University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

TRAVELLERS left and entered our car at every
stopping of the train. Three persons, however,
remained, bound, like myself, for the farthest
station: a lady neither young nor pretty, smok-
ing cigarettes, with a thin face, a cap on her
head, and wearing a semi-masculine outer gar-
ment; then her companion, a very loquacious
gentleman of about forty years, with baggage
entirely new and arranged in an orderly man-
ner; then a gentleman who held himself entire-
ly aloof, short in stature, very nervous, of un-
certain age, with bright eyes, not pronounced in
color, but extremely attractive,—eyes that dart-
ed with rapidity from one object to another.

This gentleman, during almost all the journey
thus far, had entered into conversation with no
fellow-traveller, as if he carefully avoided all

acquaintance. When spoken to, he answered
curtly and decisively, and began to look out of
the car window obstinately.

Yet it seemed to me that the solitude weighed
upon him. He seemed to perceive that I under-
stood this, and when our eyes met, as happened
frequently, since we were sitting almost opposite
each other, he turned away his head, and avoid-
ed conversation with me as much as with the
others. At nightfall, during a stop at a large
station, the gentleman with the fine baggage—
a lawyer, as I have since learned—got out with
his companion to drink some tea at the restaur-
ant. During their absence several new travel-
lers entered the car, among whom was a tall old
man, shaven and wrinkled, evidently a mer-
chant, wearing a large heavily-lined cloak and a
big cap. This merchant sat down opposite the
empty seats of the lawyer and his companion,
and straightway entered into conversation with
a young man who seemed like an employee in
some commercial house, and who had likewise
just boarded the train. At first the clerk had
remarked that the seat opposite was occupied,
and the old man had answered that he should

get out at the first station. Thus their con-
versation started.

I was sitting not far from these two travel-
lers, and, as the train was not in motion, I could
catch bits of their conversation when others
were not talking.

They talked first of the prices of goods and
the condition of business; they referred to a
person whom they both knew; then they
plunged into the fair at Nijni Novgorod. The
clerk boasted of knowing people who were lead-
ing a gay life there, but the old man did not
allow him to continue, and, interrupting him,
began to describe the festivities of the previous
year at Kounavino, in which he had taken part.

He was evidently proud of these recollections,
and, probably thinking that this would detract
nothing from the gravity which his face and
manners expressed, he related with pride how,
when drunk, he had fired, at Kounavino, such a
broadside that he could describe it only in the
other's ear.

The clerk began to laugh noisily. The old
man laughed too, showing two long yellow
teeth. Their conversation not interesting me,

I left the car to stretch my legs. At the door I
met the lawyer and his lady.

"You have no more time," the lawyer said to
me. "The second bell is about to ring."

Indeed I had scarcely reached the rear of the
train when the bell sounded. As I entered the
car again, the lawyer was talking with his com-
panion in an animated fashion. The merchant,
sitting opposite them, was taciturn.

"And then she squarely declared to her hus-
band," said the lawyer with a smile, as I passed
by them, "that she neither could nor would live
with him, because" . . .

And he continued, but I did not hear the rest
of the sentence, my attention being distracted by
the passing of the conductor and a new travel-
ler. When silence was restored, I again heard
the lawyer's voice. The conversation had
passed from a special case to general consid-
erations.

"And afterward comes discord, financial dif-
ficulties, disputes between the two parties, and
the couple separate. In the good old days that
seldom happened. Is it not so?" asked the law-

yer of the two merchants, evidently trying to
drag them into the conversation.

Just then the train started, and the old man,
without answering, took off his cap, and crossed
himself three times while muttering a prayer.

When he had finished, he clapped his cap far
down on his head, and said:

"Yes, sir, that happened in former times also,
but not as often. In the present day it is bound
to happen more frequently. People have become
too learned."

The lawyer made some reply to the old man,
but the train, ever increasing its speed, made
such a clatter upon the rails that I could no
longer hear distinctly. As I was interested in
what the old man was saying, I drew nearer.

My neighbor, the nervous gentleman, was evi-
dently interested also, and, without changing his
seat, he lent an ear.

"But what harm is there in education?" asked
the lady, with a smile that was scarcely percepti-
ble. "Would it be better to marry as in the old
days, when the bride and bridegroom did not
even see each other before marriage?" she con-
tinued, answering, as is the habit of our ladies,

not the words that her interlocutor had spoken,
but the words she believed he was going to
speak. "Women did not know whether they
would love or would be loved, and they were
married to the first comer, and suffered all their
lives. Then you think it was better so?" she
continued, evidently addressing the lawyer and
myself, and not at all the old man.

"People have become too learned," repeated
the last, looking at the lady with contempt, and
leaving her question unanswered.

"I should be curious to know how you explain
the correlation between education and conjugal
differences," said the lawyer, with a slight smile.

The merchant wanted to make some reply,
but the lady interrupted him.

"No, those days are past."

The lawyer cut short her words:—

"Let him express his thought."

"Because there is no more fear," replied the
old man.

"But how will you marry people who do not
love each other? Only animals can be coupled
at the will of a proprietor. But people have in-
clinations, attachments," the lady hastened to
say, casting a glance at the lawyer, at me, and

even at the clerk, who, standing up and leaning
his elbow on the back of a seat, was listening to
the conversation with a smile.

"You are wrong to say that, madam," said the
old man. "The animals are beasts, but man has
received the law."

"But, nevertheless, how is one to live with a
man when there is no love?" said the lady, evi-
dently excited by the general sympathy and at-
tention.

"Formerly no such distinctions were made,"
said the old man, gravely. "Only now have
they become a part of our habits. As soon as
the least thing happens, the wife says: 'I release
you. I am going to leave your house.' Even
among the moujiks this fashion has become ac-
climated. 'There,' she says, 'here are your
shirts and drawers. I am going off with Vanka.

His hair is curlier than yours.' Just go talk
with them. And yet the first rule for the wife
should be fear."

The clerk looked at the lawyer, the lady, and
myself, evidently repressing a smile, and all
ready to deride or approve the merchant's
words, according to the attitude of the others.

"What fear?" said the lady.

"This fear,—the wife must fear her husband;
that is what fear."

"Oh, that, my little father, that is ended."

"No, madam, that cannot end. As she, Eve,
the woman, was taken from man's ribs, so she
will remain unto the end of the world," said the
old man, shaking his head so triumphantly and
so severely that the clerk, deciding that the vic-
tory was on his side, burst into a loud laugh.

"Yes, you men think so," replied the lady,
without surrendering, and turning toward us.

"You have given yourself liberty. As for
woman, you wish to keep her in the seraglio.

To you, everything is permissible. Is it not so?"

"Oh, man,—that's another affair."

"Then, according to you, to man everything
is permissible?"

"No one gives him this permission; only, if
the man behaves badly outside, the family is not
increased thereby; but the woman, the wife, is a
fragile vessel," continued the merchant, se-
verely.

His tone of authority evidently subjugated
his hearers. Even the lady felt crushed, but she
did not surrender.

"Yes, but you will admit, I think, that woman
is a human being, and has feelings like her hus-
band. What should she do if she does not love
her husband?"

"If she does not love him!" repeated the old
man, stormily, and knitting his brows; "why,
she will be made to love him."

This unexpected argument pleased the clerk,
and he uttered a murmur of approbation.

"Oh, no, she will not be forced," said the
lady. "Where there is no love, one cannot be
obliged to love in spite of herself."

"And if the wife deceives her husband, what
is to be done?" said the lawyer.

"That should not happen," said the old man.

"He must have his eyes about him."

"And if it does happen, all the same? You
will admit that it does happen?"

"It happens among the upper classes, not
among us," answered the old man. "And if
any husband is found who is such a fool as not
to rule his wife, he will not have robbed her.

But no scandal, nevertheless. Love or not, but
do not disturb the household. Every husband
can govern his wife. He has the necessary

power. It is only the imbecile who does not
succeed in doing so."

Everybody was silent. The clerk moved, ad-
vanced, and, not wishing to lag behind the
others in the conversation, began with his eter-
nal smile:

"Yes, in the house of our employer, a scandal
has arisen, and it is very difficult to view the
matter clearly. The wife loved to amuse her-
self, and began to go astray. He is a capable
and serious man. First, it was with the book-
keeper. The husband tried to bring her back to
reason through kindness. She did not change
her conduct. She plunged into all sorts of
beastliness. She began to steal his money. He
beat her, but she grew worse and worse. To an
unbaptized, to a pagan, to a Jew (saving your
permission), she went in succession for her
caresses. What could the employer do? He
has dropped her entirely, and now he lives as a
bachelor. As for her, she is dragging in the
depths."

"He is an imbecile," said the old man. "If
from the first he had not allowed her to go
in her own fashion, and had kept a firm hand

upon her, she would be living honestly, no
danger. Liberty must be taken away from the
beginning. Do not trust yourself to your horse
upon the highway. Do not trust yourself to
your wife at home."

At that moment the conductor passed, asking
for the tickets for the next station. The old
man gave up his.

"Yes, the feminine sex must be dominated in
season, else all will perish."

"And you yourselves, at Kounavino, did you
not lead a gay life with the pretty girls?" asked
the lawyer with a smile.

"Oh, that's another matter," said the mer-
chant, severely. "Good-by," he added, rising.

He wrapped himself in his cloak, lifted his cap,
and, taking his bag, left the car.