Interrupted Stories

After dinner, the master would lie down to rest. Tit had to stand at the doors, and when Lev Stepanovich clapped his hands, he was to bring him a carafe of sour cabbage soup. Sometimes during this time, Tit would run to the maid's room and order one maid or another, by name, to pour chamomile and bring it to the master, saying that "his stomach is not feeling well," and the maid would run to Agafya Ivanovna with a certain fear. Agafya Ivanovna, grumbling through her teeth, would pour the foul-smelling herb into a small teapot. Marfa Petrovna never visited her husband during his gastric attacks; she limited her participation to inquiring exactly who had brought the chamomile, in order to recall such a service and such a preference when the occasion arose.

Lev Stepanovich, having washed down his sleep with sour cabbage soup or chamomile, would set off to wander through the fields and the work, and around six o'clock, he would appear in the tea room, where the blind major was already sitting by the wall in a large armchair,

knitting a stocking—the only intellectual occupation that remained for him. Sometimes the old man would fall asleep; Lev Stepanovich, of course, could not endure this and would immediately shout to the maid, "Tanka, don't gape!" and Tanka would wake the old man, who, upon waking, would insist that he had not even thought of sleeping, and that he even slept poorly at night due to his lower back.

After tea, Stolygin would take out a rather worn deck of cards and play "fools" a popular Russian card game with his wife and the Moldavian woman. If he were in an especially good mood, then in the middle of the game, he would tell, for the thousandth time, fragments of his aristocratic memories; how the late Count loved him, how he trusted him, how he consulted with him; but, at the same time, "friendship is friendship, and service is service."

"He used to give such a 'bath' colloquialism for a severe scolding, scattering all the papers across the floor and shouting. Well, sometimes you felt you were right, but you didn't answer; you had to give way to anger. He, you see, could not stand it when people answered back; that was frightening, but now I recall it with gratitude."

Most of all, he liked to dwell in great detail on how the Count once sent him with a paper to Prince Grigory Grigoryevich...

"In the morning, I got up at about five o'clock. Tit was a boy then; he wasn't as lazy as he is now, it's disgusting to look—well, but even then, he was incredibly lazy and stupid. I walk into the anteroom, and I have trouble shaking him awake to go run for the barber. The barber came, combed me... then they wore it like this, three curls one on top of the other; I put on my uniform and set off to the Prince. I walk into the anteroom, and I tell the waiter that I am sent by the Count to His Highness on such and such business. The waiter looked at me, saw I arrived with two lackeys, and said, 'You've deigned to arrive quite early; the Prince does not get up before ten, and at ten, I will report to the valet.' 'And may I wait somewhere?' I asked him. 'Why not, we have enough rooms. Pray, go into the hall.' I went in, the people were sweeping the floors and dusting, I sat in a corner and sat. About two hours later, a secretary, or perhaps a valet, came out and walked straight to me: 'Are you from the Count?' 'I am, my dear sir, I am.' 'Follow me to His Highness's dressing room.' I enter; the Prince is sitting in a powdering cape, and one barber in an embroidered French caftan is combing his hair, while another holds pomade, powder, and combs on a silver tray. The Prince, having taken the paper, said to me in such a loud, gentle voice: 'Thank the Count; I will report on this matter today. The Count told me about you, saying you are a business-like and diligent official; strive in the future to deserve such a commendation.' 'Your Serene Highness,' I said, 'I would prefer to lay down my life for the service.'"