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A.P. Chekhov
- The Duel
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VIII
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XXI
VIII
It was late, eleven o'clock, when they began
to get into the carriages to go home. They took their seats, and
the only ones missing were Nadyezhda Fyodorovna and Atchmianov,
who were running after one another, laughing, the other side of
the stream.
"Make haste, my friends," shouted Samoylenko.
"You oughtn't to give ladies wine," said Von Koren in a low
voice.
Laevsky, exhausted by the picnic, by the hatred of Von Koren,
and by his own thoughts, went to meet Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, and
when, gay and happy, feeling light as a feather, breathless and
laughing, she took him by both hands and laid her head on his
breast, he stepped back and said dryly:
"You are behaving like a . . . cocotte."
It sounded horribly coarse, so that he felt sorry for her at
once. On his angry, exhausted face she read hatred, pity and
vexation with himself, and her heart sank at once. She realised
instantly that she had gone too far, had been too free and easy
in her behaviour, and overcome with misery, feeling herself
heavy, stout, coarse, and drunk, she got into the first empty
carriage together with Atchmianov. Laevsky got in with Kirilin,
the zoologist with Samoylenko, the deacon with the ladies, and
the party set off.
"You see what the Japanese monkeys are like," Von Koren began,
rolling himself up in his cloak and shutting his eyes. "You
heard she doesn't care to take an interest in beetles and
ladybirds because the people are suffering. That's how all the
Japanese monkeys look upon people like us. They're a slavish,
cunning race, terrified by the whip and the fist for ten
generations; they tremble and burn incense only before violence;
but let the monkey into a free state where there's no one to
take it by the collar, and it relaxes at once and shows itself
in its true colours. Look how bold they are in picture
galleries, in museums, in theatres, or when they talk of
science: they puff themselves out and get excited, they are
abusive and critical . . . they are bound to criticise -- it's
the sign of the slave. You listen: men of the liberal
professions are more often sworn at than pickpockets -- that's
because three-quarters of society are made up of slaves, of just
such monkeys. It never happens that a slave holds out his hand
to you and sincerely says 'Thank you' to you for your work."
"I don't know what you want," said Samoylenko, yawning; "the
poor thing, in the simplicity of her heart, wanted to talk to
you of scientific subjects, and you draw a conclusion from that.
You're cross with him for something or other, and with her, too,
to keep him company. She's a splendid woman."
"Ah, nonsense! An ordinary kept woman, depraved and vulgar.
Listen, Alexandr Daviditch; when you meet a simple peasant
woman, who isn't living with her husband, who does nothing but
giggle, you tell her to go and work. Why are you timid in this
case and afraid to tell the truth? Simply because Nadyezhda
Fyodorovna is kept, not by a sailor, but by an official."
"What am I to do with her?" said Samoylenko, getting angry.
"Beat her or what?
"Not flatter vice. We curse vice only behind its back, and
that's like making a long nose at it round a corner. I am a
zoologist or a sociologist, which is the same thing; you are a
doctor; society believes in us; we ought to point out the
terrible harm which threatens it and the next generation from
the existence of ladies like Nadyezhda Ivanovna."
"Fyodorovna," Samoylenko corrected. "But what ought society to
do?"
"Society? That's its affair. To my thinking the surest and most
direct method is -- compulsion. Manu militari she ought to be
returned to her husband; and if her husband won't take her in,
then she ought to be sent to penal servitude or some house of
correction."
"Ouf!" sighed Samoylenko. He paused and asked quietly: "You said
the other day that people like Laevsky ought to be destroyed. .
. . Tell me, if you . . . if the State or society commissioned
you to destroy him, could you . . . bring yourself to it?"
"My hand would not tremble."
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