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Updated: June 9, 2025
He wanted doubtless to restore our spirits; but we all shuddered at his first note, and Radilov asked him to be quiet. 'Still what is past, is past, he continued; 'we cannot recall the past, and in the end ... all is for the best in this world below, as I think Voltaire said, he added hurriedly. 'Yes, I replied, 'of course.
'Yes, Radilov agreed, 'I have experienced that in my own case. I, as you know, have been married. It was not for long three years; my wife died in child-birth. I thought that I should not survive her; I was fearfully miserable, broken down, but I could not weep I wandered about like one possessed. They decked her out, as they always do, and laid her on a table in this very room.
From the hall, which was decorated with various parti-coloured pictures and check curtains, we went into a small room Radilov's study. I took off my hunting accoutrements, and put my gun in a corner; the young man in the long-skirted coat busily brushed me down. 'Well, now, let us go into the drawing-room. said Radilov cordially. 'I will make you acquainted with my mother. I walked after him.
I did not allow him to finish, but assured him that, on the contrary, it would be a great pleasure to me to dine with him. 'Well, you know best. We went into the house. A young man in a long coat of stout blue cloth met us on the steps. Radilov at once told him to bring Yermolai some vodka; my huntsman made a respectful bow to the back of the munificent host.
The little path turned to one side; from behind thick willows and birches we caught sight of a little grey old house, with a boarded roof and a winding flight of steps. Radilov stopped short. 'But, he said, with a good-humoured and direct look in my face, on second thoughts ... perhaps you don't care to come and see me, after all.... In that case
At the end of dinner Fyodor Miheitch was beginning to 'celebrate' the hosts and guests, but Radilov looked at me and asked him to be quiet; the old man passed his hand over his lips, began to blink, bowed, and sat down again, but only on the very edge of his chair. After dinner I returned with Radilov to his study.
He danced, at times skipping boldly, and then dropping his little bald head with his scraggy neck stretched out as if he were dying, stamping his feet on the ground, and sometimes bending his knees with obvious difficulty. A voice cracked with age came from his toothless mouth. Radilov must have guessed from the expression of my face that Fedya's 'art' did not give me much pleasure.
'Have you news of your son? I asked her at last. The old lady began to weep. I made no more inquiries about Radilov. Picture to yourselves, gentle readers, a stout, tall man of seventy, with a face reminding one somewhat of the face of Kriloff, clear and intelligent eyes under overhanging brows, dignified in bearing, slow in speech, and deliberate in movement: there you have Ovsyanikov.
'Well, Fedya, a dance! cried Radilov. Fedya jumped up and walked about the room with that artificial and peculiar motion which is affected by the man who plays the part of a goat with a tame bear. He sang meanwhile, 'While at our Gates....
The next morning I went in to look at my wife: it was summer-time, the sunshine fell upon her from head to foot, and it was so bright. One of her eyes was not quite shut, and on this eye a fly was moving.... I fell down in a heap, and when I came to myself, I began to weep and weep ... I could not stop myself.... Radilov was silent.
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