Produced by David Widger THE SLANDERER By Anton Chekhov Translated by Herman Bernstein. Copyright, 1901, by the Globe and Commercial Advertiser Sergey Kapitonlch Akhineyev, the teacher of calligraphy, gave his daughter Natalya in marriage to the teacher of history and geography, Ivan Petrovich Loshadinikh. The wedding feast went on swimmingly. They sang, played, and danced in the parlor. Waiters, hired for the occasion from the club, bustled about hither and thither like madmen, in black frock coats and soiled white neckties. A loud noise of voices smote the air. From the outside people looked in at the windows;--their social standing gave them no right to enter. Just at midnight the host, Akhineyev, made his way to the kitchen to see whether everything was ready for the supper. The kitchen was filled with smoke from the floor to the ceiling; the smoke reeked with the odors of geese, ducks, and many other things. Victuals and beverages were scattered about on two tables in artistic disorder. Marfa, the cook, a stout, red-faced woman, was busying herself near the loaded tables. “Show me the sturgeon, dear,” said Akhineyev, rubbing his hands and licking his lips. “What a fine odor! I could just devour the whole kitchen! Well, let me see the sturgeon!” Marfa walked up to one of the benches and carefully lifted a greasy newspaper. Beneath that paper, in a huge dish, lay a big fat sturgeon, amid capers, olives, and carrots. Akhineyev glanced at the sturgeon and heaved a sigh of relief. His face became radiant, his eyes rolled. He bent down, and, smacking his lips, gave vent to a sound like a creaking wheel. He stood a while, then snapped his fingers for pleasure, and smacked his lips once more. “Bah! The sound of a hearty kiss. Whom have you been kissing there, Marfusha?” some one’s voice was heard from the adjoining room, and soon the closely cropped head of Vankin, the assistant school instructor, appeared in the doorway. “Whom have you been kissing here? A-a-ah! Very good! Sergey Kapitonich! A fine old man indeed! With the female sex tête-à-tête!” “I wasn’t kissing at all,” said Akhineyev, confused; “who told you, you fool? I only--smacked my lips on account of--in consideration of my pleasure--at the sight of the fish.” “Tell that to some one else, not to me!” exclaimed Vankin, whose face expanded into a broad smile as he disappeared behind the door. Akhineyev blushed. “The devil knows what may be the outcome of this!” he thought. “He’ll go about tale-bearing now, the rascal. He’ll disgrace me before the whole town, the brute!” Akhineyev entered the parlor timidly and cast furtive glances to see what Vankin was doing. Vankin stood near the piano and, deftly bending down, whispered something to the inspector’s sister-in-law, who was laughing.