Fifty-Two Stories

THE CHORUS GIRL

ONCE, WHEN SHE WAS YOUNGER, prettier, more full voiced, her admirer, Nikolai Petrovich Kolpakov, was sitting in the mezzanine of her dacha. It was unbearably hot and stifling. Kolpakov had just finished dinner and, having drunk a whole bottle of bad port, felt out of sorts and ill. They were both bored and were waiting for it to cool off in order to go for a walk.

Suddenly and unexpectedly the doorbell rang. Kolpakov, who was in his shirtsleeves and wearing slippers, jumped up and looked questioningly at Pasha.

“Must be the mailman, or maybe one of my girlfriends,” said the singer.

Kolpakov was not embarrassed either by Pasha’s friends or by mailmen, but, just in case, he grabbed his clothes and went to the next room, while Pasha ran to open the door. To her great surprise, it was neither a mailman nor a girlfriend who stood at the door, but an unknown woman, young, beautiful, elegantly dressed, and, by all appearances, of a respectable sort.

The unknown woman was pale and breathing heavily, as if after climbing a steep stairway.

“What can I do for you?” asked Pasha.

The lady did not answer at once. She took a step forward, slowly looked around the room, and sat down as if she were too tired or unwell to go on standing; then she moved her pale lips for a long time, trying to utter something.

“Is my husband here?” she asked, finally, raising to Pasha her big eyes with their red, tear-stained eyelids.

“What husband?” Pasha whispered and suddenly became so frightened that her hands and feet went cold. “What husband?” she repeated, beginning to tremble.

“My husband…Nikolai Petrovich Kolpakov.”

“N-no, madam…I…I don’t know any husband.”

A minute passed in silence. The unknown woman wiped her pale lips several times with a handkerchief, holding her breath to overcome her inner trembling, while Pasha stood motionless before her as if rooted to the spot and looked at her with perplexity and fear.

“So you say he’s not here?” the lady asked in a firm voice now and smiling somehow strangely.

“I…I don’t know who you’re asking about.”

“You’re vile, mean, repulsive…,” the stranger muttered, looking at Pasha with hatred and loathing. “Yes, yes…you’re vile. I’m very, very glad that I can finally tell you so!”

Pasha felt that she made on this lady in black, with angry eyes and slender white fingers, the impression of something vile and ugly, and she became ashamed of her plump red cheeks, the pockmarks on her nose, and the fringe on her forehead that refused to stay combed back. And it seemed to her that if she were thin, unpowdered, and without the fringe, it would be possible to conceal that she was not a respectable girl, and it would not be so frightening and shameful to stand before this unknown, mysterious lady.

“Where is my husband?” the lady went on. “However, whether he’s here or not makes no difference to me, but I must tell you that the embezzlement has been discovered and they’re looking for Nikolai Petrovich…They’re going to arrest him. That’s what you have done!”

The lady got up and paced the room in strong agitation. Pasha looked at her and was too frightened to understand.

“They’ll find him today and arrest him,” the lady said and sobbed, and in that sound could be heard both offense and vexation. “I know who drove him to such horror! Vile, repulsive! Loathsome, bought woman!” (The lady’s lips twisted and her nose wrinkled with loathing.) “I’m powerless…listen, you mean woman!…I’m powerless, you’re stronger than I am, but there’s someone who will intercede for me and my children! God sees everything! He is just! He will punish you for each of my tears, for all my sleepless nights! The time will come, and you will remember me!”

Again there was silence. The lady paced the room wringing her hands, and Pasha went on looking at her dully, with perplexity, not understanding and expecting something dreadful from her.

“I don’t know anything, madam!” she said and suddenly began to cry.

“You’re lying!” the lady shouted and flashed her eyes spitefully. “I know everything! I’ve known about you for a long time now! I know over this past month he spent every day with you!”

“Yes. So what? What of it? I have many guests, but I don’t force anybody. Free is as free does.”

“I tell you: there’s been an embezzlement! He embezzled other people’s money at the office! For the sake of a person…like you, for your sake he committed a crime. Listen,” the lady said in a resolute tone, stopping in front of Pasha. “You cannot have any principles, you live only to do evil, that is your goal, but it’s unthinkable that you have fallen so low as to have no trace of human feeling left! He has a wife, children…If he is condemned and exiled, I and the children will die of hunger…Understand that! But there is a way to save him and us from poverty and disgrace. If I deposit nine hundred roubles today, he will be left in peace. Just nine hundred roubles!”

“What nine hundred roubles?” Pasha asked softly. “I…I don’t know…I didn’t take…”

“I’m not asking you for nine hundred roubles…you have no money, and I have no need of what is yours. I am asking for something else…Men usually give expensive things to the likes of you. Just give me back the things my husband has given you!”

“Madam, he never gave me anything!” Pasha shrieked, beginning to understand.

“Then where is the money? He squandered his, mine, and other people’s…Where did it all go? Listen, I beg you! I was indignant and said all kinds of unpleasant things to you, but I apologize. You must hate me, I know, but if you’re capable of compassion, put yourself in my place! I implore you, give me back those things!”

“Hm…,” said Pasha, and she shrugged her shoulders. “I’d be glad to, but, God strike me dead, he never gave me anything. In all conscience. Though, to tell the truth,” the singer became embarrassed, “he once brought me two little things. Here, I’ll give them to you, if you like…”

Pasha pulled open one of the little drawers in her dressing table and took out a hollow gold bracelet and a cheap little ring with a ruby.

“Here!” she said, giving these things to the visitor.

The lady flushed deeply, and her face quivered. She was insulted.

“What’s this you’re giving me?” she said. “I’m not asking for alms, but for what does not belong to you…what you, profiting from your situation, extracted from my husband…that weak, unfortunate man…On Thursday, when I saw you and my husband at the pier, you were wearing expensive brooches and bracelets. So there’s no point in playing the innocent lamb. I ask you for the last time, will you give me those things or not?”

“You’re a strange one, by God…,” said Pasha, beginning to be offended. “I assure you that, apart from this bracelet and ring, I haven’t seen a thing from your husband. He only brought me little pastries.”

“Little pastries…,” the woman smirked. “At home the children have nothing to eat, and here it’s little pastries. So you flatly refuse to return the things?”

Receiving no reply, the lady sat down and, pondering something, fixed her eyes on one spot.

“What am I to do now?” she said. “If I don’t find nine hundred roubles, he will perish, and I and the children will perish, too. Shall I kill this loathsome creature or go on my knees to her?”

The lady pressed her handkerchief to her face and burst into sobs.

“I beg you!” could be heard through her sobs. “You bankrupted and ruined my husband. Save him…You have no compassion for him, but the children…the children…What are the children guilty of?”

Pasha imagined little children standing in the street and crying from hunger, and burst into sobs herself.

“What can I do, madam?” she said. “You say I’m a loathsome creature and I’ve ruined Nikolai Petrovich, but, as God is my witness…I assure you I have never profited from him…In our chorus, only Motya has a rich patron, and the rest of us get by on bread and kvass. Nikolai Petrovich is a cultivated and delicate man, well, so I received him. We can’t do without it.”

“I’m asking for the things! Give me the things! I weep…I humiliate myself…If you like, I’ll go on my knees to you! If you like!”

Pasha cried out in fear and waved her hands. She sensed that this pale, beautiful lady, who spoke nobly, as in a theater, was actually capable of going on her knees to her, precisely out of pride, out of nobility, to elevate herself and humiliate the chorus girl.

“All right, I’ll give you the things!” Pasha started bustling about, wiping her eyes. “If you like. Only they don’t come from Nikolai Petrovich…I got them from my other guests. As you please, ma’am…”

Pasha pulled open the upper drawer of the chest, took out a brooch with diamonds, a coral necklace, several rings, a bracelet, and gave them all to the lady.

“Take them, if you wish, only I haven’t made any profit from your husband. Take them, get rich!” Pasha went on, insulted by the threat of going on her knees. “And if you’re his noble…lawful wife, you should have kept him by you. So there! I didn’t invite him, he came on his own…”

Through her tears the lady looked over the things presented to her and said:

“This isn’t all…It wouldn’t make even five hundred roubles.”

Pasha impulsively flung a gold watch, a cigarette case, and a pair of cufflinks at her and said, spreading her arms:

“I have nothing else left…Go on and search me!”

The visitor sighed, wrapped the things in a handkerchief with trembling hands, and not saying a word, not even nodding her head, went out.

The door to the next room opened, and Kolpakov came in. He was pale and shook his head nervously, as if he had just swallowed something bitter. Tears glistened in his eyes.

“What things did you bring me?” Pasha fell upon him. “When, if I may ask?”

“Things…That’s nonsense—things!” Kolpakov said and shook his head. “My God! She wept, she humiliated herself before you…”

“I’m asking you: what things did you bring me?” cried Pasha.

“My God, she, decent, proud, pure…even wanted to go on her knees before…before this slut! And I drove her to it! I made it happen!”

He clutched his head and moaned:

“No, I’ll never forgive myself! Never! Get away from me, you…trash!” he cried in revulsion, stepping back from Pasha and pushing her away from him with trembling hands. “She wanted to go on her knees and…before whom? Before you! Oh, my God!”

He dressed quickly and, squeamishly avoiding Pasha, went to the door and left.

Pasha lay down and began to cry loudly. She was sorry now for the things she had given away on an impulse, and she was offended. She remembered how a shopkeeper had given her a beating three years ago for no reason at all, and she cried even louder.

1886