The Beauties by Anton Chekhov

Author:Anton Chekhov [Anton Chekhov]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782273813
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Published: 2017-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

SERGEANT PRISHIBEYEV

“SERGEANT PRISHIBEYEV! You are hereby charged that on the third day of this month of September you did insult, by words and deeds, Police Constable Zhigin, village elder Alyapov, Police Assistant Yefimov, the witnesses Ivanov and Gavrilov, and a further six villagers, the first three persons named having been subjected to abuse in the course of their official duties. Do you plead guilty to the charge?”

Prishibeyev, a wrinkled, stubble-chinned non-commissioned officer, draws himself up to attention and replies in a hoarse, throaty voice, barking out each word as though shouting a command:

“Your Honour, Mr Justice of the Peace, sir! All the provisions of the law impose a duty to relate every circumstance in reciprocity. It’s not me what’s guilty but everyone else. This whole business is come about through a dead corpse, God rest its soul. On the third of the month I was proceeding in an orderly manner with my wife Anfisa, when I see a crowd of all different sorts of people standing on the riverbank. By what right have these folk gathered here, I ask myself. What for? Does the law tell people to go swarming about in herds? So I shouted ‘Clear off!’ And I began pushing people away, ordering them back home, and I told the police assistant to clear them away by the scruff of their necks…”

“Excuse me, but you’re not a policeman or an elder – what business is it of yours to chase people away?”

“No business of his! None at all!” The voices rang out from different parts of the courtroom. “He gives us no peace, your Honour! Fifteen years we’ve been putting up with him! Ever since he came back from the army – it’s been enough to drive anyone out of the village. Everyone’s sick of him!”

“That’s just how it is, your Honour!” said the village elder, a witness in the trial. “The whole community is complaining. There’s no living with him! Suppose we’re carrying icons in a procession, or there’s a wedding, or, you know, something happens – he’s always there shouting and kicking up a fuss and ordering people about. He pulls the children by their ears, and spies on the womenfolk in case they’re up to anything – just as if he was their father-in-law or something… The other day he was going from house to house telling people not to sing songs or light fires. There’s no law, he says, telling people to sing songs.”

“Wait a bit, you’ll be able to give your evidence later on,” says the magistrate. “But now let Prishibeyev go on. Carry on, Prishibeyev!”

“Yessir!” barks the sergeant. “Your Honour, you was good enough to say that it’s not my business to disperse people… Very well… But supposing there’s some disorder? Is it right to let people cause a disturbance? Where’s the law says people have to be let to do as they like? I can’t have that, sir. If I don’t disperse them, and penalize them, who’s going to do it?

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