The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904 by Chekhov Anton

Author:Chekhov, Anton [Chekhov, Anton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Classics, Romance
ISBN: 9780140447873
Amazon: 0140447873
Goodreads: 114599
Publisher: Penguin Classics
Published: 1899-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

VII

A rainy, muddy, dark autumn set in. There was no work around and I would sit at home for days on end without anything to do. Or I would take on different jobs not connected with painting – shifting earth for foundations and getting twenty copecks a day for it. Dr Blagovo had gone to St Petersburg, my sister did not come any more, Radish was at home ill in bed, expecting to die any day.

And the general mood was autumnal. Perhaps it was because I was a working man now that I saw only the seamy side of town life and therefore I could not avoid making discoveries nearly every day that drove me to despair. My fellow citizens, of whom I already had a low opinion, or who appeared to be perfectly decent, now turned out to be contemptible, cruel people, capable of the meanest trick. They swindled simple working men like us, cheated us out of our money, made us wait hours on end in freezing entrance-halls or kitchens, insulted us and treated us very roughly. During the autumn I papered the reading-room and two other rooms at the club. I was paid seven copecks a roll, but I was told to sign for twelve, and when I refused, a handsome gentleman with gold-rimmed spectacles (most probably one of the senior members) told me, ‘Just one more word from you and I’ll bash your face in, you swine!’

And when a waiter whispered to him that I was the son of Poloznev the architect, he blushed with embarrassment, but immediately recovered and said ‘To hell with him!’

At the local shops we workmen were fobbed off with rotten meat, stale flour and weak tea. In church we were shoved around by the police; in hospital we were robbed by junior staff and nurses, and if we didn’t have the money to bribe them with, they took revenge by giving us our food on filthy plates. The most junior post office clerk thought he had the right to address us as if we were animals, yelling roughly and insolently: ‘Hey, you there, wait! Where do you think you’re going?’ Even house dogs were hostile and attacked us particularly viciously. However, what startled me more than anything in my new job was the complete lack of fair play – precisely what the common people mean when they say that someone has become a ‘lost soul’. Hardly a day passed without some kind of swindle. The merchants who sold us mixing oils, the main contractors, workmen, even customers – they all tried it on. Of course, there was no question of our having any rights, and we always had to beg for the money we had earned as we stood cap in hand at the back door.

I was papering one of the rooms next to the club reading-room. One evening as I was about to leave, the engineer Dolzhikov’s daughter came in carrying a pile of books. I bowed.

‘Oh, hullo!’ she said, immediately recognizing me and holding out her hand.

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