Anton Tchekhov - The Murder

8/12/2019 Anton Tchekhov - The Murder

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The Murder

Anton Chekhov

I

The evening service was being celebrated at Progonnaya Station. Before the great ikon, painted in glaring colours on a background of gold, stood the crowd of railway servantswith their wives and children, and also of the tiberen and sawyers who worked close tothe railway line. All stood in silence, fascinated by the glare of the lights and the howling of the snow!stor which was ailessly disporting itself outside, regardless of the fact that itwas the "ve of the Annunciation. The old priest fro #edenyapino conducted the service$the sacristan and %atvey Terehov were singing.

%atvey&s face was beaing with delight$ he sang stretching out his neck as though hewanted to soar upwards. 'e sang tenor and chanted the (Praises( too in a tenor voice withhonied sweetness and persuasiveness. )hen he sang (Archangel #oices( he waved hisars like a conductor, and trying to second the sacristan&s hollow bass with his tenor,achieved soething e*treely cople*, and fro his face it could be seen that he wase*periencing great pleasure.

At last the service was over, and they all +uietly dispersed, and it was dark and epty again,and there followed that hush which is only known in stations that stand solitary in the opencountry or in the forest when the wind howls and nothing else is heard and when all theeptiness around, all the dreariness of life slowly ebbing away is felt.

%atvey lived not far fro the station at his cousin&s tavern. But he did not want to go hoe.'e sat down at the refreshent bar and began talking to the waiter in a low voice.

()e had our own choir in the tile factory. And I ust tell you that though we were onlyworken, our singing was first!rate, splendid. )e were often invited to the town, and whenthe eputy Bishop, -ather Ivan, took the service at Trinity Church, the bishop&s singers sangin the right choir and we in the left. nly they coplained in the town that we kept thesinging on too long/ &the factory choir drag it out,& they used to say. It is true we began St.Andrey&s prayers and the Praises between si* and seven, and it was past eleven when wefinished, so that it was soeties after idnight when we got hoe to the factory. It wasgood,( sighed %atvey. (#ery good it was, indeed, Sergey 0ikanoritch1 But here in yfather&s house it is anything but 2oyful. The nearest church is four iles away$ with yweak health I can&t get so far$ there are no singers there. And there is no peace or +uiet in

our faily$ day in day out, there is an uproar, scolding, uncleanliness$ we all eat out of one bowl like peasants$ and there are beetles in the cabbage soup. . . . 3od has not given ehealth, else I would have gone away long ago, Sergey 0ikanoritch.(

%atvey Terehov was a iddle!aged an about forty!five, but he had a look of ill!health$ hisface was wrinkled and his lank, scanty beard was +uite grey, and that ade hi see anyyears older. 'e spoke in a weak voice, circuspectly, and held his chest when he coughed,while his eyes assued the uneasy and an*ious look one sees in very apprehensive people.'e never said definitely what was wrong with hi, but he was fond of describing at length



how once at the factory he had lifted a heavy bo* and had ruptured hiself, and how thishad led to (the gripes,( and had forced hi to give up his work in the tile factory and coe back to his native place$ but he could not e*plain what he eant by (the gripes.(

(I ust own I a not fond of y cousin,( he went on, pouring hiself out soe tea. ('e isy elder$ it is a sin to censure hi, and I fear the 4ord, but I cannot bear it in patience. 'eis a haughty, surly, abusive an$ he is the torent of his relations and worken, andconstantly out of huour. 4ast Sunday I asked hi in an aiable way, &Brother, let us go toPahoovo for the %ass1& but he said &I a not going$ the priest there is a gabler$& and hewould not coe here to!day because, he said, the priest fro #edenyapino sokes anddrinks vodka. 'e doesn&t like the clergy1 'e reads %ass hiself and the 'ours and the#espers, while his sister acts as sacristan$ he says, &4et us pray unto the 4ord&1 and she, in athin little voice like a turkey!hen, &4ord, have ercy upon us1 . . .& It&s a sin, that&s what it is."very day I say to hi, &Think what you are doing, brother1 5epent, brother1& and he takesno notice.(

Sergey 0ikanoritch, the waiter, poured out five glasses of tea and carried the on a tray tothe waiting!roo. 'e had scarcely gone in when there was a shout/

(Is that the way to serve it, pig&s face6 7ou don&t know how to wait1(

It was the voice of the station!aster. There was a tiid utter, then again a harsh andangry shout/

(3et along1(

The waiter cae back greatly crestfallen.

(There was a tie when I gave satisfaction to counts and princes,( he said in a low voice$

(but now I don&t know how to serve tea. . . . 'e called e naes before the priest and theladies1(

The waiter, Sergey 0ikanoritch, had once had oney of his own, and had kept a buffet at afirst!class station, which was a 2unction, in the principal town of a province. There he hadworn a swallow!tail coat and a gold chain. But things had gone ill with hi$ he hads+uandered all his own oney over e*pensive fittings and service$ he had been robbed byhis staff, and getting gradually into difficulties, had oved to another station less bustling.'ere his wife had left hi, taking with her all the silver, and he oved to a third station of a still lower class, where no hot dishes were served. Then to a fourth. -re+uently changinghis situation and sinking lower and lower, he had at last coe to Progonnaya, and here he

used to sell nothing but tea and cheap vodka, and for lunch hard!boiled eggs and drysausages, which selt of tar, and which he hiself sarcastically said were only fit for theorchestra. 'e was bald all over the top of his head, and had proinent blue eyes and thick bushy whiskers, which he often cobed out, looking into the little looking!glass. %eoriesof the past haunted hi continually$ he could never get used to sausage (only fit for theorchestra,( to the rudeness of the station!aster, and to the peasants who used to haggleover the prices, and in his opinion it was as unseely to haggle over prices in a refreshentroo as in a cheist&s shop. 'e was ashaed of his poverty and degradation, and thatshae was now the leading interest of his life.



(Spring is late this year,( said %atvey, listening. (It&s a good 2ob$ I don&t like spring. Inspring it is very uddy, Sergey 0ikanoritch. In books they write/ Spring, the birds sing, thesun is setting, but what is there pleasant in that6 A bird is a bird, and nothing ore. I afond of good copany, of listening to folks, of talking of religion or singing soethingagreeable in chorus$ but as for nightingales and flowers !! bless the, I say1(

'e began again about the tile factory, about the choir, but Sergey 0ikanoritch could not getover his ortification, and kept shrugging his shoulders and uttering. %atvey said good! bye and went hoe.

There was no frost, and the snow was already elting on the roofs, though it was stillfalling in big flakes$ they were whirling rapidly round and round in the air and chasing oneanother in white clouds along the railway line. And the oak forest on both sides of the line,in the di light of the oon which was hidden soewhere high up in the clouds, resoundedwith a prolonged sullen urur. )hen a violent stor shakes the trees, how terrible theyare1 %atvey walked along the causeway beside the line, covering his face and his hands,while the wind beat on his back. All at once a little nag, plastered all over with snow, caeinto sight$ a sledge scraped along the bare stones of the causeway, and a peasant, white allover, too, with his head uffled up, cracked his whip. %atvey looked round after hi, butat once, as though it had been a vision, there was neither sledge nor peasant to be seen, andhe hastened his steps, suddenly scared, though he did not know why.

'ere was the crossing and the dark little house where the signalan lived. The barrier wasraised, and by it perfect ountains had drifted and clouds of snow were whirling round likewitches on broosticks. At that point the line was crossed by an old highroad, which wasstill called (the track.( n the right, not far fro the crossing, by the roadside stoodTerehov&s tavern, which had been a posting inn. 'ere there was always a light twinkling atnight.

)hen %atvey reached hoe there was a strong sell of incense in all the roos and evenin the entry. 'is cousin 7akov Ivanitch was still reading the evening service. In the prayer!roo where this was going on, in the corner opposite the door, there stood a shrine of old!fashioned ancestral ikons in gilt settings, and both walls to right and to left were decoratedwith ikons of ancient and odern fashion, in shrines and without the. n the table, whichwas draped to the floor, stood an ikon of the Annunciation, and close by a cyprus!woodcross and the censer$ wa* candles were burning. Beside the table was a reading desk. As he passed by the prayer!roo, %atvey stopped and glanced in at the door. 7akov Ivanitch wasreading at the desk at that oent, his sister Aglaia, a tall lean old woan in a dark!bluedress and white kerchief, was praying with hi. 7akov Ivanitch&s daughter ashutka, an

ugly freckled girl of eighteen, was there, too, barefoot as usual, and wearing the dress inwhich she had at nightfall taken water to the cattle.

(3lory to Thee )ho hast shown us the light1( 7akov Ivanitch booed out in a chant, bowing low.

Aglaia propped her chin on her hand and chanted in a thin, shrill, drawling voice. Andupstairs, above the ceiling, there was the sound of vague voices which seeed enacing or oinous of evil. 0o one had lived on the storey above since a fire there a long tie ago.



The windows were boarded up, and epty bottles lay about on the floor between the beas. 0ow the wind was banging and droning, and it seeed as though soeone were runningand stubling over the beas.

'alf of the lower storey was used as a tavern, while Terehov&s faily lived in the other half,so that when drunken visitors were noisy in the tavern every word they said could be heardin the roos. %atvey lived in a roo ne*t to the kitchen, with a big stove, in which, in olddays, when this had been a posting inn, bread had been baked every day. ashutka, who hadno roo of her own, lived in the sae roo behind the stove. A cricket chirped therealways at night and ice ran in and out.

%atvey lighted a candle and began reading a book which he had borrowed fro the station policean. )hile he was sitting over it the service ended, and they all went to bed.ashutka lay down, too. She began snoring at once, but soon woke up and said, yawning/

(7ou shouldn&t burn a candle for nothing, 8ncle %atvey.(

(It&s y candle,( answered %atvey$ (I bought it with y own oney.(

ashutka turned over a little and fell asleep again. %atvey sat up a good tie longer !! hewas not sleepy !! and when he had finished the last page he took a pencil out of a bo* andwrote on the book/

(I, %atvey Terehov, have read this book, and think it the very best of all the books I haveread, for which I e*press y gratitude to the non!coissioned officer of the Policeepartent of 5ailways, 9u:a 0ikolaev ;hukov, as the possessor of this priceless book.(

'e considered it an obligation of politeness to ake such inscriptions in other people&s

books.

IIn Annunciation ay, after the ail train had been sent off, %atvey was sitting in therefreshent bar, talking and drinking tea with leon in it.

The waiter and ;hukov the policean were listening to hi.

(I was, I ust tell you,( %atvey was saying, (inclined to religion fro y earliestchildhood. I was only twelve years old when I used to read the epistle in church, and y

parents were greatly delighted, and every suer I used to go on a pilgriage with y dear other. Soeties other lads would be singing songs and catching crayfish, while I would be all the tie with y other. %y elders coended e, and, indeed, I was pleasedyself that I was of such good behaviour. And when y other sent e with her blessingto the factory, I used between working hours to sing tenor there in our choir, and nothinggave e greater pleasure. I needn&t say, I drank no vodka, I soked no tobacco, and lived inchastity$ but we all know such a ode of life is displeasing to the eney of ankind, andhe, the unclean spirit, once tried to ruin e and began to darken y ind, 2ust as now withy cousin. -irst of all, I took a vow to fast every %onday and not to eat eat any day, and



as tie went on all sorts of fancies cae over e. -or the first week of 4ent down toSaturday the holy fathers have ordained a diet of dry food, but it is no sin for the weak or those who work hard even to drink tea, yet not a crub passed into y outh till theSunday, and afterwards all through 4ent I did not allow yself a drop of oil, and on)ednesdays and -ridays I did not touch a orsel at all. It was the sae in the lesser fasts.Soeties in St. Peter&s fast our factory lads would have fish soup, while I would sit a littleapart fro the and suck a dry crust. ifferent people have different powers, of course, butI can say of yself I did not find fast days hard, and, indeed, the greater the :eal the easier itsees. 7ou are only hungry on the first days of the fast, and then you get used to it$ it goeson getting easier, and by the end of a week you don&t ind it at all, and there is a nubfeeling in your legs as though you were not on earth, but in the clouds. And, besides that, Ilaid all sorts of penances on yself$ I used to get up in the night and pray, bowing down tothe ground, used to drag heavy stones fro place to place, used to go out barefoot in thesnow, and I even wore chains, too. nly, as tie went on, you know, I was confessing oneday to the priest and suddenly this reflection occurred to e/ why, this priest, I thought, isarried, he eats eat and sokes tobacco !! how can he confess e, and what power hashe to absolve y sins if he is ore sinful that I6 I even scruple to eat 4enten oil, while heeats sturgeon, I dare say. I went to another priest, and he, as ill luck would have it, was a fatfleshy an, in a silk cassock$ he rustled like a lady, and he selt of tobacco too. I went tofast and confess in the onastery, and y heart was not at ease even there$ I kept fancyingthe onks were not living according to their rules. And after that I could not find a serviceto y ind/ in one place they read the service too fast, in another they sang the wrong prayer, in a third the sacristan staered. Soeties, the 4ord forgive e a sinner, Iwould stand in church and y heart would throb with anger. 'ow could one pray, feelinglike that6 And I fancied that the people in the church did not cross theselves properly, didnot listen properly$ wherever I looked it seeed to e that they were all drunkards, thatthey broke the fast, soked, lived loose lives and played cards. I was the only one wholived according to the coandents. The wily spirit did not sluber$ it got worse as itwent on. I gave up singing in the choir and I did not go to church at all$ since y notion was

that I was a righteous an and that the church did not suit e owing to its iperfections !!that is, indeed, like a fallen angel, I was puffed up in y pride beyond all belief. After this I began attepting to ake a church for yself. I hired fro a deaf woan a tiny little roo,a long way out of town near the ceetery, and ade a prayer!roo like y cousin&s, only Ihad big church candlesticks, too, and a real censer. In this prayer!roo of ine I kept therules of holy %ount Athos !! that is, every day y atins began at idnight without fail,and on the eve of the chief of the twelve great holy days y idnight service lasted tenhours and soeties even twelve. %onks are allowed by rule to sit during the singing of the Psalter and the reading of the Bible, but I wanted to be better than the onks, and so Iused to stand all through. I used to read and sing slowly, with tears and sighing, lifting upy hands, and I used to go straight fro prayer to work without sleeping$ and, indeed, I was

always praying at y work, too. )ell, it got all over the town &%atvey is a saint$ %atveyheals the sick and senseless.& I never had healed anyone, of course, but we all knowwherever any heresy or false doctrine springs up there&s no keeping the feale se* away.They are 2ust like flies on the honey. ld aids and feales of all sorts cae trailing to e, bowing down to y feet, kissing y hands and crying out I was a saint and all the rest of it,and one even saw a halo round y head. It was too crowded in the prayer!roo. I took a bigger roo, and then we had a regular tower of Babel. The devil got hold of ecopletely and screened the light fro y eyes with his unclean hoofs. )e all behaved asthough we were frantic. I read, while the old aids and other feales sang, and then after



standing on their legs for twenty!four hours or longer without eating or drinking, suddenly atrebling would coe over the as though they were in a fever$ after that, one would beginscreaing and then another !! it was horrible1 I, too, would shiver all over like a <ew in afrying!pan, I don&t know yself why, and our legs began to prance about. It&s a strangething, indeed/ you don&t want to, but you prance about and waggle your ars$ and after that,screaing and shrieking, we all danced and ran after one another !! ran till we dropped$ andin that way, in wild fren:y, I fell into fornication.(

The policean laughed, but, noticing that no one else was laughing, becae serious andsaid/

(That&s %olokanis. I have heard they are all like that in the Caucasus.(

(But I was not killed by a thunderbolt,( %atvey went on, crossing hiself before the ikonand oving his lips. (%y dead other ust have been praying for e in the other world.)hen everyone in the town looked upon e as a saint, and even the ladies and gentleenof good faily used to coe to e in secret for consolation, I happened to go into our landlord, sip #arlaitch, to ask forgiveness !! it was the ay of -orgiveness !! and hefastened the door with the hook, and we were left alone face to face. And he began toreprove e, and I ust tell you sip #arlaitch was a an of brains, though withouteducation, and everyone respected and feared hi, for he was a an of stern, 3od!fearinglife and worked hard. 'e had been the ayor of the town, and a warden of the church for twenty years aybe, and had done a great deal of good$ he had covered all the 0ew%oscow 5oad with gravel, had painted the church, and had decorated the coluns to look like alachite. )ell, he fastened the door, and !! &I have been wanting to get at you for along tie, you rascal, . . . & he said. &7ou think you are a saint,& he said. &0o you are not asaint, but a backslider fro 3od, a heretic and an evildoer1 . . .& And he went on and on. . . .I can&t tell you how he said it, so elo+uently and cleverly, as though it were all written down,and so touchingly. 'e talked for two hours. 'is words penetrated y soul$ y eyes were

opened. I listened, listened and !! burst into sobs1 &Be an ordinary an,& he said, &eat anddrink, dress and pray like everyone else. All that is above the ordinary is of the devil. 7our chains,& he said, &are of the devil$ your fasting is of the devil$ your prayer!roo is of thedevil. It is all pride,& he said. 0e*t day, on %onday in 'oly )eek, it pleased 3od I shouldfall ill. I ruptured yself and was taken to the hospital. I was terribly worried, and wept bitterly and trebled. I thought there was a straight road before e fro the hospital to hell,and I alost died. I was in isery on a bed of sickness for si* onths, and when I wasdischarged the first thing I did I confessed, and took the sacraent in the regular way and becae a an again. sip #arlaitch saw e off hoe and e*horted e/ &5eeber,%atvey, that anything above the ordinary is of the devil.& And now I eat and drink likeeveryone else and pray like everyone else. . . . If it happens now that the priest sells of

tobacco or vodka I don&t venture to blae hi, because the priest, too, of course, is anordinary an. But as soon as I a told that in the town or in the village a saint has set upwho does not eat for weeks, and akes rules of his own, I know whose work it is. So that ishow I carried on in the past, gentleen. 0ow, like sip #arlaitch, I a continuallye*horting y cousins and reproaching the, but I a a voice crying in the wilderness. 3odhas not vouchsafed e the gift.(

%atvey&s story evidently ade no ipression whatever. Sergey 0ikanoritch said nothing, but began clearing the refreshents off the counter, while the policean began talking of



how rich %atvey&s cousin was.

('e ust have thirty thousand at least,( he said.

;hukov the policean, a sturdy, well!fed, red!haired an with a full face =his cheeks+uivered when he walked>, usually sat lolling and crossing his legs when not in the presence of his superiors. As he talked he swayed to and fro and whistled carelessly, whilehis face had a self!satisfied replete air, as though he had 2ust had dinner. 'e was akingoney, and he always talked of it with the air of a connoisseur. 'e undertook 2obs as anagent, and when anyone wanted to sell an estate, a horse or a carriage, they applied to hi.

(7es, it will be thirty thousand, I dare say,( Sergey 0ikanoritch assented. (7our grandfather had an iense fortune,( he said, addressing %atvey. (Iense it was$ all left to your father and your uncle. 7our father died as a young an and your uncle got hold of it all, andafterwards, of course, 7akov Ivanitch. )hile you were going pilgriages with your aaand singing tenor in the factory, they didn&t let the grass grow under their feet.(

(-ifteen thousand coes to your share,( said the policean swaying fro side to side. (Thetavern belongs to you in coon, so the capital is in coon. 7es. If I were in your place Ishould have taken it into court long ago. I would have taken it into court for one thing, andwhile the case was going on I&d have knocked his face to a 2elly.(

7akov Ivanitch was disliked because, when anyone believes differently fro others, itupsets even people who are indifferent to religion. The policean disliked hi also becausehe, too, sold horses and carriages.

(7ou don&t care about going to law with your cousin because you have plenty of oney of your own,( said the waiter to %atvey, looking at hi with envy. (It is all very well for anyone who has eans, but here I shall die in this position, I suppose. . . .(

%atvey began declaring that he hadn&t any oney at all, but Sergey 0ikanoritch was notlistening. %eories of the past and of the insults which he endured every day caeshowering upon hi. 'is bald head began to perspire$ he flushed and blinked.

(A cursed life1( he said with ve*ation, and he banged the sausage on the floor.

IIIThe story ran that the tavern had been built in the tie of Ale*ander I, by a widow who hadsettled here with her son$ her nae was Avdotya Terehov. The dark roofed!in courtyard and

the gates always kept locked e*cited, especially on oonlight nights, a feeling of depression and unaccountable uneasiness in people who drove by with posting!horses, asthough sorcerers or robbers were living in it$ and the driver always looked back after he passed, and whipped up his horses. Travellers did not care to put up here, as the people of the house were always unfriendly and charged heavily. The yard was uddy even insuer$ huge fat pigs used to lie there in the ud, and the horses in which the Terehovsdealt wandered about untethered, and often it happened that they ran out of the yard anddashed along the road like ad creatures, terrifying the pilgri woen. At that tie therewas a great deal of traffic on the road$ long trains of loaded waggons trailed by, and all sorts



of adventures happened, such as, for instance, that thirty years ago soe waggoners got up a+uarrel with a passing erchant and killed hi, and a slanting cross is standing to this dayhalf a ile fro the tavern$ posting!chaises with bells and the heavy doreuses of countrygentleen drove by$ and herds of hoed cattle passed bellowing and stirring up clouds of dust.

)hen the railway cae there was at first at this place only a platfor, which was calledsiply a halt$ ten years afterwards the present station, Progonnaya, was built. The traffic onthe old posting!road alost ceased, and only local landowners and peasants drove along itnow, but the working people walked there in crowds in spring and autun. The posting!innwas transfored into a restaurant$ the upper storey was destroyed by fire, the roof hadgrown yellow with rust, the roof over the yard had fallen by degrees, but huge fat pigs, pink and revolting, still wallowed in the ud in the yard. As before, the horses soeties ranaway and, lashing their tails dashed adly along the road. In the tavern they sold tea, hayoats and flour, as well as vodka and beer, to be drunk on the preises and also to be takenaway$ they sold spirituous li+uors warily, for they had never taken out a licence.

The Terehovs had always been distinguished by their piety, so uch so that they had even been given the nicknae of the (3odlies.( But perhaps because they lived apart like bears,avoided people and thought out all their ideas for theselves, they were given to dreasand to doubts and to changes of faith and alost each generation had a peculiar faith of itsown. The grandother Avdotya, who had built the inn, was an ld Believer$ her son and both her grandsons =the fathers of %atvey and 7akov> went to the rthodo* church,entertained the clergy, and worshipped before the new ikons as devoutly as they had done before the old. The son in old age refused to eat eat and iposed upon hiself the rule of silence, considering all conversation as sin$ it was the peculiarity of the grandsons that theyinterpreted the Scripture not siply, but sought in it a hidden eaning, declaring that everysacred word ust contain a ystery.

Avdotya&s great!grandson %atvey had struggled fro early childhood with all sorts of dreas and fancies and had been alost ruined by it$ the other great!grandson, 7akovIvanitch, was orthodo*, but after his wife&s death he gave up going to church and prayed athoe. -ollowing his e*aple, his sister Aglaia had turned, too$ she did not go to churchherself, and did not let ashutka go. f Aglaia it was told that in her youth she used toattend the -lagellant eetings in #edenyapino, and that she was still a -lagellant in secret,and that was why she wore a white kerchief.

7akov Ivanitch was ten years older than %atvey !! he was a very handsoe tall old anwith a big grey beard alost to his waist, and bushy eyebrows which gave his face a stern,even ill!natured e*pression. 'e wore a long 2erkin of good cloth or a black sheepskin coat,

and altogether tried to be clean and neat in dress$ he wore goloshes even in dry weather. 'edid not go to church, because, to his thinking, the services were not properly celebrated and because the priests drank wine at unlawful ties and soked tobacco. "very day he readand sang the service at hoe with Aglaia. At #edenyapino they left out the (Praises( atearly atins, and had no evening service even on great holidays, but he used to readthrough at hoe everything that was laid down for every day, without hurrying or leavingout a single line, and even in his spare tie read aloud the 4ives of the Saints. And ineveryday life he adhered strictly to the rules of the church$ thus, if wine were allowed onsoe day in 4ent (for the sake of the vigil,( then he never failed to drink wine, even if he



were not inclined.

'e read, sang, burned incense and fasted, not for the sake of receiving blessings of soesort fro 3od, but for the sake of good order. %an cannot live without religion, andreligion ought to be e*pressed fro year to year and fro day to day in a certain order, sothat every orning and every evening a an ight turn to 3od with e*actly those wordsand thoughts that were befitting that special day and hour. ne ust live, and, therefore,also pray as is pleasing to 3od, and so every day one ust read and sing what is pleasing to3od!!that is, what is laid down in the rule of the church. Thus the first chapter of St. <ohnust only be read on "aster ay, and (It is ost eet( ust not be sung fro "aster toAscension, and so on. The consciousness of this order and its iportance afforded 7akovIvanitch great gratification during his religious e*ercises. )hen he was forced to break thisorder by soe necessity !! to drive to town or to the bank, for instance his conscience wasuneasy and he fit iserable.

)hen his cousin %atvey had returned une*pectedly fro the factory and settled in thetavern as though it were his hoe, he had fro the very first day disturbed his settled order.'e refused to pray with the, had eals and drank tea at wrong ties, got up late, drank ilk on )ednesdays and -ridays on the prete*t of weak health$ alost every day he wentinto the prayer!roo while they were at prayers and cried/ (Think what you are doing, brother1 5epent, brother1( These words threw 7akov into a fury, while Aglaia could notrefrain fro beginning to scold$ or at night %atvey would steal into the prayer!roo andsay softly/ (Cousin, your prayer is not pleasing to 3od. -or it is written, -irst be reconciledwith thy brother and then offer thy gift. 7ou lend oney at usury, you deal in vodka !!repent1(

In %atvey&s words 7akov saw nothing but the usual evasions of epty!headed and careless people who talk of loving your neighbour, of being reconciled with your brother, and so on,siply to avoid praying, fasting and reading holy books, and who talk conteptuously of

profit and interest siply because they don&t like working. f course, to be poor, savenothing, and put by nothing was a great deal easier than being rich.

But yet he was troubled and could not pray as before. As soon as he went into the prayer!roo and opened the book he began to be afraid his cousin would coe in and hinder hi$and, in fact, %atvey did soon appear and cry in a trebling voice/ (Think what you aredoing, brother1 5epent, brother1( Aglaia stored and 7akov, too, flew into a passion andshouted/ (3o out of y house1( while %atvey answered hi/ (The house belongs to both of us.(

7akov would begin singing and reading again, but he could not regain his cal, and

unconsciously fell to dreaing over his book. Though he regarded his cousin&s words asnonsense, yet for soe reason it had of late haunted his eory that it is hard for a richan to enter the kingdo of heaven, that the year before last he had ade a very good bargain over buying a stolen horse, that one day when his wife was alive a drunkard haddied of vodka in his tavern. . . .

'e slept badly at nights now and woke easily, and he could hear that %atvey, too, wasawake, and continually sighing and pining for his tile factory. And while 7akov turned over fro one side to another at night he thought of the stolen horse and the drunken an, and



what was said in the gospels about the cael.

It looked as though his dreainess were coing over hi again. And as ill!luck would haveit, although it was the end of %arch, every day it kept snowing, and the forest roared asthough it were winter, and there was no believing that spring would ever coe. The weather disposed one to depression, and to +uarrelling and to hatred and in the night, when the winddroned over the ceiling, it seeed as though soeone were living overhead in the eptystorey$ little by little the broodings settled like a burden on his ind, his head burned and hecould not sleep.

I#n the orning of the %onday before 3ood -riday, %atvey heard fro his roo ashutkasay to Aglaia/

(8ncle %atvey said, the other day, that there is no need to fast.(

%atvey reebered the whole conversation he had had the evening before with ashutka,and he felt hurt all at once.

(3irl, don&t do wrong1( he said in a oaning voice, like a sick an. (7ou can&t do withoutfasting$ our 4ord 'iself fasted forty days. I only e*plained that fasting does a bad an nogood.(

(7ou should 2ust listen to the factory hands$ they can teach you goodness,( Aglaia saidsarcastically as she washed the floor =she usually washed the floors on working days andwas always angry with everyone when she did it>. ()e know how they keep the fasts in thefactory. 7ou had better ask that uncle of yours !! ask hi about his &arling,& how he used togu::le ilk on fast days with her, the viper. 'e teaches others$ he forgets about his viper.

But ask hi who was it he left his oney with !! who was it6(

%atvey had carefully concealed fro everyone, as though it were a foul sore, that duringthat period of his life when old woen and unarried girls had danced and run about withhi at their prayers he had fored a connection with a working woan and had had a child by her. )hen he went hoe he had given this woan all he had saved at the factory, andhad borrowed fro his landlord for his 2ourney, and now he had only a few roubles whichhe spent on tea and candles. The (arling( had infored hi later on that the child wasdead, and asked hi in a letter what she should do with the oney. This letter was broughtfro the station by the labourer. Aglaia intercepted it and read it, and had reproached%atvey with his (arling( every day since.

(<ust fancy, nine hundred roubles,( Aglaia went on. (7ou gave nine hundred roubles to aviper, no relation, a factory 2ade, blast you1( She had flown into a passion by now and wasshouting shrilly/ (Can&t you speak6 I could tear you to pieces, wretched creature1 0inehundred roubles as though it were a farthing 7ou ight have left it to ashutka !! she is arelation, not a stranger !! or else have it sent to Byelev for %arya&s poor orphans. And your viper did not choke, ay she be thrice accursed, the she!devil1 %ay she never look upon thelight of day1(



7akov Ivanitch called to her/ it was tie to begin the ('ours.( She washed, put on a whitekerchief, and by now +uiet and eek, went into the prayer!roo to the brother she loved.)hen she spoke to %atvey or served peasants in the tavern with tea she was a gaunt, keen!eyed, ill!huoured old woan$ in the prayer!roo her face was serene and softened, shelooked younger altogether, she curtsied affectedly, and even pursed up her lips.

7akov Ivanitch began reading the service softly and dolefully, as he always did in 4ent.After he had read a little he stopped to listen to the stillness that reigned through the house,and then went on reading again, with a feeling of gratification$ he folded his hands insupplication, rolled his eyes, shook his head, sighed. But all at once there was the sound of voices. The policean and Sergey 0ikanoritch had coe to see %atvey. 7akov Ivanitchwas ebarrassed at reading aloud and singing when there were strangers in the house, andnow, hearing voices, he began reading in a whisper and slowly. 'e could hear in the prayer!roo the waiter say/

(The Tatar at Shtchepovo is selling his business for fifteen hundred. 'e&ll take five hundreddown and an I..8. for the rest. And so, %atvey #assilitch, be so kind as to lend e thatfive hundred roubles. I will pay you two per cent a onth.(

()hat oney have I got6( cried %atvey, aa:ed. (I have no oney1(

(Two per cent a onth will be a godsend to you,( the policean e*plained. ()hile lying by, your oney is siply eaten by the oth, and that&s all that you get fro it.(

Afterwards the visitors went out and a silence followed. But 7akov Ivanitch had hardly begun reading and singing again when a voice was heard outside the door/

(Brother, let e have a horse to drive to #edenyapino.(

It was %atvey. And 7akov was troubled again. ()hich can you go with6( he asked after aoent&s thought. (The an has gone with the sorrel to take the pig, and I a going withthe little stallion to Shuteykino as soon as I have finished.(

(Brother, why is it you can dispose of the horses and not I6( %atvey asked with irritation.

(Because I a not taking the for pleasure, but for work.(

(ur property is in coon, so the horses are in coon, too, and you ought to understandthat, brother.(

A silence followed. 7akov did not go on praying, but waited for %atvey to go away frothe door.

(Brother,( said %atvey, (I a a sick an. I don&t want possession !! let the go$ you havethe, but give e a sall share to keep e in y illness. 3ive it e and I&ll go away.(

7akov did not speak. 'e longed to be rid of %atvey, but he could not give hi oney,since all the oney was in the business$ besides, there had never been a case of the failydividing in the whole history of the Terehovs. ivision eans ruin.



7akov said nothing, but still waited for %atvey to go away, and kept looking at his sister,afraid that she would interfere, and that there would be a stor of abuse again, as there had been in the orning. )hen at last %atvey did go 7akov went on reading, but now he hadno pleasure in it. There was a heaviness in his head and a darkness before his eyes frocontinually bowing down to the ground, and he was weary of the sound of his soft de2ectedvoice. )hen such a depression of spirit cae over hi at night, he put it down to not beingable to sleep$ by day it frightened hi, and he began to feel as though devils were sitting onhis head and shoulders.

-inishing the service after a fashion, dissatisfied and ill!huoured, he set off for Shuteykino. In the previous autun a gang of navvies had dug a boundary ditch near Progonnaya, and had run up a bill at the tavern for eighteen roubles, and now he had to findtheir forean in Shuteykino and get the oney fro hi. The road had been spoilt by thethaw and the snowstor$ it was of a dark colour and full of holes, and in parts it had givenway altogether. The snow had sunk away at the sides below the road, so that he had todrive, as it were, upon a narrow causeway, and it was very difficult to turn off it when heet anything. The sky had been overcast ever since the orning and a dap wind was blowing. . . .

A long train of sledges et hi$ peasant woen were carting bricks. 7akov had to turn off the road. 'is horse sank into the snow up to its belly$ the sledge lurched over to the right,and to avoid falling out he bent over to the left, and sat so all the tie the sledges ovedslowly by hi. Through the wind he heard the creaking of the sledge poles and the breathing of the gaunt horses, and the woen saying about hi, (There&s 3odly coing,(while one, ga:ing with copassion at his horse, said +uickly/

(It looks as though the snow will be lying till 7egory&s ay1 They are worn out with it1(

7akov sat uncofortably huddled up, screwing up his eyes on account of the wind, whilehorses and red bricks kept passing before hi. And perhaps because he was uncofortableand his side ached, he felt all at once annoyed, and the business he was going about seeedto hi uniportant, and he reflected that he ight send the labourer ne*t day toShuteykino. Again, as in the previous sleepless night, he thought of the saying about thecael, and then eories of all sorts crept into his ind$ of the peasant who had sold hithe stolen horse, of the drunken an, of the peasant woen who had brought their saovars to hi to pawn. f course, every erchant tries to get as uch as he can, but7akov felt depressed that he was in trade$ he longed to get soewhere far away fro thisroutine, and he felt dreary at the thought that he would have to read the evening service thatday. The wind blew straight into his face and soughed in his collar$ and it seeed as though

it were whispering to hi all these thoughts, bringing the fro the broad white plain. . . .4ooking at that plain, failiar to hi fro childhood, 7akov reebered that he had had 2ust this sae trouble and these sae thoughts in his young days when dreas andiaginings had coe upon hi and his faith had wavered.

'e felt iserable at being alone in the open country$ he turned back and drove slowly after the sledges, and the woen laughed and said/

(3odly has turned back.(



At hoe nothing had been cooked and the saovar was not heated on account of the fast,and this ade the day see very long. 7akov Ivanitch had long ago taken the horse to thestable, dispatched the flour to the station, and twice taken up the Psals to read, and yet theevening was still far off. Aglaia has already washed all the floors, and, having nothing todo, was tidying up her chest, the lid of which was pasted over on the inside with labels off bottles. %atvey, hungry and elancholy, sat reading, or went up to the utch stove andslowly scrutini:ed the tiles which reinded hi of the factory. ashutka was asleep$ then,waking up, she went to take water to the cattle. )hen she was getting water fro the wellthe cord broke and the pail fell in. The labourer began looking for a boathook to get the pailout, and ashutka, barefooted, with legs as red as a goose&s, followed hi about in theuddy snow, repeating/ (It&s too far1( She eant to say that the well was too deep for thehook to reach the botto, but the labourer did not understand her, and evidently she bothered hi, so that he suddenly turned around and abused her in unseely language.7akov Ivanitch, coing out that oent into the yard, heard ashutka answer the labourer in a long rapid strea of choice abuse, which she could only have learned fro drunken peasants in the tavern.

()hat are you saying, shaeless girl1( he cried to her, and he was positively aghast. ()hatlanguage1(

And she looked at her father in perple*ity, dully, not understanding why she should not usethose words. 'e would have adonished her, but she struck hi as so savage and benighted$ and for the first tie he reali:ed that she had no religion. And all this life in theforest, in the snow, with drunken peasants, with coarse oaths, seeed to hi as savage and benighted as this girl, and instead of giving her a lecture he only waved his hand and went back into the roo.

At that oent the policean and Sergey 0ikanoritch cae in again to see %atvey. 7akov

Ivanitch thought that these people, too, had no religion, and that that did not trouble the inthe least$ and huan life began to see to hi as strange, senseless and unenlightened as adog&s. Bareheaded he walked about the yard, then he went out on to the road, clenching hisfists. Snow was falling in big flakes at the tie. 'is beard was blown about in the wind. 'ekept shaking his head, as though there were soething weighing upon his head andshoulders, as though devils were sitting on the$ and it seeed to hi that it was nothiself walking about, but soe wild beast, a huge terrible beast, and that if he were to cryout his voice would be a roar that would sound all over the forest and the plain, and wouldfrighten everyone. . . .

#)hen he went back into the house the policean was no longer there. but the waiter wassitting with %atvey, counting soething on the reckoning beads. 'e was in the habit of coing often, alost every day, to the tavern$ in old days he had coe to see 7akovIvanitch, now he cae to see %atvey. 'e was continually reckoning on the beads, while hisface perspired and looked strained, or he would ask for oney or, stroking his whiskers,would describe how he had once been in a first!class station and used to preparechapagne!punch for officers, and at grand dinners served the sturgeon!soup with his ownhands. 0othing in this world interested hi but refreshent bars, and he could only talk



about things to eat, about wines and the paraphernalia of the dinner!table. n one occasion,handing a cup of tea to a young woan who was nursing her baby and wishing to saysoething agreeable to her, he e*pressed hiself in this way/

(The other&s breast is the baby&s refreshent bar.(

5eckoning with the beads in %atvey&s roo, he asked for oney$ said he could not go onliving at Progonnaya, and several ties repeated in a tone of voice that sounded as thoughhe were 2ust going to cry/

()here a I to go6 )here a I to go now6 Tell e that, please.(

Then %atvey went into the kitchen and began peeling soe boiled potatoes which he had probably put away fro the day before. It was +uiet, and it seeed to 7akov Ivanitch thatthe waiter was gone. It was past the tie for evening service$ he called Aglaia, and,thinking there was no one else in the house sang out aloud without ebarrassent. 'e sangand read, but was inwardly pronouncing other words, (4ord, forgive e1 4ord, save e1(and, one after another, without ceasing, he ade low bows to the ground as though hewanted to e*haust hiself, and he kept shaking his head, so that Aglaia looked at hi withwonder. 'e was afraid %atvey would coe in, and was certain that he would coe in, andfelt an anger against hi which he could overcoe neither by prayer nor by continually bowing down to the ground.

%atvey opened the door very softly and went into the prayer!roo.

(It&s a sin, such a sin1( he said reproachfully, and heaved a sigh. (5epent1 Think what youare doing, brother1(

7akov Ivanitch, clenching his fists and not looking at hi for fear of striking hi, went

+uickly out of the roo. -eeling hiself a huge terrible wild beast, 2ust as he had done before on the road, he crossed the passage into the grey, dirty roo, reeking with soke andfog, in which the peasants usually drank tea, and there he spent a long tie walking froone corner to the other, treading heavily, so that the crockery 2ingled on the shelves and thetables shook. It was clear to hi now that he was hiself dissatisfied with his religion, antcould not pray as he used to do. 'e ust repent, he ust think things over, reconsider, liveand pray in soe other way. But how pray6 And perhaps all this was a teptation of thedevil, and nothing of this was necessary6 . . . 'ow was it to be6 )hat was he to do6 )hocould guide hi6 )hat helplessness1 'e stopped and, clutching at his head, began to think, but %atvey&s being near hi prevented hi fro reflecting cally. And he went rapidlyinto the roo.

%atvey was sitting in the kitchen before a bowl of potato, eating. Close by, near the stove,Aglaia and ashutka were sitting facing one another, spinning yarn. Between the stove andthe table at which %atvey was sitting was stretched an ironing!board$ on it stood a coldiron.

(Sister,( %atvey asked, (let e have a little oil1(

()ho eats oil on a day like this6( asked Aglaia.



(I a not a onk, sister, but a layan. And in y weak health I ay take not only oil butilk.(

(7es, at the factory you ay have anything.(

Aglaia took a bottle of 4enten oil fro the shelf and banged it angrily down before %atvey,with a alignant sile evidently pleased that he was such a sinner.

(But I tell you, you can&t eat oil1( shouted 7akov.

Aglaia and ashutka started, but %atvey poured the oil into the bowl and went on eating asthough he had not heard.

(I tell you, you can&t eat oil1( 7akov shouted still ore loudly$ he turned red all over,snatched up the bowl, lifted it higher that his head, and dashed it with all his force to theground, so that it flew into fragents. (on&t dare to speak1( he cried in a furious voice,though %atvey had not said a word. (on&t dare1( he repeated, and struck his fist on thetable.

%atvey turned pale and got up.

(Brother1( he said, still unching !! (brother, think what you are about1(

(ut of y house this inute1( shouted 7akov$ he loathed %atvey&s wrinkled face, and hisvoice, and the crubs on his oustache, and the fact that he was unching. (ut, I tellyou1(

(Brother, cal yourself1 The pride of hell has confounded you1(

('old your tongue1( =7akov staped.> (3o away, you devil1(

(If you care to know,( %atvey went on in a loud voice, as he, too, began to get angry, (youare a backslider fro 3od and a heretic. The accursed spirits have hidden the true lightfro you$ your prayer is not acceptable to 3od. 5epent before it is too late1 The deathbed of the sinner is terrible1 5epent, brother1(

7akov sei:ed hi by the shoulders and dragged hi away fro the table, while he turnedwhiter than ever, and frightened and bewildered, began uttering, ()hat is it6 )hat&s theatter6( and, struggling and aking efforts to free hiself fro 7akov&s hands, he

accidentally caught hold of his shirt near the neck and tore the collar$ and it seeed toAglaia that he was trying to beat 7akov. She uttered a shriek, snatched up the bottle of 4enten oil and with all her force brought it down straight on the skull of the cousin shehated. %atvey reeled, and in one instant his face becae cal and indifferent. 7akov, breathing heavily, e*cited, and feeling pleasure at the gurgle the bottle had ade, like aliving thing, when it had struck the head, kept hi fro falling and several ties =hereebered this very distinctly> otioned Aglaia towards the iron with his finger$ and onlywhen the blood began trickling through his hands and he heard ashutka&s loud wail, andwhen the ironing!board fell with a crash, and %atvey rolled heavily on it, 7akov left off



feeling anger and understood what had happened.

(4et hi rot, the factory buck1( Aglaia brought out with repulsion, still keeping the iron inher hand. The white bloodstained kerchief slipped on to her shoulders and her grey hair fellin disorder. ('e&s got what he deserved1(

"verything was terrible. ashutka sat on the floor near the stove with the yarn in her hands,sobbing, and continually bowing down, uttering at each bow a gasping sound. But nothingwas so terrible to 7akov as the potato in the blood, on which he was afraid of stepping. andthere was soething else terrible which weighed upon hi like a bad drea and seeed theworst danger, though he could not take it in for the first inute. This was the waiter, Sergey 0ikanoritch, who was standing in the doorway with the reckoning beads in his hands, very pale, looking with horror at what was happening in the kitchen. nly when he turned andwent +uickly into the passage and fro there outside, 7akov grasped who it was andfollowed hi.

)iping his hands on the snow as he went, he reflected. The idea flashed through his indthat their labourer had gone away long before and had asked leave to stay the night at hoein the village$ the day before they had killed a pig, and there were huge bloodstains in thesnow and on the sledge, and even one side of the top of the well was splattered with blood,so that it could not have seeed suspicious even if the whole of 7akov&s faily had beenstained with blood. To conceal the urder would be agoni:ing, but for the policean, whowould whistle and sile ironically, to coe fro the station, for the peasants to arrive and bind 7akov&s and Aglaia&s hands, and take the solenly to the district courthouse andfro there to the town, while everyone on the way would point at the and say irthfully,(They are taking the 3odlies1( !! this seeed to 7akov ore agoni:ing than anything, andhe longed to lengthen out the tie soehow, so as to endure this shae not now, but later,in the future.

(I can lend you a thousand roubles, . . .( he said, overtaking Sergey 0ikanoritch. (If you tellanyone, it will do no good. . . . There&s no bringing the an back, anyway$( and withdifficulty keeping up with the waiter, who did not look round, but tried to walk away faster than ever, he went on/ (I can give you fifteen hundred. . . .(

'e stopped because he was out of breath, while Sergey 0ikanoritch walked on as +uickly asever, probably afraid that he would be killed, too. nly after passing the railway crossingand going half the way fro the crossing to the station, he furtively looked round andwalked ore slowly. 4ights, red and green, were already gleaing in the station and alongthe line$ the wind had fallen, but flakes of snow were still coing down and the road hadturned white again. But 2ust at the station Sergey 0ikanoritch stopped, thought a inute,

and turned resolutely back. It was growing dark.

(blige e with the fifteen hundred, 7akov Ivanitch,( he said, trebling all over. (I agree.(

#I7akov Ivanitch&s oney was in the bank of the town and was invested in second ortgages$he only kept a little at hoe, <ust what was wanted for necessary e*penses. 3oing into the



kitchen he felt for the atchbo*, and while the sulphur was burning with a blue light he hadtie to ake out the figure of %atvey, which was still lying on the floor near the table, butnow it was covered with a white sheet, and nothing could be seen but his boots. A cricketwas chirruping. Aglaia and ashutka were not in the roo, they were both sitting behindthe counter in the tea!roo, spinning yarn in silence. 7akov Ivanitch crossed to his ownroo with a little lap in his hand, and pulled fro under the bed a little bo* in which hekept his oney. This tie there were in it four hundred and twenty one!rouble notes andsilver to the aount of thirty!five roubles$ the notes had an unpleasant heavy sell. Puttingthe oney together in his cap, 7akov Ivanitch went out into the yard and then out of thegate. 'e walked, looking fro side to side, but there was no sign of the waiter.

('i1( cried 7akov.

A dark figure stepped out fro the barrier at the railway crossing and cae irresolutelytowards hi.

()hy do you keep walking about6( said 7akov with ve*ation, as he recogni:ed the waiter.('ere you are$ there is a little less than five hundred. . . . I&ve no ore in the house.(

(#ery well$ . . . very grateful to you,( uttered Sergey 0ikanoritch, taking the oneygreedily and stuffing it into his pockets. 'e was trebling all over, and that was perceptiblein spite of the darkness. (on&t worry yourself, 7akov Ivanitch. . . . )hat should I chatter for/ I cae and went away, that&s all I&ve had to do with it. As the saying is, I know nothingand I can tell nothing . . .( And at once he added with a sigh (Cursed life1(

-or a inute they stood in silence, without looking at each other.

(So it all cae fro a trifle, goodness knows how, . . .( said the waiter, trebling. (I wassitting counting to yself when all at once a noise. . . . I looked through the door, and 2ust

on account of 4enten oil you. . . . )here is he now6(

(4ying there in the kitchen.(

(7ou ought to take hi soewhere. . . . )hy put it off6(

7akov accopanied hi to the station without a word, then went hoe again andharnessed the horse to take %atvey to 4iarovo. 'e had decided to take hi to the forest of 4iarovo, and to leave hi there on the road, and then he would tell everyone that %atveyhad gone off to #edenyapino and had not coe back, and then everyone would think thathe had been killed by soeone on the road. 'e knew there was no deceiving anyone by this,

but to ove, to do soething, to be active, was not as agoni:ing as to sit still and wait. 'ecalled ashutka, and with her carried %atvey out. Aglaia stayed behind to clean up thekitchen.

)hen 7akov and ashutka turned back they were detained at the railway crossing by the barrier being let down. A long goods train was passing, dragged by two engines, breathingheavily, and flinging puffs of crison fire out of their funnels.

The foreost engine uttered a piercing whistle at the crossing in sight of the station.



(It&s whistling, . . .( said ashutka.

The train had passed at last, and the signalan lifted the barrier without haste.

(Is that you, 7akov Ivanitch6 I didn&t know you, so you&ll be rich.(

And then when they had reached hoe they had to go to bed.

Aglaia and ashutka ade theselves a bed in the tea!roo and lay down side by side,while 7akov stretched hiself on the counter. They neither said their prayers nor lightedthe ikon lap before lying down to sleep. All three lay awake till orning, but did not utter a single word, and it seeed to the that all night soeone was walking about in the eptystorey overhead.

Two days later a police inspector and the e*aining agistrate cae fro the town andade a search, first in %atvey&s roo and then in the whole tavern. They +uestioned 7akovfirst of all, and he testified that on the %onday %atvey had gone to #edenyapino to confess,and that he ust have been killed by the sawyers who were working on the line.

And when the e*aining agistrate had asked hi how it had happened that %atvey wasfound on the road, while his cap had turned up at hoe !! surely he had not gone to#edenyapino without his cap6 !! and why they had not found a single drop of blood besidehi in the snow on the road, though his head was sashed in and his face and chest were black with blood, 7akov was confused, lost his head and answered/

(I cannot tell.(

And 2ust what 7akov had so feared happened/ the policean cae, the district police

officer soked in the prayer!roo and Aglaia fell upon hi with abuse and was rude to the police inspector$ and afterwards when 7akov and Aglaia were led out to the yard, the peasants crowded at the gates and said, (They are taking the 3odlies1( and it seeed thatthey were all glad.

At the in+uiry the policean stated positively that 7akov and Aglaia had killed %atvey inorder not to share with hi, and that %atvey had oney of his own, and that if it was notfound at the search evidently 7akov and Aglaia had got hold of it. And ashutka was+uestioned. She said that 8ncle %atvey and Aunt Aglaia +uarrelled and alost foughtevery day over oney, and that 8ncle %atvey was rich, so uch so that he had givensoeone !! (his arling( !! nine hundred roubles.

ashutka was left alone in the tavern. 0o one cae now to drink tea or vodka, and shedivided her tie between cleaning up the roos, drinking ead and eating rolls$ but a fewdays later they +uestioned the signalan at the railway crossing, and he said that late on%onday evening he had seen 7akov and ashutka driving fro 4iarovo. ashutka, too,was arrested, taken to the town and put in prison. It soon becae known, fro what Aglaiasaid, that Sergey 0ikanoritch had been present at the urder. A search was ade in hisroo, and oney was found in an unusual place, in his snowboots under the stove, and theoney was all in sall change, three hundred one!rouble notes. 'e swore he had ade this



oney hiself, and that he hadn&t been in the tavern for a year, but witnesses testified thathe was poor and had been in great want of oney of late, and that he used to go every dayto the tavern to borrow fro %atvey$ and the policean described how on the day of theurder he had hiself gone twice to the tavern with the waiter to help hi to borrow. Itwas recalled at this 2uncture that on %onday evening Sergey 0ikanoritch had not been thereto eet the passenger train, but had gone off soewhere. And he, too, was arrested andtaken to the town.

The trial took place eleven onths later.

7akov Ivanitch looked uch older and uch thinner, and spoke in a low voice like a sick an. 'e felt weak, pitiful, lower in stature that anyone else, and it seeed as though hissoul, too, like his body, had grown older and wasted, fro the pangs of his conscience andfro the dreas and iaginings which never left hi all the while he was in prison. )henit cae out that he did not go to church the president of the court asked hi/

(Are you a dissenter6(

(I can&t tell,( he answered.

'e had no religion at all now$ he knew nothing and understood nothing$ and his old belief was hateful to hi now, and seeed to hi darkness and folly. Aglaia was not in the leastsubdued, and she still went on abusing the dead an, blaing hi for all their isfortunes.Sergey 0ikanoritch had grown a beard instead of whiskers. At the trial he was red and perspiring, and was evidently ashaed of his grey prison coat and of sitting on the sae bench with huble peasants. 'e defended hiself awkwardly, and, trying to prove that hehad not been to the tavern for a whole year, got into an altercation with every witness, andthe spectators laughed at hi. ashutka had grown fat in prison. At the trial she did notunderstand the +uestions put to her, and only said that when they killed 8ncle %atvey she

was dreadfully frightened, but afterwards she did not ind.

All four were found guilty of urder with ercenary otives. 7akov Ivanitch wassentenced to penal servitude for twenty years$ Aglaia for thirteen and a half$ Sergey 0ikanoritch to ten$ ashutka to si*.

#II4ate one evening a foreign steaer stopped in the roads of u? in Sahalin and asked for coal. The captain was asked to wait till orning, but he did not want to wait over an hour,saying that if the weather changed for the worse in the night there would be a risk of his

having to go off without coal. In the 3ulf of Tartary the weather is liable to violent changesin the course of half an hour, and then the shores of Sahalin are dangerous. And already ithad turned fresh, and there was a considerable sea running.

A gang of convicts were sent to the ine fro the #oevodsky prison, the griest andost forbidding of all the prisons in Sahalin. The coal had to be loaded upon barges, andthen they had to be towed by a stea!cutter alongside the steaer which was anchoredore than a +uarter of a ile fro the coast, and then the unloading and reloading had to begin !! an e*hausting task when the barge kept rocking against the steaer and the en



could scarcely keep on their legs for sea!sickness. The convicts, only 2ust roused fro their sleep, still drowsy, went along the shore, stubling in the darkness and clanking their fetters. n the left, scarcely visible, was a tall, steep, e*treely glooy!looking cliff, whileon the right there was a thick ipenetrable ist, in which the sea oaned with a prolongedonotonous sound, (Ah1. . . ah1. . . ah1. . . ah1 . . .( And it was only when the overseer waslighting his pipe, casting as he did so a passing ray of light on the escort with a gun and onthe coarse faces of two or three of the nearest convicts, or when he went with his lanternclose to the water that the white crests of the foreost waves could be discerned.

ne of this gang was 7akov Ivanitch, nicknaed aong the convicts the (Brush,( onaccount of his long beard. 0o one had addressed hi by his nae or his father&s nae for along tie now$ they called hi siply 7ashka.

'e was here in disgrace, as, three onths after coing to Siberia, feeling an intenseirresistible longing for hoe, he had succubed to teptation and run away$ he had soon been caught, had been sentenced to penal servitude for life and given forty lashes. Then hewas punished by flogging twice again for losing his prison clothes, though on each occasionthey were stolen fro hi. The longing for hoe had begun fro the very tie he had been brought to dessa, and the convict train had stopped in the night at Progonnaya$ and7akov, pressing to the window, had tried to see his own hoe, and could see nothing in thedarkness. 'e had no one with who to talk of hoe. 'is sister Aglaia had been sent rightacross Siberia, and he did not know where she was now. ashutka was in Sahalin, but shehad been sent to live with soe e*!convict in a far away settleent$ there was no news of her e*cept that once a settler who had coe to the #oevodsky Prison told 7akov thatashutka had three children. Sergey 0ikanoritch was serving as a footan at a governentofficial&s at u?, but he could not reckon on ever seeing hi, as he was ashaed of beingac+uainted with convicts of the peasant class.

The gang reached the ine, and the en took their places on the +uay. It was said there

would not be any loading, as the weather kept getting worse and the steaer was eaningto set off. They could see three lights. ne of the was oving/ that was the stea!cutter going to the steaer, and it seeed to be coing back to tell the whether the work was to be done or not. Shivering with the autun cold and the dap sea ist, wrapping hiself inhis short torn coat, 7akov Ivanitch looked intently without blinking in the direction inwhich lay his hoe. "ver since he had lived in prison together with en banished here froall ends of the earth !! with 5ussians, 8krainians, Tatars, 3eorgians, Chinese, 3ypsies,<ews !! and ever since he had listened to their talk and watched their sufferings, he had begun to turn again to 3od, and it seeed to hi at last that he had learned the true faith for which all his faily, fro his grandother

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Anton Tchekhov - The Murder