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A.P. Chekhov
- The Grasshopper
I
II
III IV
V
VI
VII VIII
III
After dinner on the second day of Trinity
week, Dymov bought some sweets and some savouries and went down
to the villa to see his wife. He had not seen her for a
fortnight, and missed her terribly. As he sat in the train and
afterwards as he looked for his villa in a big wood, he felt all
the while hungry and weary, and dreamed of how he would have
supper in freedom with his wife, then tumble into bed and to
sleep. And he was delighted as he looked at his parcel, in which
there was caviare, cheese, and white salmon.
The sun was setting by the time he found his villa and
recognized it. The old servant told him that her mistress was
not at home, but that most likely she would soon be in. The
villa, very uninviting in appearance, with low ceilings papered
with writing-paper and with uneven floors full of crevices,
consisted only of three rooms. In one there was a bed, in the
second there were canvases, brushes, greasy papers, and men's
overcoats and hats lying about on the chairs and in the windows,
while in the third Dymov found three unknown men; two were
dark-haired and had beards, the other was clean-shaven and fat,
apparently an actor. There was a samovar boiling on the table.
"What do you want?" asked the actor in a bass voice, looking at
Dymov ungraciously. "Do you want Olga Ivanovna? Wait a minute;
she will be here directly."
Dymov sat down and waited. One of the dark-haired men, looking
sleepily and listlessly at him, poured himself out a glass of
tea, and asked:
"Perhaps you would like some tea?"
Dymov was both hungry and thirsty, but he refused tea for fear
of spoiling his supper. Soon he heard footsteps and a familiar
laugh; a door slammed, and Olga Ivanovna ran into the room,
wearing a wide-brimmed hat and carrying a box in her hand; she
was followed by Ryabovsky, rosy and good-humoured, carrying a
big umbrella and a camp-stool.
"Dymov!" cried Olga Ivanovna, and she flushed crimson with
pleasure. "Dymov!" she repeated, laying her head and both arms
on his bosom. "Is that you? Why haven't you come for so long?
Why? Why?"
"When could I, little mother? I am always busy, and whenever I
am free it always happens somehow that the train does not fit."
"But how glad I am to see you! I have been dreaming about you
the whole night, the whole night, and I was afraid you must be
ill. Ah! if you only knew how sweet you are! You have come in
the nick of time! You will be my salvation! You are the only
person who can save me! There is to be a most original wedding
here tomorrow," she went on, laughing, and tying her husband's
cravat. "A young telegraph clerk at the station, called
Tchikeldyeev, is going to be married. He is a handsome young man
and -- well, not stupid, and you know there is something strong,
bearlike in his face . . . you might paint him as a young
Norman. We summer visitors take a great interest in him, and
have promised to be at his wedding. . . . He is a lonely, timid
man, not well off, and of course it would be a shame not to be
sympathetic to him. Fancy! the wedding will be after the
service; then we shall all walk from the church to the bride's
lodgings . . . you see the wood, the birds singing, patches of
sunlight on the grass, and all of us spots of different colours
against the bright green background -- very original, in the
style of the French impressionists. But, Dymov, what am I to go
to the church in?" said Olga Ivanovna, and she looked as though
she were going to cry. "I have nothing here, literally nothing!
no dress, no flowers, no gloves . . . you must save me. Since
you have come, fate itself bids you save me. Take the keys, my
precious, go home and get my pink dress from the wardrobe. You
remember it; it hangs in front. . . . Then, in the storeroom, on
the floor, on the right side, you will see two cardboard boxes.
When you open the top one you will see tulle, heaps of tulle and
rags of all sorts, and under them flowers. Take out all the
flowers carefully, try not to crush them, darling; I will choose
among them later. . . . And buy me some gloves."
"Very well!" said Dymov; "I will go tomorrow and send them to
you."
"Tomorrow?" asked Olga Ivanovna, and she looked at him
surprised. "You won't have time tomorrow. The first train goes
tomorrow at nine, and the wedding's at eleven. No, darling, it
must be today; it absolutely must be today. If you won't be able
to come tomorrow, send them by a messenger. Come, you must run
along. . . . The passenger train will be in directly; don't miss
it, darling."
"Very well."
"Oh, how sorry I am to let you go!" said Olga Ivanovna, and
tears came into her eyes. "And why did I promise that telegraph
clerk, like a silly?"
Dymov hurriedly drank a glass of tea, took a cracknel, and,
smiling gently, went to the station. And the caviare, the
cheese, and the white salmon were eaten by the two dark
gentlemen and the fat actor.
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