A.P. Chekhov - Joy
IT was twelve o'clock at night.
Mitya Kuldarov, with excited face and ruffled hair, flew into
his parents' flat, and hurriedly ran through all the rooms. His
parents had already gone to bed. His sister was in bed,
finishing the last page of a novel. His schoolboy brothers were
asleep.
"Where have you come from?" cried his parents in amazement.
"What is the matter with you?
"Oh, don't ask! I never expected it; no, I never expected it!
It's . . . it's positively incredible!"
Mitya laughed and sank into an armchair, so overcome by
happiness that he could not stand on his legs.
"It's incredible! You can't imagine! Look!"
His sister jumped out of bed and, throwing a quilt round her,
went in to her brother. The schoolboys woke up.
"What's the matter? You don't look like yourself!"
"It's because I am so delighted, Mamma! Do you know, now all
Russia knows of me! All Russia! Till now only you knew that
there was a registration clerk called Dmitry Kuldarov, and now
all Russia knows it! Mamma! Oh, Lord!"
Mitya jumped up, ran up and down all the rooms, and then sat
down again.
"Why, what has happened? Tell us sensibly!"
"You live like wild beasts, you don't read the newspapers and
take no notice of what's published, and there's so much that is
interesting in the papers. If anything happens it's all known at
once, nothing is hidden! How happy I am! Oh, Lord! You know it's
only celebrated people whose names are published in the papers,
and now they have gone and published mine!"
"What do you mean? Where?"
The papa turned pale. The mamma glanced at the holy image and
crossed herself. The schoolboys jumped out of bed and, just as
they were, in short nightshirts, went up to their brother.
"Yes! My name has been published! Now all Russia knows of me!
Keep the paper, mamma, in memory of it! We will read it
sometimes! Look!"
Mitya pulled out of his pocket a copy of the paper, gave it to
his father, and pointed with his finger to a passage marked with
blue pencil.
"Read it!"
The father put on his spectacles.
"Do read it!"
The mamma glanced at the holy image and crossed herself. The
papa cleared his throat and began to read: "At eleven o'clock on
the evening of the 29th of December, a registration clerk of the
name of Dmitry Kuldarov . . ."
"You see, you see! Go on!"
". . . a registration clerk of the name of Dmitry Kuldarov,
coming from the beershop in Kozihin's buildings in Little
Bronnaia in an intoxicated condition. . ."
"That's me and Semyon Petrovitch. . . . It's all described
exactly! Go on! Listen!"
". . . intoxicated condition, slipped and fell under a horse
belonging to a sledge-driver, a peasant of the village of
Durikino in the Yuhnovsky district, called Ivan Drotov. The
frightened horse, stepping over Kuldarov and drawing the sledge
over him, together with a Moscow merchant of the second guild
called Stepan Lukov, who was in it, dashed along the street and
was caught by some house-porters. Kuldarov, at first in an
unconscious condition, was taken to the police station and there
examined by the doctor. The blow he had received on the back of
his head. . ."
"It was from the shaft, papa. Go on! Read the rest!"
". . . he had received on the back of his head turned out not to
be serious. The incident was duly reported. Medical aid was
given to the injured man. . . ."
"They told me to foment the back of my head with cold water. You
have read it now? Ah! So you see. Now it's all over Russia! Give
it here!"
Mitya seized the paper, folded it up and put it into his pocket.
"I'll run round to the Makarovs and show it to them. . . . I
must show it to the Ivanitskys too, Natasya Ivanovna, and Anisim
Vassilyitch. . . . I'll run! Good-bye!"
Mitya put on his cap with its cockade and, joyful and
triumphant, ran into the street.
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