A Sportsman's Sketches, Volume 2: Works of Ivan Turgenev, Volume 2Turgenev, Ivan Sergeevich
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A Sportsman's Sketches, Volume 2: Works of Ivan Turgenev, Volume 2
Turgenev, Ivan Sergeevich
Country life -- Russia -- Fiction; Peasants -- Russia -- Fiction; Russia -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
'You might as well be married to me at once!' jested Perfishka, giving
the cook a dig in the ribs with his elbow. 'No fear! the master'll never
come back to us; and here I shall be bored to death all alone!'
IX
A year passed... a whole year: no news had come of Panteley Eremyitch.
The cook was dead, Perfishka himself made up his mind to abandon the
house and go off to town, where he was constantly being persuaded to
come by his cousin, apprenticed to a barber; when suddenly a rumour was
set afloat that his master was coming back. The parish deacon got a
letter from Panteley Eremyitch himself, in which he informed him of his
intention of arriving at Bezsonovo, and asked him to prepare his servant
to be ready for his immediate return. These words Perfishka understood
to mean that he was to sweep up the place a bit. He did not, however,
put much confidence in the news; he was convinced, though, that the
deacon had spoken the truth, when a few days later Panteley Eremyitch in
person appeared in the courtyard, riding on Malek-Adel.
Perfishka rushed up to his master, and, holding the stirrup, would have
helped him to dismount, but the latter got off alone, and with a
triumphant glance about him, cried in a loud voice: 'I said I would find
Malek-Adel, and I have found him in spite of my enemies, and of Fate
itself!' Perfishka went up to kiss his hand, but Tchertop-hanov paid no
attention to his servant's devotion. Leading Malek-Adel after him by the
rein, he went with long strides towards the stable. Perfishka looked
more intently at his master, and his heart sank. 'Oh, how thin and old
he's grown in a year; and what a stern, grim face!' One would have
thought Panteley Eremyitch would have been rejoicing, that he had gained
his end; and he was rejoicing, certainly... and yet Perfishka's heart
sank: he even felt a sort of dread. Tchertop-hanov put the horse in its
old place, gave him a light pat on the back, and said, 'There! now
you're at home again; and mind what you're about.' The same day he hired
a freedman out of work as watchman, established himself again in his
rooms, and began living as before....
Not altogether as before, however... but of that later...
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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