A Reckless Character, and Other StoriesTurgenev, Ivan Sergeevich
General
A Reckless Character, and Other Stories
Turgenev, Ivan Sergeevich
Russia -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Turgenev, Ivan Sergeevich, 1818-1883 -- Translations into English
About forty versts from our village there dwelt, many years ago, the
great-uncle of my mother, a retired Sergeant of the Guards and a fairly
wealthy landed proprietor, Alexyei Sergyeitch Telyegin, on his ancestral
estate, Sukhodol. He never went anywhere himself, and therefore did not
visit us; but I was sent to pay my respects to him a couple of times a
year, at first with my governor, and later on alone. Alexyei Sergyeitch
always received me very cordially, and I spent three or four days with
him. He was already an old man when I made his acquaintance; I remember
that I was twelve years old at my first visit, and he was already over
seventy. He had been born under the Empress Elizabeth, in the last year
of her reign. He lived alone with his wife, Malanya Pavlovna; she was
ten years younger than he. They had had two daughters who had been
married long before, and rarely visited Sukhodol; there had been
quarrels between them and their parents,[28] and Alexyei Sergyeitch
hardly ever mentioned them.
I see that ancient, truly noble steppe home as though it stood before me
now. Of one story, with a huge mezzanine,[29] erected at the beginning
of the present century from wonderfully thick pine beams--such beams
were brought at that epoch from the Zhizdrin pine forests; there is no
trace of them nowadays!--it was very spacious and contained a multitude
of rooms, which were decidedly low-ceiled and dark, it is true, and the
windows were mere slits in the walls, for the sake of warmth. As was
proper, the offices and the house-serfs' cottages surrounded the
manor-house on all sides, and a park adjoined it, small but with fine
fruit-trees, pellucid apples and seedless pears; for ten versts round
about stretched out the flat, black-loam steppe. There was no lofty
object for the eye: neither a tree nor a belfry; only here and there a
windmill reared itself aloft with holes in its wings; it was a regular
Sukhodol! (Dry Valley). Inside the house the rooms were filled with
ordinary, plain furniture; rather unusual was a verst-post which stood
on a window-sill in the hall, and bore the following inscription:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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