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Updated: May 12, 2025
Your wife is running out every minute to fetch water or carry out the slops. Why shouldn't you run instead, you rascal? And then you must remember, Franz Stepanitch, that he has six acres of garden, that he has pigsties and poultry houses, but it is all wasted and no use. The flower garden is overgrown with weeds and almost baked dry, while the boys play ball in the kitchen garden.
In the wilderness is our paradise, ... para-dise.... And to this house, from beginning of time, great happiness, ... o ... o ... o ... The voice muttered something inarticulate, and again, after a protracted yawn, there came the hoarse laugh. This laugh broke out every time, as it were, involuntarily, and every time it was followed by vigorous spitting. 'Ah, me! Stepanitch isn't here!
"That's Anfissa, the midwife who brought our Fedya into the world," answers his wife. "Always hanging about . . . these cadging toadies!" "There's no making you out, Stepan Stepanitch. You asked her yourself, and now you scold." "I am not scolding; I am speaking. You might find something to do, my dear, instead of sitting with your hands in your lap trying to pick a quarrel.
Am I obliged to give an account of my doings to any one? It's my own money I lose, I suppose? What I spend as well as what is spent in this house belongs to me me. Do you hear? To me!" And so on, all in the same style. But at no other time is Stepan Stepanitch so reasonable, virtuous, stern or just as at dinner, when all his household are sitting about him. It usually begins with the soup.
I went to bed rather early. I was awakened by a knocking under the window. It was my turn to be startled! The knock was repeated and so insistently distinct that one could have no doubt of its reality. I got up, opened the window and saw Tyeglev. Wrapped in his great-coat, with his cap pulled over his eyes, he stood motionless. "Ilya Stepanitch!" I cried, "is that you? I gave up expecting you.
But he broke off at that word, for he saw Porfiry Kapitonitch's cheeks grow round and flushed while his eyes screwed up he was on the point of breaking into a guffaw. "But if one admits the possibility of the supernatural, the possibility of its participation in everyday life, so to say," Anton Stepanitch began again, "then allow me to ask, what becomes of common sense?"
"Someone is knocking again!" I could not help laughing. "No, excuse me, Ilya Stepanitch! This time it is your nerves. You see, it is getting light. In ten minutes the sun will be up it is past three o'clock and ghosts have no power in the day." Tyeglev cast a gloomy glance at me and muttering through his teeth "good-bye," lay down on the bench and turned his back on me.
To be sure, here is Prince Kulmametov hobbling along the boulevard; and his friend, Serge Varaksin, waves his hand to him, shouting: "Ivan Stepanitch, allons souper, make haste, zhay angazha Rigol-bouche itself!"
When Ivan Petrovitch sees them off at the station, he wipes his tears as the train starts, and shouts: "Good-bye, if you please." And he waves his handkerchief. IT is, as a rule, after losing heavily at cards or after a drinking-bout when an attack of dyspepsia is setting in that Stepan Stepanitch Zhilin wakes up in an exceptionally gloomy frame of mind.
At this point in the story Skvorevitch sneezed; Kinarevitch sneezed, too he never failed in anything to follow his colleague's example. Anton Stepanitch looked approvingly at both of them. "Well," Porfiry Kapitonitch went on, "well, so I lay there and again could not go to sleep.
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