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A.P. Chekhov - Children
PAPA and mamma and Aunt Nadya are not at home. They have gone to
a christening party at the house of that old officer who rides
on a little grey horse. While waiting for them to come home,
Grisha, Anya, Alyosha, Sonya, and the cook's son, Andrey, are
sitting at the table in the dining-room, playing at loto. To
tell the truth, it is bedtime, but how can one go to sleep
without hearing from mamma what the baby was like at the
christening, and what they had for supper? The table, lighted by
a hanging lamp, is dotted with numbers, nutshells, scraps of
paper, and little bits of glass. Two cards lie in front of each
player, and a heap of bits of glass for covering the numbers. In
the middle of the table is a white saucer with five kopecks in
it. Beside the saucer, a half-eaten apple, a pair of scissors,
and a plate on which they have been told to put their nutshells.
The children are playing for money. The stake is a kopeck. The
rule is: if anyone cheats, he is turned out at once. There is no
one in the dining-room but the players, and nurse, Agafya
Ivanovna, is in the kitchen, showing the cook how to cut a
pattern, while their elder brother, Vasya, a schoolboy in the
fifth class, is lying on the sofa in the drawing-room, feeling
bored.
They are playing with zest. The greatest excitement is expressed
on the face of Grisha. He is a small boy of nine, with a head
cropped so that the bare skin shows through, chubby cheeks, and
thick lips like a negro's. He is already in the preparatory
class, and so is regarded as grown up, and the cleverest. He is
playing entirely for the sake of the money. If there had been no
kopecks in the saucer, he would have been asleep long ago. His
brown eyes stray uneasily and jealously over the other players'
cards. The fear that he may not win, envy, and the financial
combinations of which his cropped head is full, will not let him
sit still and concentrate his mind. He fidgets as though he were
sitting on thorns. When he wins, he snatches up the money
greedily, and instantly puts it in his pocket. His sister, Anya,
a girl of eight, with a sharp chin and clever shining eyes, is
also afraid that someone else may win. She flushes and turns
pale, and watches the players keenly. The kopecks do not
interest her. Success in the game is for her a question of
vanity. The other sister, Sonya, a child of six with a curly
head, and a complexion such as is seen only in very healthy
children, expensive dolls, and the faces on bonbon boxes, is
playing loto for the process of the game itself. There is bliss
all over her face. Whoever wins, she laughs and claps her hands.
Alyosha, a chubby, spherical little figure, gasps, breathes hard
through his nose, and stares open-eyed at the cards. He is moved
neither by covetousness nor vanity. So long as he is not driven
out of the room, or sent to bed, he is thankful. He looks
phlegmatic, but at heart he is rather a little beast. He is not
there so much for the sake of the loto, as for the sake of the
misunderstandings which are inevitable in the game. He is
greatly delighted if one hits another, or calls him names. He
ought to have run off somewhere long ago, but he won't leave the
table for a minute, for fear they should steal his counters or
his kopecks. As he can only count the units and numbers which
end in nought, Anya covers his numbers for him. The fifth
player, the cook's son, Andrey, a dark-skinned and sickly
looking boy in a cotton shirt, with a copper cross on his
breast, stands motionless, looking dreamily at the numbers. He
takes no interest in winning, or in the success of the others,
because he is entirely engrossed by the arithmetic of the game,
and its far from complex theory; "How many numbers there are in
the world," he is thinking, "and how is it they don't get mixed
up?"
They all shout out the numbers in turn, except Sonya and Alyosha.
To vary the monotony, they have invented in the course of time a
number of synonyms and comic nicknames. Seven, for instance, is
called the "ovenrake," eleven the "sticks," seventy-seven "Semyon
Semyonitch," ninety "grandfather," and so on. The game is going
merrily.
"Thirty-two," cries Grisha, drawing the little yellow cylinders
out of his father's cap. "Seventeen! Ovenrake! Twenty-eight! Lay
them straight. . . ."
Anya sees that Andrey has let twenty-eight slip. At any other
time she would have pointed it out to him, but now when her
vanity lies in the saucer with the kopecks, she is triumphant.
"Twenty-three!" Grisha goes on, "Semyon Semyonitch! Nine!"
"A beetle, a beetle," cries Sonya, pointing to a beetle running
across the table. "Aie!"
"Don't kill it," says Alyosha, in his deep bass, "perhaps it's
got children . . . ."
Sonya follows the black beetle with her eyes and wonders about
its children: what tiny little beetles they must be!
"Forty-three! One!" Grisha goes on, unhappy at the thought that
Anya has already made two fours. "Six!"
"Game! I have got the game!" cries Sonya, rolling her eyes
coquettishly and giggling.
The players' countenances lengthen.
"Must make sure!" says Grisha, looking with hatred at Sonya.
Exercising his rights as a big boy, and the cleverest, Grisha
takes upon himself to decide. What he wants, that they do.
Sonya's reckoning is slowly and carefully verified, and to the
great regret of her fellow players, it appears that she has not
cheated. Another game is begun.
"I did see something yesterday!" says Anya, as though to
herself. "Filipp Filippitch turned his eyelids inside out
somehow and his eyes looked red and dreadful, like an evil
spirit's."
"I saw it too," says Grisha. "Eight! And a boy at our school can
move his ears. Twenty-seven!"
Andrey looks up at Grisha, meditates, and says:
"I can move my ears too. . . ."
"Well then, move them."
Andrey moves his eyes, his lips, and his fingers, and fancies
that his ears are moving too. Everyone laughs.
"He is a horrid man, that Filipp Filippitch," sighs Sonya. "He
came into our nursery yesterday, and I had nothing on but my
chemise . . . And I felt so improper!"
"Game!" Grisha cries suddenly, snatching the money from the
saucer. "I've got the game! You can look and see if you like."
The cook's son looks up and turns pale.
"Then I can't go on playing any more," he whispers.
"Why not?"
"Because . . . because I have got no more money."
"You can't play without money," says Grisha.
Andrey ransacks his pockets once more to make sure. Finding
nothing in them but crumbs and a bitten pencil, he drops the
corners of his mouth and begins blinking miserably. He is on the
point of crying. . . .
"I'll put it down for you!" says Sonya, unable to endure his
look of agony. "Only mind you must pay me back afterwards."
The money is brought and the game goes on.
"I believe they are ringing somewhere," says Anya, opening her
eyes wide.
They all leave off playing and gaze open-mouthed at the dark
window. The reflection of the lamp glimmers in the darkness.
"It was your fancy."
"At night they only ring in the cemetery," says Andrey.
"And what do they ring there for?"
"To prevent robbers from breaking into the church. They are
afraid of the bells."
"And what do robbers break into the church for?" asks Sonya.
"Everyone knows what for: to kill the watchmen."
A minute passes in silence. They all look at one another,
shudder, and go on playing. This time Andrey wins.
"He has cheated," Alyosha booms out, apropos of nothing.
"What a lie, I haven't cheated."
Andrey turns pale, his mouth works, and he gives Alyosha a slap
on the head! Alyosha glares angrily, jumps up, and with one knee
on the table, slaps Andrey on the cheek! Each gives the other a
second blow, and both howl. Sonya, feeling such horrors too much
for her, begins crying too, and the dining-room resounds with
lamentations on various notes. But do not imagine that that is
the end of the game. Before five minutes are over, the children
are laughing and talking peaceably again. Their faces are
tear-stained, but that does not prevent them from smiling;
Alyosha is positively blissful, there has been a squabble!
Vasya, the fifth form schoolboy, walks into the dining-room. He
looks sleepy and disillusioned.
"This is revolting!" he thinks, seeing Grisha feel in his
pockets in which the kopecks are jingling. "How can they give
children money? And how can they let them play games of chance?
A nice way to bring them up, I must say! It's revolting!"
But the children's play is so tempting that he feels an
inclination to join them and to try his luck.
"Wait a minute and I'll sit down to a game," he says.
"Put down a kopeck!"
"In a minute," he says, fumbling in his pockets. "I haven't a
kopeck, but here is a rouble. I'll stake a rouble."
"No, no, no. . . . You must put down a kopeck."
"You stupids. A rouble is worth more than a kopeck anyway," the
schoolboy explains. "Whoever wins can give me change."
"No, please! Go away!"
The fifth form schoolboy shrugs his shoulders, and goes into the
kitchen to get change from the servants. It appears there is not
a single kopeck in the kitchen.
"In that case, you give me change," he urges Grisha, coming back
from the kitchen. "I'll pay you for the change. Won't you? Come,
give me ten kopecks for a rouble."
Grisha looks suspiciously at Vasya, wondering whether it isn't
some trick, a swindle.
"I won't," he says, holding his pockets.
Vasya begins to get cross, and abuses them, calling them idiots
and blockheads.
"I'll put down a stake for you, Vasya!" says Sonya. "Sit down."
He sits down and lays two cards before him. Anya begins counting
the numbers.
"I've dropped a kopeck!" Grisha announces suddenly, in an
agitated voice. "Wait!"
He takes the lamp, and creeps under the table to look for the
kopeck. They clutch at nutshells and all sorts of nastiness,
knock their heads together, but do not find the kopeck. They
begin looking again, and look till Vasya takes the lamp out of
Grisha's hands and puts it in its place. Grisha goes on looking
in the dark. But at last the kopeck is found. The players sit
down at the table and mean to go on playing.
"Sonya is asleep!" Alyosha announces.
Sonya, with her curly head lying on her arms, is in a sweet,
sound, tranquil sleep, as though she had been asleep for an
hour. She has fallen asleep by accident, while the others were
looking for the kopeck.
"Come along, lie on mamma's bed!" says Anya, leading her away
from the table. "Come along!"
They all troop out with her, and five minutes later mamma's bed
presents a curious spectacle. Sonya is asleep. Alyosha is
snoring beside her. With their heads to the others' feet, sleep
Grisha and Anya. The cook's son, Andrey too, has managed to
snuggle in beside them. Near them lie the kopecks, that have
lost their power till the next game. Good-night!
NOTES
loto: a game similar to bingo
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