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Updated: May 26, 2025
THE turner, Grigory Petrov, who had been known for years past as a splendid craftsman, and at the same time as the most senseless peasant in the Galtchinskoy district, was taking his old woman to the hospital. He had to drive over twenty miles, and it was an awful road. A government post driver could hardly have coped with it, much less an incompetent sluggard like Grigory.
I went to the window and shouted to the master, ‘It’s I.’ And he shouted to me, ‘He’s been, he’s been; he’s run away.’ He meant Dmitri Fyodorovitch had been. ‘He’s killed Grigory!’ ‘Where?’ I whispered. ‘There, in the corner,’ he pointed. He was whispering, too. ‘Wait a bit,’ I said.
She has the secret of it, and she always gives it to Grigory Vassilyevitch three times a year when his lumbago’s so bad he is almost paralyzed by it.
'When I went to his wedding, he said. They called the police inspector, took the man away.... Look out, Grigory Petrovitch, that nothing comes of it, no talk...." "Gra-ndfather!" the same voice called tauntingly outside the gates. "Gra-andfather!" A silence followed. "Ah, little children, little children, little children..." Crutch muttered rapidly, and he got up. He was overcome with drowsiness.
They’ve got a doctor down, too, want to prove I’m mad. I won’t have that! Katerina Ivanovna wants to do her ‘duty’ to the end, whatever the strain!” Mitya smiled bitterly. “The cat! Hard-hearted creature! She knows that I said of her at Mokroe that she was a woman of ‘great wrath.’ They repeated it. Yes, the facts against me have grown numerous as the sands of the sea. Grigory sticks to his point.
At some yards from the closed tent, he paused to speak to Grigory, Brodsky's orderly, who stood, as usual, on guard, but at a prescribed distance. "Grigory, I think the Colonel needs your assistance. He is indisposed; and you would do well to get him a drink of vodka."
Of late you’ve been going upstairs to your room early every evening, and yesterday you did not come down at all, and so perhaps you don’t know how carefully he has begun to lock himself in at night, and even if Grigory Vassilyevitch comes to the door he won’t open to him till he hears his voice. But Grigory Vassilyevitch does not come, because I wait upon him alone in his room now.
Going back into the house, Grigory lighted a lantern, took the garden key, and taking no notice of the hysterical fears of his wife, who was still persuaded that she heard a child crying, and that it was her own baby crying and calling for her, went into the garden in silence.
He leaned his face on the old father's shoulder and gave a sob. "Grigory Petrovitch, let us weep, let us weep with joy!" he said in a thin voice, and then at once burst out laughing in a loud bass guffaw. "Ho-ho-ho! This is a fine daughter-in-law for you too! Everything is in its place in her; all runs smoothly, no creaking, the mechanism works well, lots of screws in it."
"Leave off, Grigory Nikolaevitch!" "What are you afraid of, dear?" he asked softly. "What is there dreadful about it? It's simply that you're not used to it." If a woman protested he always interpreted it as a sign that he had made an impression on her and attracted her.
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