The Bishop and Other StoriesChekhov, Anton Pavlovich
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The Bishop and Other Stories
Chekhov, Anton Pavlovich
Chekhov, Anton Pavlovich, 1860-1904 -- Translations into English; Russia -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
On a hot day when there is nowhere to escape from the sultry,
stifling heat, the splash of water and the loud breathing of a man
bathing sounds like good music to the ear. Dymov and Kiruha, looking
at Styopka, undressed quickly and one after the other, laughing
loudly in eager anticipation of their enjoyment, dropped into the
water, and the quiet, modest little river resounded with snorting
and splashing and shouting. Kiruha coughed, laughed and shouted as
though they were trying to drown him, while Dymov chased him and
tried to catch him by the leg.
"Ha-ha-ha!" he shouted. "Catch him! Hold him!"
Kiruha laughed and enjoyed himself, but his expression was the same
as it had been on dry land, stupid, with a look of astonishment on
it as though someone had, unnoticed, stolen up behind him and hit
him on the head with the butt-end of an axe. Yegorushka undressed,
too, but did not let himself down by the bank, but took a run and
a flying leap from the height of about ten feet. Describing an arc
in the air, he fell into the water, sank deep, but did not reach
the bottom; some force, cold and pleasant to the touch, seemed to
hold him up and bring him back to the surface. He popped out and,
snorting and blowing bubbles, opened his eyes; but the sun was
reflected in the water quite close to his face. At first blinding
spots of light, then rainbow colours and dark patches, flitted
before his eyes. He made haste to dive again, opened his eyes in
the water and saw something cloudy-green like a sky on a moonlight
night. Again the same force would not let him touch the bottom and
stay in the coolness, but lifted him to the surface. He popped out
and heaved a sigh so deep that he had a feeling of space and
freshness, not only in his chest, but in his stomach. Then, to get
from the water everything he possibly could get, he allowed himself
every luxury; he lay on his back and basked, splashed, frolicked,
swam on his face, on his side, on his back and standing up--just
as he pleased till he was exhausted. The other bank was thickly
overgrown with reeds; it was golden in the sun, and the flowers of
the reeds hung drooping to the water in lovely tassels. In one place
the reeds were shaking and nodding, with their flowers rustling--
Styopka and Kiruha were hunting crayfish.
"A crayfish, look, lads! A crayfish!" Kiruha cried triumphantly and
actually showed a crayfish.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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