A Sportsman's Sketches, Volume 2: Works of Ivan Turgenev, Volume 2Turgenev, Ivan Sergeevich
General
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
If anyone had looked at Tchertop-hanov then; if anyone could have been a
witness of the sullen exasperation with which he drained glass after
glass--he would inevitably have felt an involuntary shudder of fear. The
night came on, the tallow candle burnt dimly on the table.
Tchertop-hanov ceased wandering from corner to corner; he sat all
flushed, with dull eyes, which he dropped at one time on the floor, at
another fixed obstinately on the dark window; he got up, poured out some
vodka, drank it off, sat down again, again fixed his eyes on one point,
and did not stir--only his breathing grew quicker and his face still
more flushed. It seemed as though some resolution were ripening within
him, which he was himself ashamed of, but which he was gradually getting
used to; one single thought kept obstinately and undeviatingly moving up
closer and closer, one single image stood out more and more distinctly,
and under the burning weight of heavy drunkenness the angry irritation
was replaced by a feeling of ferocity in his heart, and a vindictive
smile appeared on his lips.
'Yes, the time has come!' he declared in a matter-of-fact, almost weary
tone. 'I must get to work.'
He drank off the last glass of vodka, took from over his bed the
pistol--the very pistol from which he had shot at Masha--loaded it, put
some cartridges in his pocket--to be ready for anything--and went round
to the stables.
The watchman ran up to him when he began to open the door, but he
shouted to him: 'It's I! Are you blind? Get out!' The watchman moved a
little aside. 'Get out and go to bed!' Tchertop-hanov shouted at him
again: 'there's nothing for you to guard here! A mighty wonder, a
treasure indeed to watch over!' He went into the stable. Malek-Adel...
the spurious Malek-Adel, was lying on his litter. Tchertop-hanov gave
him a kick, saying, 'Get up, you brute!' Then he unhooked a halter from
a nail, took off the horsecloth and flung it on the ground, and roughly
turning the submissive horse round in the box, led it out into the
courtyard, and from the yard into the open country, to the great
amazement of the watchman, who could not make out at all where the
master was going off to by night, leading an unharnessed horse. He was,
of course, afraid to question him, and only followed him with his eyes
till he disappeared at the bend in the road leading to a neighbouring
wood.
XIV
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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