawl under the table on all fours. I stayed to watch
them; the longer their games lasted, the more frequent became the
all-fours performance, till at last the marker remained entirely
under the table. The gentleman addressed to him some strong
remarks, as a funeral sermon, and proposed that I should play a
game with him. I replied that I did not know how to play billiards.
Probably it seemed to him very odd. He looked at me with a sort of
pity. Nevertheless, he continued talking to me. I learnt that his
name was Iván Ivánovitch[11] Zourine, that he commanded a troop in
the ——th Hussars, that he was recruiting just now at Simbirsk, and
that he had established himself at the same inn as myself. Zourine
asked me to lunch with him, soldier fashion, and, as we say, on
what Heaven provides. I accepted with pleasure; we sat down to
table; Zourine drank a great deal, and pressed me to drink, telling
me I must get accustomed to the service. He told good stories,
which made me roar with laughter, and we got up from table the best
of friends. Then he proposed to teach me billiards.
"It is," said he, "a necessity for soldiers like us. Suppose,
for instance, you come to a little town; what are you to do? One
cannot always find a Jew to afford one sport. In short, you must go
to the inn and play billiards, and to play you must know how to
play."
These reasons completely convinced me, and with great ardour
I began taking my lesson. Zourine encouraged me loudly; he was
surprised at my rapid progress, and after a few lessons he proposed
that we should play for money, were it only for a "
groch " (two kopeks),[12] not for the
profit, but that we might not play for nothing, which, according to
him, was a very bad habit.
I agreed to this, and Zourine called for punch; then he
advised me to taste it, always repeating that I must get accustomed
to the service.
"And what," said he, "would the service be without
punch?"
I followed his advice. We continued playing, and the more I
sipped my glass, the bolder I became. My balls flew beyond the
cushions. I got angry; I was impertinent to the marker who scored
for us. I raised the stake; in short, I behaved like a little boy
just set free from school. Thus the time passed very quickly. At
last Zourine glanced at the clock, put down his cue, and told me I
had lost a hundred roubles.[13] This disconcerted me very much; my
money was in the hands of Savéliitch. I was beginning to mumble
excuses, when Zourine said—
"But don't trouble yourself; I can wait, and now let us go
to
Arinúshka's."
What could you expect? I finished my day as foolishly as I
had begun it. We supped with this Arinúshka. Zourine always filled
up my glass, repeating that I must get accustomed to the
service.
Upon leaving the table I could scarcely stand. At midnight
Zourine took me back to the inn.
Savéliitch came to meet us at the door.
"What has befallen you?" he said to me in a melancholy voice,
when he saw the undoubted signs of my zeal for the service. "Where
did you thus swill yourself? Oh! good heavens! such a misfortune
never happened before."
"Hold your tongue, old owl," I replied, stammering; "I am
sure you are drunk. Go to bed, … but first help me to
bed."
The next day I awoke with a bad headache. I only remembered
confusedly the occurrences of the past evening. My meditations were
broken by Savéliitch, who came into my room with a cup of
tea.
"You begin early making free, Petr' Andréjïtch," he said to
me, shaking his head. "Well, where do you get it from? It seems to
me that neither your father nor your grandfather were drunkards. We
needn't talk of your mother; she has never touched a drop of
anything since she was born, except '
kvass .'[14] So whose fault is it?
Whose but the confounded ' moussié
;' he taught you fine things, that son of a dog, and well
worth the trouble of taking a Pagan for your servant, as if our
master had not had enough servants of his own!"
I was ashamed. I turned round and said to him—
"Go away, Savéliitch; I don't want any tea."
But it was impossible to quiet Savéliitch when once he had
begun to sermonize.
"Do you see now, Petr' Andréjïtch," said he, "what it is to
commit follies? You have a headache; you won't take anything. A man
who gets drunk is good for nothing. Do take a little pickled
cucumber with honey or half a glass of brandy to sober you. What do
you think?"
At this moment a little boy came in, who brought me a note
from Zourine.
I unfolded it and read as follows:—
"DEAR PETR' ANDRÉJÏTCH,
"Oblige me by sending by bearer the hundred roubles you lost
to me yesterday. I want money dreadfully.
"Your devoted
"IVÁN ZOURINE."
There was nothing for it. I assumed a look of indifference,
and, addressing myself to Savéliitch, I bid him hand over a hundred
roubles to the little boy.
"What—why?" he asked me in great surprise.
"I owe them to him," I answered as coldly as
possible.
"You owe them to him!" retorted Savéliitch, whose surprise
became greater. "When had you the time to run up such a debt? It is
impossible. Do what you please, excellency, but I will not give
this money."
I then considered that, if in this decisive moment I did not
oblige this obstinate old man to obey me, it would be difficult for
me in future to free myself from his tutelage. Glancing at him
haughtily, I said to him—
"I am your master; you are my servant. The money is mine; I
lost it because I chose to lose it. I advise you not to be
headstrong, and to obey your orders."
My words made such an impression on Savéliitch that he
clasped his hands and remained dumb and motionless.
"What are you standing there for like a stock?" I exclaimed,
angrily.
Savéliitch began to weep.
"Oh! my father, Petr' Andréjïtch," sobbed he, in a trembling
voice; "do not make me die of sorrow. Oh! my light, hearken to me
who am old; write to this robber that you were only joking, that we
never had so much money. A hundred roubles! Good heavens! Tell him
your parents have strictly forbidden you to play for anything but
nuts."
"Will you hold your tongue?" said I, hastily, interrupting
him. "Hand over the money, or I will kick you out of the
place."
Savéliitch looked at me with a deep expression of sorrow, and
went to fetch my money. I was sorry for the poor old man, but I
wished to assert myself, and prove that I was not a child. Zourine
got his hundred roubles.
Savéliitch was in haste to get me away from this unlucky inn;
he came in telling me the horses were harnessed. I left Simbirsk
with an uneasy conscience, and with some silent remorse, without
taking leave of my instructor, whom I little thought I should ever
see again.