Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories by Ivan Turgenev

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With all that, the fortunes of Akim and his wife prospered
exceedingly; they lived in harmony and had the reputation of an
exemplary pair. But just as a squirrel will wash its face at the very
instant when the sportsman is aiming at it, man has no presentiment of
his troubles, till all of a sudden the ground gives way under him like
ice.

One autumn evening a merchant in the drapery line put up at Akim's
inn. He was journeying by various cross-country roads from Moscow to
Harkov with two loaded tilt carts; he was one of those travelling
traders whose arrival is sometimes awaited with such impatience by
country gentlemen and still more by their wives and daughters. This
travelling merchant, an elderly man, had with him two companions, or,
speaking more correctly, two workmen, one thin, pale and hunchbacked,
the other a fine, handsome young fellow of twenty. They asked for
supper, then sat down to tea; the merchant invited the innkeeper and
his wife to take a cup with him, they did not refuse. A conversation
quickly sprang up between the two old men (Akim was fifty-six); the
merchant inquired about the gentry of the neighbourhood and no one
could give him more useful information about them than Akim; the
hunchbacked workman spent his time looking after the carts and finally
went off to bed; it fell to Avdotya to talk to the other one.... She
sat by him and said little, rather listening to what he told her, but
it was evident that his talk pleased her; her face grew more animated,
the colour came into her cheeks and she laughed readily and often. The
young workman sat almost motionless with his curly head bent over the
table; he spoke quietly, without haste and without raising his voice;
but his eyes, not large but saucily bright and blue, were rivetted on
Avdotya; at first she turned away from them, then she, too, began
looking him in the face. The young fellow's face was fresh and smooth
as a Crimean apple; he often smiled and tapped with his white fingers
on his chin covered with soft dark down. He spoke like a merchant, but
very freely and with a sort of careless self-confidence and went on
looking at her with the same intent, impudent stare.... All at once he
moved a little closer to her and without the slightest change of
countenance said to her: "Avdotya Arefyevna, there's no one like you
in the world; I am ready to die for you."

Avdotya laughed aloud.

"What is it?" asked Akim.

"Why, he keeps saying such funny things," she said, without any
particular embarrassment.

The old merchant grinned.

"Ha, ha, yes, my Naum is such a funny fellow, don't listen to him."

"Oh! Really! As though I should," she answered, and shook her head.

"Ha, ha, of course not," observed the old man. "But, however," he went
on in a singsong voice, "we will take our leave; we are thoroughly
satisfied, it is time for bed, ..." and he got up.

"We are well satisfied, too," Akim brought out and he got up, "for
your entertainment, that is, but we wish you a good night.
Avdotyushka, come along."

Avdotya got up as it were unwillingly. Naum, too, got up after her ...
the party broke up. The innkeeper and his wife went off to the little
lobby partitioned off, which served them as a bedroom. Akim was
snoring immediately. It was a long time before Avdotya could get to
sleep.... At first she lay still, turning her face to the wall, then
she began tossing from side to side on the hot feather bed, throwing
off and pulling up the quilt alternately ... then she sank into a light
doze. Suddenly she heard from the yard a loud masculine voice: it was
singing a song of which it was impossible to distinguish the words,
prolonging each note, though not with a melancholy effect. Avdotya
opened her eyes, propped herself on her elbows and listened.... The
song went on.... It rang out musically in the autumn air.

Akim raised his head.

"Who's that singing?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered.

"He sings well," he added, after a brief pause. "Very well. What a
strong voice. I used to sing in my day," he went on. "And I sang well,
too, but my voice has gone. That's a fine voice. It must be that young
fellow singing, Naum is his name, isn't it?" And he turned over on the
other side, gave a sigh and fell asleep again.

It was a long time before the voice was still ... Avdotya listened and
listened; all at once it seemed to break off, rang out boldly once
more and slowly died away.... Avdotya crossed herself and laid her
head on the pillow.... Half an hour passed.... She sat up and softly
got out of bed.

"Where are you going, wife?" Akim asked in his sleep.

She stopped.

"To see to the little lamp," she said, "I can't get to sleep."

"You should say a prayer," Akim mumbled, falling asleep.

Avdotya went up to the lamp before the ikon, began trimming it and
accidentally put it out; she went back and lay down. Everything was
still.

Early next morning the merchant set off again on his journey with his
companions. Avdotya was asleep. Akim went half a mile with them: he
had to call at the mill. When he got home he found his wife dressed
and not alone. Naum, the young man who had been there the night
before, was with her. They were standing by the table in the window
talking. When Avdotya saw Akim, she went out of the room without a
word, and Naum said that he had come for his master's gloves which the
latter, he said, had left behind on the bench; and he, too, went away.

We will now tell the reader what he has probably guessed already:
Avdotya had fallen passionately in love with Naum. It is hard to say
how it could have happened so quickly, especially as she had hitherto
been irreproachable in her behaviour in spite of many opportunities
and temptations to deceive her husband. Later on, when her intrigue
with Naum became known, many people in the neighbourhood declared that
he had on the very first evening put a magic potion that was a love
spell in her tea (the efficacy of such spells is still firmly believed
in among us), and that this could be clearly seen from the appearance
of Avdotya who, so they said, soon after began to pine away and look
depressed.

However that may have been, Naum began to be frequently seen in Akim's
yard. At first he came again with the same merchant and three months
later arrived alone, with wares of his own; then the report spread
that he had settled in one of the neighbouring district towns, and
from that time forward not a week passed without his appearing on the
high road with his strong, painted cart drawn by two sleek horses
which he drove himself. There was no particular friendship between
Akim and him, nor was there any hostility noticed between them; Akim
did not take much notice of him and only thought of him as a sharp
young fellow who was rapidly making his way in the world. He did not
suspect Avdotya's real feelings and went on believing in her as
before.

Two years passed like this.

One summer day it happened that Lizaveta Prohorovna--who had somehow
suddenly grown yellow and wrinkled during those two years in spite of
all sorts of unguents, rouge and powder--about two o'clock in the
afternoon went out with her lap dog and her folding parasol for a
stroll before dinner in her neat little German garden. With a faint
rustle of her starched petticoats, she walked with tiny steps along
the sandy path between two rows of erect, stiffly tied-up dahlias,
when she was suddenly overtaken by our old acquaintance Kirillovna,
who announced respectfully that a merchant desired to speak to her on
important business. Kirillovna was still high in her mistress's favour
(in reality it was she who managed Madame Kuntse's estate) and she had
some time before obtained permission to wear a white cap, which gave
still more acerbity to the sharp features of her swarthy face.

"A merchant?" said her mistress; "what does he want?"

"I don't know what he wants," answered Kirillovna in an insinuating
voice, "only I think he wants to buy something from you."

Lizaveta Prohorovna went back into the drawing-room, sat down in her
usual seat--an armchair with a canopy over it, upon which a climbing
plant twined gracefully--and gave orders that the merchant should be
summoned.

Naum appeared, bowed, and stood still by the door.

"I hear that you want to buy something of me," said Lizaveta
Prohorovna, and thought to herself, "What a handsome man this merchant
is."

"Just so, madam."

"What is it?"

"Would you be willing to sell your inn?"

"What inn?"

"Why, the one on the high road not far from here."

"But that inn is not mine, it is Akim's."

"Not yours? Why, it stands on your land."

"Yes, the land is mine ... bought in my name; but the inn is his."

"To be sure. But wouldn't you be willing to sell it to me?"

"How could I sell it to you?"

"Well, I would give you a good price for it."

Lizaveta Prohorovna was silent for a space.

"It is really very queer what you are saying," she said. "And what
would you give?" she added. "I don't ask that for myself but for
Akim."

"For all the buildings and the appurtenances, together with the land
that goes with it, of course, I would give two thousand roubles."

"Two thousand roubles! That is not enough," replied Lizaveta
Prohorovna.

"It's a good price."

"But have you spoken to Akim?"

"What should I speak to him for? The inn is yours, so here I am
talking to you about it."

"But I have told you.... It really is astonishing that you don't
understand me."

"Not understand, madam? But I do understand."

Lizaveta Prohorovna looked at Naum and Naum looked at Lizaveta
Prohorovna.

"Well, then," he began, "what do you propose?"

"I propose ..." Lizaveta Prohorovna moved in her chair. "In the first
place I tell you that two thousand is too little and in the second
..."

"I'll add another hundred, then."

Lizaveta Prohorovna got up.

"I see that you are talking quite off the point. I have told you
already that I cannot sell that inn--am not going to sell it. I
cannot ... that is, I will not."

Naum smiled and said nothing for a space.

"Well, as you please, madam," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I beg
to take leave." He bowed and took hold of the door handle.

Lizaveta Prohorovna turned round to him.

"You need not go away yet, however," she said, with hardly perceptible
agitation. She rang the bell and Kirillovna came in from the study.
"Kirillovna, tell them to give this gentleman some tea. I will see you
again," she added, with a slight inclination of her head.

Naum bowed again and went out with Kirillovna. Lizaveta Prohorovna
walked up and down the room once or twice and rang the bell again.
This time a page appeared. She told him to fetch Kirillovna. A few
moments later Kirillovna came in with a faint creak of her new
goatskin shoes.

"Have you heard," Lizaveta Prohorovna began with a forced laugh, "what
this merchant has been proposing to me? He is a queer fellow, really!"

"No, I haven't heard. What is it, madam?" and Kirillovna faintly
screwed up her black Kalmuck eyes.

"He wants to buy Akim's inn."

"Well, why not?"

"But how could he? What about Akim? I gave it to Akim."

"Upon my word, madam, what are you saying? Isn't the inn yours? Don't
we all belong to you? And isn't all our property yours, our
mistress's?"

"Good gracious, Kirillovna, what are you saying?" Lizaveta Prohorovna
pulled out a batiste handkerchief and nervously blew her nose. "Akim
bought the inn with his own money."

"His own money? But where did he get the money? Wasn't it through your
kindness? He has had the use of the land all this time as it is. It
was all through your gracious permission. And do you suppose, madam,
that he would have no money left? Why, he is richer than you are, upon
my word, he is!"

"That's all true, of course, but still I can't do it.... How could I
sell the inn?"

"And why not sell it," Kirillovna went on, "since a purchaser has
luckily turned up? May I ask, madam, how much he offers you?"

"More than two thousand roubles," said Lizaveta Prohorovna softly.

"He will give more, madam, if he offers two thousand straight off. And
you will arrange things with Akim afterwards; take a little off his
yearly duty or something. He will be thankful, too."

"Of course, I must remit part of his duty. But no, Kirillovna, how can
I sell it?" and Lizaveta Prohorovna walked up and down the room. "No,
that's out of the question, that won't do ... no, please don't speak
of it again ... or I shall be angry."

But in spite of her agitated mistress's warning, Kirillovna did
continue speaking of it and half an hour later she went back to Naum,
whom she had left in the butler's pantry at the samovar.

"What have you to tell me, good madam?" said Naum, jauntily turning
his tea-cup wrong side upwards in the saucer.

"What I have to tell you is that you are to go in to the mistress; she
wants you."

"Certainly," said Naum, and he got up and followed Kirillovna into the
drawing-room.

The door closed behind them.... When the door opened again and Naum
walked out backwards, bowing, the matter was settled: Akim's inn
belonged to him. He had bought it for 2800 paper roubles. It was
arranged that the legal formalities should take place as quickly as
possible and that till then the matter should not be made public.
Lizaveta Prohorovna received a deposit of a hundred roubles and two
hundred went to Kirillovna for her assistance. "It has not cost me
much," thought Naum as he got into his coat, "it was a lucky chance."

While the transaction we have described was going forward in the
mistress's house, Akim was sitting at home alone on the bench by the
window, stroking his beard with a discontented expression. We have
said already that he did not suspect his wife's feeling for Naum,
although kind friends had more than once hinted to him that it was
time he opened his eyes; it is true that he had noticed himself that
of late his wife had become rather difficult, but we all know that the
female sex is capricious and changeable. Even when it really did
strike him that things were not going well in his house, he merely
dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand; he did not like the
idea of a squabble; his good nature had not lessened with years and
indolence was asserting itself, too. But on that day he was very much
out of humour; the day before he had overheard quite by chance in the
street a conversation between their servant and a neighbouring peasant
woman.

The peasant woman asked the servant why she had not come to see her on
the holiday the day before. "I was expecting you," she said.

"I did set off," replied the servant, "but as ill-luck would have it,
I ran into the mistress ... botheration take her."

"Ran into her?" repeated the peasant woman in a sing-song voice and
she leaned her cheek on her hand. "And where did you run into her, my
good girl?"

"Beyond the priest's hemp-patch. She must have gone to the hemp-patch
to meet her Naum, but I could not see them in the dusk, owing to the
moon, maybe, I don't know; I simply dashed into them."

"Dashed into them?" the other woman repeated. "Well, and was she
standing with him, my good girl?"

"Yes, she was. He was standing there and so was she. She saw me and
said, 'Where are you running to? Go home.' So I went home."

"You went home?" The peasant woman was silent. "Well, good-bye,
Fetinyushka," she brought out at last, and trudged off.

This conversation had an unpleasant effect on Akim. His love for
Avdotya had cooled, but still he did not like what the servant had
said. And she had told the truth: Avdotya really had gone out that
evening to meet Naum, who had been waiting for her in the patch of
dense shade thrown on the road by the high motionless hemp. The dew
bathed every stalk of it from top to bottom; the strong, almost
overpowering fragrance hung all about it. A huge crimson moon had just
risen in the dingy, blackish mist. Naum heard the hurried footsteps of
Avdotya a long way off and went to meet her. She came up to him, pale
with running; the moon lighted up her face.

"Well, have you brought it?" he asked.

"Brought it--yes, I have," she answered in an uncertain voice. "But,
Naum Ivanitch----"

"Give it me, since you have brought it," he interrupted her, and held
out his hand.

She took a parcel from under her shawl. Naum took it at once and
thrust it in his bosom.

"Naum Ivanitch," Avdotya said slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on him,
"oh, Naum Ivanitch, you will bring my soul to ruin."

It was at that instant that the servant came up to them.

And so Akim was sitting on the bench discontentedly stroking his
beard. Avdotya kept coming into the room and going out again. He
simply followed her with his eyes. At last she came into the room and
after taking a jerkin from the lobby was just crossing the threshold,
when he could not restrain himself and said, as though speaking to
himself:

"I wonder," he began, "why it is women are always in a fuss? It's no
good expecting them to sit still. That's not in their line. But
running out morning or evening, that's what they like. Yes."

Avdotya listened to her husband's words without changing her position;
only at the word "evening," she moved her head slightly and seemed to
ponder.

"Once you begin talking, Semyonitch," she commented at last with
vexation, "there is no stopping you."

And with a wave of her hand she went away and slammed the door.
Avdotya certainly did not appreciate Akim's eloquence and often in the
evenings when he indulged in conversation with travellers or fell to
telling stories she stealthily yawned or went out of the room. Akim
looked at the closed door. "Once you begin talking," he repeated in an
undertone.... "The fact is, I have not talked enough to you. And who
is it? A peasant like any one of us, and what's more...." And he got
up, thought a little and tapped the back of his head with his fist.

Several days passed in a rather strange way. Akim kept looking at his
wife as though he were preparing to say something to her, and she, for
her part, looked at him suspiciously; meanwhile, they both preserved a
strained silence. This silence, however, was broken from time to time
by some peevish remark from Akim in regard to some oversight in the
housekeeping or in regard to women in general. For the most part
Avdotya did not answer one word. But in spite of Akim's good-natured
weakness, it certainly would have come to a decisive explanation
between him and Avdotya, if it had not been for an event which
rendered any explanation useless.

One morning Akim and wife were just beginning lunch (owing to the
summer work in the fields there were no travellers at the inn) when
suddenly a cart rattled briskly along the road and pulled up sharply
at the front door. Akim peeped out of window, frowned and looked down:
Naum got deliberately out of the cart. Avdotya had not seen him, but
when she heard his voice in the entry the spoon trembled in her hand.
He told the labourers to put up the horse in the yard. At last the
door opened and he walked into the room.

"Good-day," he said, and took off his cap.

"Good-day," Akim repeated through his teeth. "Where has God brought
you from?"

"I was in the neighbourhood," replied Naum, and he sat down on the
bench. "I have come from your lady."

"From the lady," said Akim, not getting up from his seat. "On
business, eh?"

"Yes, on business. My respects to you, Avdotya Arefyevona."

"Good morning, Naum Ivanitch," she answered. All were silent.

"What have you got, broth, is it?" began Naum.

"Yes, broth," replied Akim and all at once he turned pale, "but not
for you."

Naum glanced at Akim with surprise.

"Not for me?"

"Not for you, and that's all about it." Akim's eyes glittered and he
brought his fist on the table. "There is nothing in my house for you,
do you hear?"

"What's this, Semyonitch, what is the matter with you?"

"There's nothing the matter with me, but I am sick of you, Naum
Ivanitch, that's what it is." The old man got up, trembling all over.
"You poke yourself in here too often, I tell you."

Naum, too, got up.

"You've gone clean off your head, old man," he said with a jeer.
"Avdotya Arefyevna, what's wrong with him?"

"I tell you," shouted Akim in a cracked voice, "go away, do you
hear? ... You have nothing to do with Avdotya Arefyevna ... I tell
you, do you hear, get out!"

"What's that you are saying to me?" Naum asked significantly.

"Go out of the house, that's what I am telling to you. Here's God and
here's the door ... do you understand? Or there will be trouble."

Naum took a step forward.

"Good gracious, don't fight, my dears," faltered Avdotya, who till
then had sat motionless at the table.

Naum glanced at her.

"Don't be uneasy, Avdotya Arefyevna, why should we fight? Fie,
brother, what a hullabaloo you are making!" he went on, addressing
Akim. "Yes, really. You are a hasty one! Has anyone ever heard of
turning anyone out of his house, especially the owner of it?" Naum
added with slow deliberateness.

"Out of his house?" muttered Akim. "What owner?"

"Me, if you like."

And Naum screwed up his eyes and showed his white teeth in a grin.

"You? Why, it's my house, isn't it?"

"What a slow-witted fellow you are! I tell you it's mine."

Akim gazed at him open-eyed.

"What crazy stuff is it you are talking? One would think you had gone
silly," he said at last. "How the devil can it be yours?"

"What's the good of talking to you?" cried Naum impatiently. "Do you
see this bit of paper?" he went on, pulling out of his pocket a sheet
of stamped paper, folded in four, "do you see? This is the deed of
sale, do you understand, the deed of sale of your land and your house;
I have bought them from the lady, from Lizaveta Prohorovna; the deed
was drawn up at the town yesterday; so I am master here, not you. Pack
your belongings today," he added, putting the document back in his
pocket, "and don't let me see a sign of you here to-morrow, do you
hear?"

Akim stood as though struck by a thunderbolt.

"Robber," he moaned at last, "robber.... Heigh, Fedka, Mitka, wife,
wife, seize him, seize him--hold him."

He lost his head completely.

"Mind now, old man," said Naum menacingly, "mind what you are about,
don't play the fool...."

"Beat him, wife, beat him!" Akim kept repeating in a tearful voice,
trying helplessly and in vain to get up. "Murderer, robber.... She is
not enough for you, you want to take my house, too, and everything....
But no, stop a bit ... that can't be.... I'll go myself, I'll speak
myself ... how ... why should she sell it? Wait a bit, wait a bit."

And he dashed out bareheaded.

"Where are you off to, Akim Ivanitch?" said the servant Fetinya,
running into him in the doorway.

"To our mistress! Let me pass! To our mistress!" wailed Akim, and
seeing Naum's cart which had not yet been taken into the yard, he
jumped into it, snatched the reins and lashing the horse with all his
might set off at full speed to his mistress's house.

"My lady, Lizaveta Prohorovna," he kept repeating to himself all the
way, "how have I lost your favour? I should have thought I had done my
best!"

And meantime he kept lashing and lashing the horse. Those who met him
moved out of his way and gazed after him.

In a quarter of an hour Akim had reached Lizaveta Prohorovna's house,
had galloped up to the front door, jumped out of the cart and dashed
straight into the entry.

"What do you want?" muttered the frightened footman who was sleeping
sweetly on the hall bench.

"The mistress, I want to see the mistress," said Akim loudly.

The footman was amazed.

"Has anything happened?" he began.

"Nothing has happened, but I want to see the mistress."

"What, what," said the footman, more and more astonished, and he
slowly drew himself up.

Akim pulled himself up.... He felt as though cold water had been
poured on him.

"Announce to the mistress, please, Pyotr Yevgrafitch," he said with a
low bow, "that Akim asks leave to see her."

"Very good ... I'll go ... I'll tell her ... but you must be drunk,
wait a bit," grumbled the footman, and he went off.

Akim looked down and seemed confused.... His determination had
evaporated as soon as he went into the hall.

Lizaveta Prohorovna was confused, too, when she was informed that Akim
had come. She immediately summoned Kirillovna to her boudoir.

"I can't see him," she began hurriedly, as soon as the latter
appeared. "I absolutely cannot. What am I to say to him? I told you he
would be sure to come and complain," she added in annoyance and
agitation. "I told you."

"But why should you see him?" Kirillovna answered calmly, "there is no
need to. Why should you be worried! No, indeed!"

"What is to be done then?"

"If you will permit me, I will speak to him."

Lizaveta Prohorovna raised her head.

"Please do, Kirillovna. Talk to him. You tell him ... that I found it
necessary ... but that I will compensate him ... say what you think
best. Please, Kirillovna."

"Don't you worry yourself, madam," answered Kirillovna, and she went
out, her shoes creaking.

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