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And Ahineev was so relieved that in his joy he drank four glasses too many. After escorting the young people to their room, he went to bed and slept like an innocent babe, and next day he thought no more of the incident with the sturgeon. But, alas! man proposes, but God disposes. An evil tongue did its evil work, and Ahineev's strategy was of no avail.
Yegor Ivanitch attacked the mulled wine, and before the policeman had finished his glass succeeded in telling him a great many interesting things. He could not be silent. SERGE KAPITONICH AHINEEV, the writing master, was marrying his daughter to the teacher of history and geography. The wedding festivities were going off most successfully.
"Who's a queer fish?" asked Tarantulov, coming up. "Why he, over there Vankin! I went into the kitchen . . ." And he told the story of Vankin. ". . . He amused me, queer fish! I'd rather kiss a dog than Marfa, if you ask me," added Ahineev. He looked round and saw behind him Mzda. "We were talking of Vankin," he said. "Queer fish, he is!
On two tables the accessories, the drinks and light refreshments, were set out in artistic disorder. The cook, Marfa, a red-faced woman whose figure was like a barrel with a belt around it, was bustling about the tables. "Show me the sturgeon, Marfa," said Ahineev, rubbing his hands and licking his lips. "What a perfume! I could eat up the whole kitchen. Come, show me the sturgeon."
I was standing in the kitchen, you know, looking at the sturgeon. . . ." And so on. Within half an hour or so all the guests knew the incident of the sturgeon and Vankin. "Let him tell away now!" thought Ahineev, rubbing his hands. "Let him! He'll begin telling his story and they'll say to him at once, 'Enough of your improbable nonsense, you fool, we know all about it!"
He'll disgrace me to all the town, the brute." Ahineev went timidly into the drawing-room and looked stealthily round for Vankin. Vankin was standing by the piano, and, bending down with a jaunty air, was whispering something to the inspector's sister-in-law, who was laughing. "Talking about me!" thought Ahineev. "About me, blast him! And she believes it . . . believes it! She laughs! Mercy on us!
No, I can't let it pass . . . I can't. I must do something to prevent his being believed. . . . I'll speak to them all, and he'll be shown up for a fool and a gossip." Ahineev scratched his head, and still overcome with embarrassment, went up to Pasdequoi. "I've just been in the kitchen to see after the supper," he said to the Frenchman.
Vankin's sincerity did not admit of doubt. It was evidently not he who was the author of the slander. "But who, then, who?" Ahineev wondered, going over all his acquaintances in his mind and beating himself on the breast. "Who, then?" Who, then? We, too, ask the reader. THE earth was like an oven.
You see, there are rumors that you are romancing with that . . . cook. . . . It's nothing to do with me, but . . . flirt with her, kiss her . . . as you please, but don't let it be so public, please. I entreat you! Don't forget that you're a schoolmaster." Ahineev turned cold and faint. He went home like a man stung by a whole swarm of bees, like a man scalded with boiling water.
"I'm not kissing," said Ahineev in confusion. "Who told you so, you fool? I was only . . . I smacked my lips . . . in reference to . . . as an indication of . . . pleasure . . . at the sight of the fish." "Tell that to the marines!" The intrusive face vanished, wearing a broad grin. Ahineev flushed. "Hang it!" he thought, "the beast will go now and talk scandal.
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