A Russian Proprietor, and Other StoriesTolstoy, Leo, graf
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A Russian Proprietor, and Other Stories
Tolstoy, Leo, graf
Russia -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Tolstoy, Leo, graf, 1828-1910 -- Translations into English
"But how can he settle accounts when we are getting into debt all the time?
Money or no money, yet the winter here has cost eighty thousand rubles, and
now there isn't a silver ruble in the house. And all owing to his
kind-heartedness. You see, he's such a simple bárin that it would be hard
to find his equal: that's the very reason that he's going to ruin,--going
to ruin, all for nothing." And the old man almost wept.
Nekhliudof woke up about eleven, and called me in.
"They haven't sent me any money yet," says he. "But it isn't my fault. Shut
the door," says he.
I shut the door.
"Here," says he, "take my watch or this diamond pin, and pawn it. They
will give you more than one hundred and eighty rubles for it, and when I
get my money I will redeem it," says he.
"No matter, sir," says I. "If you don't happen to have any money, it's no
consequence; let me have the watch if you don't mind. I can wait for your
convenience."
I can see that the watch is worth more than three hundred.
Very good. I pawned the watch for a hundred rubles, and carried him the
ticket. "You will owe me eighty rubles," says I, "and you had better redeem
the watch."
And so it happened that he still owed me eighty rubles.
After that he began to come to us again every day. I don't know how matters
stood between him and the prince, but at all events he kept coming with him
all the time, or else they would go and play cards up-stairs with Fedotka.
And what queer accounts those three men kept between them! this one would
lend money to the other, the other to the third, yet who it was that owed
the money you never could find out.
And in this way he kept on coming our way for well-nigh two years; only it
was to be plainly seen that he was a changed man, such a devil-may-care
manner he assumed at times. He even went so far at times as to borrow a
ruble of me to pay a hack-driver; and yet he would still play with the
prince for a hundred rubles stake.
He grew gloomy, thin, sallow. As soon as he came he used to order a little
glass of absinthe, take a bite of something, and drink some port wine, and
then he would grow more lively.
He came one time before dinner; it happened to be carnival time, and he
began to play with a hussar.
Says he, "Do you want to play for a stake?"
"Very well," says he. "What shall it be?"
"A bottle of Claude Vougeaux? What do you say?"
"All right."
Very good. The hussar won, and they went off for their dinner. They sat
down at table, and then Nekhliudof says, "Simon, a bottle of Claude
Vougeaux, and see that you warm it to the proper point."
Simon went out, brought in the dinner, but no wine.
"Well," says he, "where's the wine?"
Simon hurried out, brought in the roast.
"Let us have the wine," says he.
Simon makes no reply.
"What's got into you? Here we've almost finished dinner, and no wine. Who
wants to drink with dessert?"
Simon hurried out. "The landlord," says he, "wants to speak to you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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