The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov: Plays, Novellas, Short Stories, Diary & Letters. Anton Chekhov

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СКАЧАТЬ for the first time she felt ashamed, and had no more assurance or boldness left. In her thoughts she began to call herself Nastya Kanavkina, instead of Vanda as she used.

      "This way, please ! " said the maid-servant, leading her to the private room. " The doctor will be here immediately . . . Please, take a seat."

      Vanda dropped into an easy chair.

      "I'll say : ' Lend me . . .' " she thought. " That's the right thing, because we are acquainted. But the maid must go out of the room . . . It's awkward in front of the maid . . . What is she standing there for ? "

      In five minutes the door opened and Finkel entered—a tall, swarthy, convert Jew, with fat cheeks and goggle-eyes. His cheeks, eyes, belly, fleshy hips—were all so full, repulsive, and coarse ! At the Renaissance and the German club he used always to be a little drunk, to spend a lot of money on women, patiently put up with all their tricks—for instance, when Vanda poured the beer on his head, he only smiled and shook his finger at her but now he looked dull and sleepy ; he had the pompous, chilly expression of a superior, and he was chewing something.

      "What is the matter ? " he asked, without looking at Vanda. Vanda glanced at the maid's serious face, at the blown-out figure of Finkel, who obviously did not recognise her, and she blushed.

      "What's the matter ? " the dentist repeated, irritated.

      "To ... oth ache . . ." whispered Vanda.

      "Ah ... which tooth . . . where ? "

      Vanda remembered she had a tooth with a hole.

      "At the bottom ... to the right," she said.

      "H'm . . . open your mouth."

      Finkel frowned, held his breath, and began to work the aching tooth loose.

      "Do you feel any pain ? " he asked, picking at her tooth with some instrument.

      "Yes, I do . . ." Vanda lied. " Shall I remind him ? " she thought, " he'll be sure to remember . . . But ... the maid . . . what is she standing there for ? "

      Finkel suddenly snorted like a steam-engine, straight into her mouth, and said :

      "I don't advise you to have a stopping . . . Anyhow the tooth is quite useless."

      Again he picked at the tooth for a little, and soiled Vanda's lips and gums with his tobacco-stained fingers. Again he held his breath and dived into her mouth with something cold . . .

      Vanda suddenly felt a terrible pain, shrieked and seized Finkel's hand . . .

      "Never mind . . ." he murmured. " Don't be frightened . . . This tooth isn't any use."

      And his tobacco-stained fingers, covered with blood, held up the extracted tooth before her eyes. The maid came forward and put a bowl to her lips.

      "Rinse your mouth with cold water at home," said Finkel. " That will make the blood stop."

      He stood before her in the attitude of a man impatient to be left alone at last.

      "Good-bye ..." she said, turning to the door.

      "H'm ! And who's to pay me for the work ? " Finkel asked laughingly.

      "Ah ... yes ! " Vanda recollected, blushed and gave the dentist the rouble she had got for the turquoise ring.

      When she came into the street she felt still more ashamed than before, but she was not ashamed of her poverty any more. Nor did she notice any more that she hadn't an elaborate hat or a modish jacket. She walked along the street spitting blood and each red spittle told her about her life, a bad, hard life ; about the insults she had suffered and had still to suffer—to-morrow, a week, a year hence—her whole life, till death . . .

      "Oh, how terrible it is ! " she whispered. "My God, how terrible ! "

      But the next day she was at the Renaissance and she danced there. She wore a new, immense red hat, a new jacket a la mode and a pair of brown shoes. She was treated to supper by a young merchant from Kazan.

      A GENTLEMAN FRIEND

       [trans. by Constance Garnett]

       Table of Contents

      THE charming Vanda, or, as she was described in her passport, the “Honourable Citizen Nastasya Kanavkin,” found herself, on leaving the hospital, in a position she had never been in before: without a home to go to or a farthing in her pocket. What was she to do?

      The first thing she did was to visit a pawn-broker’s and pawn her turquoise ring, her one piece of jewellery. They gave her a rouble for the ring… but what can you get for a rouble? You can’t buy for that sum a fashionable short jacket, nor a big hat, nor a pair of bronze shoes, and without those things she had a feeling of being, as it were, undressed. She felt as though the very horses and dogs were staring and laughing at the plainness of her dress. And clothes were all she thought about: the question what she should eat and where she should sleep did not trouble her in the least.

      “If only I could meet a gentleman friend,” she thought to herself, “I could get some money…. There isn’t one who would refuse me, I know…”

      But no gentleman she knew came her way. It would be easy enough to meet them in the evening at the “Renaissance,” but they wouldn’t let her in at the “Renaissance “in that shabby dress and with no hat. What was she to do?

      After long hesitation, when she was sick of walking and sitting and thinking, Vanda made up her mind to fall back on her last resource: to go straight to the lodgings of some gentleman friend and ask for money.

      She pondered which to go to. “Misha is out of the question; he’s a married man…. The old chap with the red hair will be at his office at this time…”

      Vanda remembered a dentist, called Finkel, a converted Jew, who six months ago had given her a bracelet, and on whose head she had once emptied a glass of beer at the supper at the German Club. She was awfully pleased at the thought of Finkel.

      “He’ll be sure to give it me, if only I find him at home,” she thought, as she walked in his direction. “If he doesn’t, I’ll smash all the lamps in the house.”

      Before she reached the dentist’s door she thought out her plan of action: she would run laughing up the stairs, dash into the dentist’s room and demand twenty-five roubles. But as she touched the bell, this plan seemed to vanish from her mind of itself. Vanda began suddenly feeling frightened and nervous, which was not at all her way. She was bold and saucy enough at drinking parties, but now, dressed in everyday clothes, feeling herself in the position of an ordinary person asking a favour, who might be refused admittance, she felt suddenly timid and humiliated. She was ashamed and frightened.

      “Perhaps he has forgotten me by now,” she thought, hardly daring to pull the bell. “And how can I go up to him in such a dress, looking like a beggar or some working girl?”

      And she rang the bell irresolutely.

      She heard steps coming: it was the porter.

      “Is СКАЧАТЬ