Little Apples

AN IDYLL—BUT ALAS!

“My uncle is such a wonderful man,” Grisha, Captain Nasechkin’s hard-up nephew and sole heir, would say to me. “I love him with all my heart! Why don’t you come meet him? It would make him so happy!”

Whenever Grisha spoke of his uncle his eyes filled with tears. And I will say to his credit that he was not ashamed of these tears and was quite prepared to cry in public. I accepted his invitation, and a week ago dropped by to see the old captain. When I entered the hall and peered into the drawing room, I witnessed a most touching scene. The wizened captain was sitting in a large armchair holding a cup of tea, and Grisha was kneeling next to him, tenderly stirring it. The pretty hand of Grisha’s fiancée was caressing the old man’s leathery neck, while she and Grisha squabbled as to who would be the first to shower the dear uncle with kisses.

“And now, sweet children of my heart, my sole heirs, you must kiss each other!” Captain Nasechkin spluttered with joy.

An enviable bond united the three. Even though I am a hard man, I must admit that my heart was gripped by joy as I gazed at them.

“Yes indeed!” Captain Nasechkin was saying to them. “I think I can say I’ve had a good life! And may God grant a good life to everyone! How many fine fillets of sturgeon I have enjoyed, like the one I ate back in Skopin! Even today it makes my mouth water!”

“Oh, tell us all about it!” I heard Grisha’s fiancée plead.

“So there I was in the town of Skopin with all my thousands of rubles, and . . . er . . . I went straight to . . . er . . . Rikov . . . Yes, to Mr. Rikov. What a man! Good as gold! A gentleman! He received me like I was family . . . you’d have thought he wanted something from me . . . but no, like I was family! He served me coffee, and after the coffee, a little snack . . . and the table . . . the table was filled with bottles and food . . . and a big fat sturgeon . . . from one corner to the other . . . lobster . . . caviar. You’d have thought it was a restaurant!”

I entered into the drawing room; it happened to be the day on which news had just reached Moscow by wire that the Skopin Bank had collapsed.

After we were introduced, Nasechkin said to me: “I am rejoicing in the company of these sweet children!” And, turning back to them, continued proudly: “Not to mention, you only find the best society in Skopin . . . government officials, men of the cloth . . . priests, monks . . . with every glass of vodka, you get a blessing then and there . . . and the host was covered in so many medals that even a general would have gasped! The moment we finished the sturgeon they brought out another! We ate that one too. And then they brought out some fish soup . . . pheasants!”

“If I were in your shoes,” I told the captain, “I would be having heartburn at today’s news, but I must say I am amazed how well you are taking things. Did you lose a lot of money with Rikov?”

“What do you mean, ‘lose’?”

“Lose money—when the bank collapsed!”

“Poppycock! Balderdash! Old wives’ tales!”

“You mean you haven’t heard the news? Good Lord, Captain Nasechkin! But that is . . . that is absolutely . . . Here, read this!”

I handed him the newspaper I had in my pocket. Nasechkin put on his spectacles and, smiling dismissively, began to read. The further he read, the paler and gaunter his face grew.

“It has co-co-collapsed!” he gasped, all his limbs beginning to quake. “Oh the calamities raining down on my poor head!”

Grisha’s face flushed a deep purple. He read the article and turned white. His hand trembling, he fumbled for his hat. His fiancée tottered.

“My God!” I exclaimed. “Are you telling me that none of you knew? The whole of Moscow is agog!”

An hour later I was alone with the captain, still trying to comfort him.

“Don’t worry, Captain Nasechkin! It isn’t the end of the world! You may have lost all your money, but you still have your darling nephew and his fiancée!”

“How right you are! Money brings trouble . . . but I still have those dear children . . . yes!”

But alas! A week later I ran into Grisha.

“Why don’t you go see your poor uncle?” I asked him. “You really should—he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of you!”

“He can go to hell for all I care!” Grisha said. “The old fool! Couldn’t he have found himself a better bank?”

“Still, you ought to go see him! He’s your uncle after all!”

“Him? You must be joking! What gave you that idea? He’s my stepmother’s third cousin thrice removed!

“Well, at least send your fiancée to see him.”

“Yes, and as for that—I don’t know why the devil you had to show her that newspaper before our wedding day! She’s shown me the door. She was waiting to pounce on my uncle’s goods and chattel too, the silly fool! You can imagine how disappointed she is!”