Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories by Ivan Turgenev

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"But I had no sooner got into bed than there was a commotion again. He
was scraping on the floor and scratching himself and shaking his
ears ... the usual thing, in fact. Very good! I lay still and waited to
see what would happen. I heard the old man wake up. 'Sir,' he said,
'hey, sir.' 'What is it?' 'Did you put out the lamp?' But without
waiting for my answer, he burst out all at once. 'What's that? What's
that, a dog? A dog! Ah, you vile heretic!' 'Wait a bit, old man, before
you scold,' I said. 'You had better come here yourself. Things are
happening,' I said, 'that may well make you wonder.' The old man
stirred behind the partition and came in to me, with a candle, a very,
very thin one, made of yellow wax; I was surprised when I looked at
him! He looked bristling all over, with hairy ears and eyes as fierce
as a weasel's; he had on a white woollen night cap, a beard to his
waist, white; too, and a waistcoat with copper buttons on it over his
shirt and fur boots on his feet and he smelt of juniper. In this
attire he approached the ikons, crossed himself three times with his
two fingers crossed, lighted the lamp, crossed himself again and,
turning to me, just grunted: 'Explain!' And thereupon, without delay,
I told him all that had happened. The old man listened to my account
and did not drop one word, simply shook his head. Then he sat down on
my bed and still said nothing. He scratched his chest, the back of his
head and so on and said nothing. 'Well,' I said, 'Fedul Ivanitch, what
do you think? Is it some devil's sorcery or what?' The old man looked
at me. 'What an idea! Devil's sorcery! A tobacco-smoker like you might
well have that at home, but not here. Only think what holiness there
is here! Sorcery, indeed!' 'And if it is not sorcery, what is it,
then?' The old man was silent again; again he scratched himself and
said at last, but in a muffled voice, for his moustache was all over
his mouth: 'You go to the town of Belyov. There is no one who can help
you but one man. And that man lives in Belyov. He is one of our
people. If he is willing to help you, you are lucky; if he is not,
nothing can be done.' 'And how am I to find this man?' I said. 'I can
direct you about that,' he answered; 'but how can it be sorcery? It is
an apparition, or rather an indication; but you cannot comprehend it,
it is beyond your understanding. Lie down to sleep now with the
blessing of our Lord Christ; I will burn incense and in the morning we
will converse. Morning, you know, brings wisdom.'

"Well, we did converse in the morning, only I was almost stifled by
that incense. And this was the counsel the old man gave me: that when
I reached Belyov I should go into the market place and ask in the
second shop on the right for one Prohoritch, and when I had found
Prohoritch, put into his hand a writing and the writing consisted of a
scrap of paper, on which stood the following words: 'In the name of
the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen. To Sergey Prohorovitch
Pervushin. Trust this man. Feduly Ivanitch.' And below, 'Send the
cabbages, for God's sake.'

"I thanked the old man and without further discussion ordered my
carriage and drove to Belyov. For I reflected, that though I suffered
no harm from my nocturnal visitor, yet it was uncanny and in fact not
quite the thing for a nobleman and an officer--what do you think?"

"And did you really go to Belyov?" murmured Finoplentov.

"Straight to Belyov. I went into the market place and asked at the
second shop on the right for Prohoritch. 'Is there such a person?' I
asked. 'Yes,' they told me. 'And where does he live?' 'By the Oka,
beyond the market gardens.' 'In whose house?' 'In his own.' I went to
the Oka, found his house, though it was really not a house but simply
a hovel. I saw a man wearing a blue patched coat and a ragged cap,
well ... he looked like a working-man, he was standing with his back
to me, digging among his cabbages. I went up to him. 'Are you so and
so?' I said. He turned round and, I tell you the truth, I have never
seen such piercing eyes in my life. Yet the whole face was shrunk up
like a little fist with a little wedge-shaped beard and sunken lips.
He was an old man. 'I am so and so,' he said. 'What are you
_needing_?' 'Why, this is what I am _needing_,' I said, and
put the writing in his hand. He looked at me intently and said: 'Come
indoors, I can't read without spectacles.'

"Well, I went with him into his hut--and a hut it certainly was: poor,
bare, crooked; only just holding together. On the wall there was an
ikon of old workmanship as black as a coal; only the whites of the
eyes gleamed in the faces. He took some round spectacles in iron
frames out of a little table, put them on his nose, read the writing
and looked at me again through the spectacles. 'You have need of me?'
'I certainly have,' I answered. 'Well,' said he, 'if you have, tell it
and we will listen.' And, only fancy, he sat down and took a checked
handkerchief out of his pocket, and spread it out on his knee, and the
handkerchief was full of holes, and he looked at me with as much
dignity as though he were a senator or a minister, and he did not
ask me to sit down. And what was still stranger, I felt all at once
awe-stricken, so awe-stricken ... my soul sank into my heels. He
pierced me through with his eyes and that's the fact! I pulled myself
together, however, and told him all my story. He was silent for a
space, shrank into himself, chewed his lips and then questioned me
just like a senator again, majestically, without haste. 'What is your
name?' he asked. 'Your age? What were your parents? Are you single or
married?' Then again he munched his lips, frowned, held up his finger
and spoke: 'Bow down to the holy ikon, to the honourable Saints
Zossima and Savvaty of Solovki.' I bowed down to the earth and did not
get up in a hurry; I felt such awe for the man and such submission
that I believe that whatever he had told me to do I should have done
it on the spot! ... I see you are grinning, gentlemen, but I was in no
laughing mood then, I assure you. 'Get up, sir,' said he at last. 'I
can help you. This is not sent you as a chastisement, but as a
warning; it is for your protection; someone is praying for your
welfare. Go to the market now and buy a young dog and keep it by you
day and night. Your visions will leave you and, moreover, that dog
will be of use to you.'

"I felt as though light dawned upon me, all at once; how those words
delighted me. I bowed down to Prohoritch and would have gone away,
when I bethought me that I could not go away without rewarding him. I
got a three rouble note out of my pocket. But he thrust my hand away
and said, 'Give it to our chapel, or to the poor; the service I have
done you is not to be paid for.' I bowed down to him again almost to
the ground, and set off straight for the market! And only fancy: as
soon as I drew near the shops, lo and behold, a man in a frieze
overcoat comes sauntering towards me carrying under his arm a two
months' old setter puppy with a reddish brown coat, white lips and
white forepaws. 'Stay,' I said to the man in the overcoat, 'what will
you sell it for?' 'For two roubles.' Take three!' The man looked at me
in amazement, thought the gentleman had gone out of his wits, but I
flung the notes in his face, took the pup under my arm and made for my
carriage! The coachman quickly had the horses harnessed and that
evening I reached home. The puppy sat inside my coat all the way and
did not stir; and I kept calling him, 'Little Tresor! Little Tresor!'
I gave him food and drink at once. I had some straw brought in,
settled him and whisked into bed! I blew out the candle: it was dark.
'Well, now begin,' said I. There was silence. 'Begin,' said I, 'you so
and so!'... Not a sound, as though to mock me. Well, I began to feel
so set up that I fell to calling it all sorts of names. But still
there was not a sound! I could only hear the puppy panting! Filka,' I
cried, 'Filka! Come here, you stupid!' He came in. 'Do you hear the
dog?' 'No, sir,' said he, 'I hear nothing,' and he laughed. 'And you
won't hear it ever again,' said I. 'Here's half a rouble for vodka!'
'Let me kiss your hand,' said the foolish fellow, and he stooped down
to me in the darkness.... It was a great relief, I must tell you."

"And was that how it all ended?" asked Anton Stepanitch, this time
without irony.

"The apparitions ended certainly and I was not disturbed in any way,
but wait a bit, the whole business was not over yet. My Tresor grew,
he turned into a fine fellow. He was heavy, with flopping ears and
overhanging lip and a thick tail; a regular sporting dog. And he was
extremely attached to me, too. The shooting in our district is poor,
however, as I had set up a dog, I got a gun, too. I took to sauntering
round the neighbourhood with my Tresor: sometimes one would hit a hare
(and didn't he go after that hare, upon my soul), sometimes a quail,
or a duck. But the great thing was that Tresor was never a step away
from me. Where I went, he went; I even took him to the bath with me, I
did really! One lady actually tried to get me turned out of her
drawing-room on account of Tresor, but I made such an uproar! The
windows I broke! Well, one day ... it was in summer ... and I must
tell you there was a drought at the time such as nobody remembered.
The air was full of smoke or haze. There was a smell of burning, the
sun was like a molten bullet, and as for the dust there was no getting
it out of one's nose and throat. People walked with their mouths wide
open like crows. I got weary of sitting at home in complete
deshabille, with shutters closed; and luckily the heat was beginning
to abate a little.... So I went off, gentlemen, to see a lady, a
neighbour of mine. She lived about three-quarters of a mile away--and
she certainly was a benevolent lady. She was still young and blooming
and of most prepossessing appearance; but she was of rather uncertain
temper. Though that is no harm in the fair sex; it even gives me
pleasure.... Well, I reached her door, and I did feel that I had had a
hot time of it getting there! Well, I thought, Nimfodora Semyonovna
will regale me now with bilberry water and other cooling drinks--and I
had already taken hold of the doorhandle when all at once there was
the tramping of feet and shrieking, and shouting of boys from round
the corner of a hut in the courtyard.... I looked round. Good heavens!
A huge reddish beast was rushing straight towards me; at the first
glance I did not recognise it as a dog: its jaws were open, its eyes
were bloodshot, its coat was bristling.... I had not time to take
breath before the monster bounded up the steps, stood upon its hind
legs and made straight for my chest--it was a position! I was numb
with terror and could not lift my arms. I was completely stupefied....
I could see nothing but the terrible white tusks just before my nose,
the red tongue all covered with white foam. But at the same instant,
another dark body was whisking before me like a ball--it was my
darling Tresor defending me; and he hung like a leech on the brute's
throat! The creature wheezed, grated its teeth and staggered back. I
instantly flung open the door and got into the hall.... I stood hardly
knowing what I was doing with my whole weight on the door, and heard a
desperate battle going on outside. I began shouting and calling for
help; everyone in the house was terribly upset. Nimfodora Semyonovna
ran out with her hair down, the voices in the yard grew louder--and
all at once I heard: 'Hold the gate, hold it, fasten it!' I opened the
door--just a crack, and looked out: the monster was no longer on the
steps, the servants were rushing about the yard in confusion waving
their hands and picking up bits of wood from the ground; they were
quite crazy. 'To the village, it has run off to the village,' shrieked
a peasant woman in a cap of extraordinary size poking her head out of
a dormer window. I went out of the house.

"'Where is my Tresor?' I asked and at once I saw my saviour. He was
coming from the gate limping, covered with wounds and with blood....
'What's the meaning of it?' I asked the servants who were dashing
about the yard as though possessed. 'A mad dog!' they answered, 'the
count's; it's been hanging about here since yesterday.'

"We had a neighbour, a count, who bred very fierce foreign dogs. My
knees shook; I rushed to a looking-glass and looked to see whether I
had been bitten. No, thank God, there was nothing to be seen; only my
countenance naturally looked green; while Nimfodora Semyonovna was
lying on the sofa and cackling like a hen. Well, that one could quite
understand, in the first place nerves, in the second sensibility. She
came to herself at last, though, and asked me whether I were alive. I
answered that I was and that Tresor had saved me. 'Ah,' she said,
'what a noble creature! and so the mad dog has strangled him?' 'No,' I
said, 'it has not strangled him, but has wounded him seriously.' 'Oh,'
she said, 'in that case he must be shot this minute!' 'Oh, no,' I
said, 'I won't agree to that. I shall try to cure him....' At that
moment Tresor began scratching at the door. I was about to go and open
it for him. 'Oh,' she said, 'what are you doing, why, it will bite us
all.' 'Upon my word,' I said, 'the poison does not act so quickly.'
'Oh, how can you?' she said. 'Why, you have taken leave of your
senses!' 'Nimfotchka,' I said, 'calm yourself, be reasonable....' But
she suddenly cried, 'Go away at once with your horrid dog.' 'I will
go away,' said I. 'At once,' she said, 'this second! Get along with
you,' she said, 'you villain, and never dare to let me set eyes on you
again. You may go mad yourself!' 'Very good,' said I, 'only let me
have a carriage for I am afraid to go home on foot now.' 'Give him the
carriage, the coach, the chaise, what he likes, only let him be gone
quickly. Oh, what eyes! Oh, what eyes he has!' and with those words
she whisked out of the room and gave a maid who met her a slap in the
face--and I heard her in hysterics again.

"And you may not believe me, gentlemen, but that very day I broke off
all acquaintance with Nimfodora Semyonovna; on mature consideration of
everything, I am bound to add that for that circumstance, too, I shall
owe a debt of gratitude to my friend Tresor to the hour of my death.

"Well, I had the carriage brought round, put my Tresor in and drove
home. When I got home I looked him over and washed his wounds, and
thought I would take him next day as soon as it was light to the wise
man in the Yefremovsky district. And this wise man was an old peasant,
a wonderful man: he would whisper over some water--and some people
made out that he dropped some snake spittle into it--would give it as
a draught, and the trouble would be gone completely. I thought, by the
way, I would be bled myself at Yefremovo: it's a good thing as a
precaution against fright, only not from the arm, of course, but from
the falcon."

"What place is that, the falcon?" Mr. Finoplentov asked with demure
curiosity.

"Why, don't you know? It is here on the fist near the thumb, the spot
on which one shakes the snuff from one's horn, just here. It's the
best place for letting blood. For only consider, the blood from the
arm comes from the vein, but here it is of no consequence. The doctors
don't know that and don't understand it, how should they, the idle
drones, the wretched Germans? It's the blacksmiths who go in for it.
And aren't they skilful! They get a chisel, give it a tap with a
hammer and it's done! ... Well, while I was thinking it over, it got
quite dark, it was time for bed. I went to bed and Tresor, of course,
was close by me. But whether it was from the fight, from the
stuffiness, from the fleas or from my thoughts, I could not get to
sleep, do what I would! I can't describe the depression that came over
me; I sipped water, opened the window and played the 'Kamarinsky' with
Italian variations on the guitar.... No good! I felt I must get out of
the room--and that was all about it! I made up my mind at last: I took
my pillow, my quilt and my sheet and made my way across the garden to
the hayloft; and settled myself there. And how pleasant I felt in
there, gentlemen: it was a still, still night, only from time to time
a breath of air like a woman's hand caressed one's cheek; it was so
fresh; the hay smelt as sweet as tea; among the apple trees' the
grasshoppers were chirping; then all at once came the cry of the
quail--and one felt that he, too, the rogue, was happy, sitting in the
dew with his little lady.... And the sky was magnificent.... The stars
were glowing, or a cloud would float by, white as cotton wool,
scarcely moving...."

At this point in the story Skvorevitch sneezed; Kinarevitch sneezed,
too--he never failed in anything to follow his colleague's example.
Anton Stepanitch looked approvingly at both of them.

"Well," Porfiry Kapitonitch went on, "well, so I lay there and again
could not go to sleep. I fell to musing, and what I thought of most
was the strangeness of it all: how correctly Prohoritch had explained
it as a warning and I wondered why it was to me such marvels had
happened.... I marvelled--particularly because I could make nothing of
it--and Tresor kept whining, as he twisted round in the hay; his
wounds hurt him. And I will tell you what else prevented me from
sleeping--you won't believe it--the moon. It was just facing me, so
big and round and yellow and flat, and it seemed to me that it was
staring at me, it really did. And so insolently, so persistently.... I
put out my tongue at it at last, I really did. What are you so
inquisitive about? I thought. I turned away from it and it seemed to
be creeping into my ear and shining on the back of my head, so that I
felt caught in it as in rain; I opened my eyes and every blade of
grass, every paltry being in the hay, the most flimsy spider's web--all
were standing out as though they were chiselled! As though asking
to be looked at! There was no help for it: I leaned my head on my hand
and began gazing. And I couldn't help it: would you believe it: my
eyes bulged out like a hare's; they opened so wide--as though they did
not know what sleep was! It seemed as though I would devour it all
with my eyes. The doors of the barn were wide open; I could see for
four miles into the open country, distinctly and yet not, as it always
is on a moonlight night. I gazed and gazed without blinking.... And
all at once it seemed as though something were moving, far, far
away ... like a faint glimmer in the distance. A little time passed:
again the shadow stirred--now a little nearer; then again nearer still.
'What can it be?' I wondered, 'a hare, no,' I thought, 'it is bigger
than a hare and its action is not the same.' I looked, and again the
shadow came in sight, and was moving across the grazing meadow (the
meadow looked whitish in the moonlight) like a big blur; it was clear
that it was a wild animal, a fox or a wolf. My heart seemed to stand
still ... though one might wonder why I was frightened. All sorts of
wild creatures run about the fields at night. But curiosity was even
stronger than fear. I sat up, I opened my eyes wide and I turned cold
all over. I felt frozen, as though I had been thrust into the ice, up
to my ears, and why? The Lord only knows! And I saw the shadow growing
and growing, so it was running straight towards the barn. And I began
to realise that it certainly was a wild beast, big, with a huge
head.... He flew like a whirlwind, like a bullet.... Holy saints! what
was it? He stopped all at once, as though he scented something.... Why
it was ... the same mad dog! It was ... it was! Heavens! And I could
not stir, I could not cry out.... It darted to the doors, with
glittering eyes, howled and dashed through the hay straight at me!

"Out of the hay like a lion leapt my Tresor, here he was. They hung on
to each other's jaws and rolled on the ground. What happened then I
don't remember; all I remember is that I flew headlong between them
into the garden, and home and into my bedroom and almost crept under
the bed--why not make a clean breast of it? And what leaps, what
bounds I took in the garden! The _premiere danseuse_ dancing
before the Emperor Napoleon on his nameday couldn't have kept pace
with me. However, when I had recovered myself a little, I roused the
whole household; I ordered them all to arm themselves, I myself took a
sword and a revolver (I bought that revolver, I must own, soon after
the emancipation, you know, in case anything should happen, but it
turned out the man who sold it was such a rogue--it would be sure to
miss fire twice out of every three shots). Well, I took all this and
so we went, a regular horde of us with stakes and lanterns, to the
barn. We approached and called--there was not a sound; at last we went
into the barn.... And what did we see? My poor Tresor lay dead with
his throat torn open, and of the other, the damned brute, not a trace
to be seen!

"And then, gentlemen, I howled like a calf and I am not ashamed to say
so; I stooped down to the friend who had saved my life twice over and
kissed his head, again and again. And I stayed in that position until
my old housekeeper, Praskovya (she, too, had run in at the uproar),
brought me to my senses. 'How can you, Porfiry Kapitonitch,' she said,
'distress yourself so about a dog? And you will catch cold, too, God
forbid.' (I was very lightly clad.) 'And if this dog has lost his life
in saving you, it may be taken as a great blessing vouchsafed him!'

"Though I did not agree with Praskovya, I went home. And next day a
soldier of the garrison shot the mad dog. And it must have been its
destined end: it was the first time in his life that the soldier had
fired a gun, though he had a medal for service in 1812. So this was
the supernatural incident that happened to me."

The speaker ceased and began filling his pipe. We all looked at each
other in amazement.

"Well, perhaps, you have led a very virtuous life," Mr. Finoplentov
began, "so in recompense ..."

But he broke off at that word, for he saw Porfiry Kapitonitch's cheeks
grow round and flushed while his eyes screwed up--he was on the point
of breaking into a guffaw.

"But if one admits the possibility of the supernatural, the
possibility of its participation in everyday life, so to say," Anton
Stepanitch began again, "then allow me to ask, what becomes of common
sense?"

None of us found anything to say in reply and we remained in
perplexity as before.

1866.

* * * * *

THE WATCH

AN OLD MAN'S STORY

I

I will tell you my adventures with a watch. It is a curious story.

It happened at the very beginning of this century, in 1801. I had just
reached my sixteenth year. I was living at Ryazan in a little wooden
house not far from the bank of the river Oka with my father, my aunt
and my cousin; my mother I do not remember; she died three years after
her marriage; my father had no other children. His name was Porfiry
Petrovitch. He was a quiet man, sickly and unattractive in appearance;
he was employed in some sort of legal and--other--business. In old
days such were called attorneys, sharpers, nettle-seeds; he called
himself a lawyer. Our domestic life was presided over by his sister,
my aunt, an old maiden lady of fifty; my father, too, had passed his
fourth decade. My aunt was very pious, or, to speak bluntly, she was a
canting hypocrite and a chattering magpie, who poked her nose into
everything; and, indeed, she had not a kind heart like my father. We
were not badly off, but had nothing to spare. My father had a brother
called Yegor; but he had been sent to Siberia in the year 1797 for
some "seditious acts and Jacobin tendencies" (those were the words of
the accusation).

Yegor's son David, my cousin, was left on my father's hands and lived
with us. He was only one year older than I; but I respected him and
obeyed him as though he were quite grown up. He was a sensible fellow
with character; in appearance, thick-set and broad-shouldered with a
square face covered with freckles, with red hair, small grey eyes,
thick lips, a short nose, and short fingers--a sturdy lad, in
fact--and strong for his age! My aunt could not endure him; my father
was positively afraid of him ... or perhaps he felt himself to blame
towards him. There was a rumour that, if my father had not given his
brother away, David's father would not have been sent to Siberia. We
were both at the high school and in the same class and both fairly
high up in it; I was, indeed, a little better at my lessons than
David. I had a good memory but boys--as we all know!--do not think
much of such superiority, and David remained my leader.

II

My name--you know--is Alexey. I was born on the seventh of March and
my name-day is the seventeenth. In accordance with the old-fashioned
custom, I was given the name of the saint whose festival fell on the
tenth day after my birth. My godfather was a certain Anastasy
Anastasyevitch Putchkov, or more exactly Nastasey Nastasyeitch, for
that was what everyone called him. He was a terribly shifty,
pettifogging knave and bribe-taker--a thoroughly bad man; he had been
turned out of the provincial treasury and had had to stand his trial
on more than one occasion; he was often of use to my father.... They
used to "do business" together. In appearance he was a round, podgy
figure; and his face was like a fox's with a nose like an owl's. His
eyes were brown, bright, also like a fox's, and he was always moving
them, those eyes, to right and to left, and he twitched his nose, too,
as though he were sniffing the air. He wore shoes without heels, and
wore powder every day, which was looked upon as very exceptional in
the provinces. He used to declare that he could not go without powder
as he had to associate with generals and their ladies. Well, my
name-day had come. Nastasey Nastasyeitch came to the house and said:

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