Five Great Short Stories

CHAPTER IV Tears of Tania

EGOR SEMENYCH and Tania often quarreled and said unpleasant things to each other.

One morning they had a quarrel. Tania began to cry and went to her room. She did not appear at dinner nor at tea. At first Egor Semenych went about looking very important and sulky, as if he wished everybody to know that for him the interests of justice and order stood above everything in the world, but soon he was unable to maintain that character and became depressed. He wandered sadly about the park and constantly sighed: “Oh, good God, good God!” At dinner he would not eat a crumb. At last feeling guilty and having qualms of conscience he knocked at his daughter’s locked door and called to her timidly:

“Tania, Tania!”

And in answer he heard on the other side of the door a weak voice exhausted with crying, but still very positive, reply:

“Leave me alone, I beg you!”

The master’s trouble affected the whole house, even the people working in the garden were under its influence. Kovrin was immersed in his own interesting work, but at last he too became sad and felt awkward. In order in some measure to dissipate the general gloomy mood he decided to intervene, and early in the evening he knocked at Tania’s door. He was admitted.

“Oh, oh, what a shame!” he began jokingly, looking with astonishment at Tania’s tear-stained, sad little face that was all covered with red blotches. “Is it possible it is so serious? Oh, oh!”

“If you only knew how he tortures me!” she said, and tears—bitter, plentiful tears—welled up in her large eyes. “He has worn me quite out!” she continued, wringing her hands. “I said nothing to him . . . nothing at all. . . . I only said there is no need to keep . . . extra workmen if . . . if it is possible to get day labourers whenever they are wanted. Why, why the workmen have been doing nothing for a whole week. . . . I . . . I only said this and he shouted at me and he told me . . . many offensive, many deeply insulting things. Why, why?”

“Enough! Enough!” Kovrin said as he arranged a lock of her hair. “You have abused each other, you have wept, and that’s enough. One must not be angry for long, that’s wrong . . . all the more because he loves you tenderly.”

“He . . . he has spoilt my whole life,” Tania continued. “I am only insulted and . . . wounded here. He considers me superfluous in his house. What am I to do? He is right. I’ll go away from here to-morrow and become a telegraph girl. . . . Let him . . .”

“Well, well, well. . . . Tania, don’t cry. You mustn’t, my dear. . . . You are both hot-headed, irritable, and you are both in fault. Come along, I’ll make peace between you.”

Kovrin spoke affectionately and persuasively, but she continued to cry, her shoulders shaking and her hands clenched, as if a terrible misfortune had befallen her. He was all the more sorry for her because her grief was not serious, yet she suffered deeply. What trifles were sufficient to make this poor creature unhappy for a whole day, yes, perhaps even for her whole life! While comforting Tania, Kovrin thought that besides this girl and her father he might search the whole world without being able to find any other people who loved him as one of their family. If it had not been for these two people perhaps he, who had lost both his parents in his early childhood, would not have known to his very death what sincere affection was, nor that naïve, uncritical love that only exists between very near blood relatives. And he felt that his half-diseased, overtaxed nerves were drawn towards the nerves of this weeping, shuddering girl as iron is drawn to the magnet. He could never love a healthy, strong, red-cheeked woman, but pale, fragile, unhappy Tania attracted him.

He was pleased to stroke her hair, pat her shoulders, press her hands and wipe away her tears. At last she stopped crying; but for a long time she continued to complain about her father, and of her difficult, unbearable life in that house, begging Kovrin to enter into her position; then she gradually began to smile and to sigh that God had given her such a bad character, and at last she laughed aloud, called herself a fool and ran out of the room.

Shortly after, when Kovrin went into the garden, Egor Semenych and Tania were walking together in the avenue eating black bread and salt (they were both hungry), as if nothing had happened.