Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories by Ivan Turgenev

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A quarter of an hour had not elapsed when their creaking was heard
again and Kirillovna walked into the boudoir with the same unruffled
expression on her face and the same sly shrewdness in her eyes.

"Well?" asked her mistress, "how is Akim?"

"He is all right, madam. He says that it must all be as you graciously
please; that if only you have good health and prosperity he can get
along very well."

"And he did not complain?"

"No, madam. Why should he complain?"

"What did he come for, then?" Lizaveta Prohorovna asked in some
surprise.

"He came to ask whether you would excuse his yearly payment for next
year, that is, until he has been compensated."

"Of course, of course," Lizaveta Prohorovna caught her up eagerly. "Of
course, with pleasure. And tell him, in fact, that I will make it up
to him. Thank you, Kirillovna. I see he is a good-hearted man. Stay,"
she added, "give him this from me," and she took a three-rouble note
out of her work-table drawer, "Here, take this, give it to him."

"Certainly, madam," answered Kirillovna, and going calmly back to her
room she locked the note in an iron-cased box which stood at the head
of her bed; she kept in it all her spare cash, and there was a
considerable amount of it.

Kirillovna had reassured her mistress by her report but the
conversation between herself and Akim had not been quite what she
represented. She had sent for him to the maid's room. At first he had
not come, declaring that he did not want to see Kirillovna but
Lizaveta Prohorovna herself; he had, however, at last obeyed and gone
by the back door to see Kirillovna. He found her alone. He stopped at
once on getting into the room and leaned against the wall by the door;
he would have spoken but he could not.

Kirillovna looked at him intently.

"You want to see the mistress, Akim Semyonitch?" she began.

He simply nodded.

"It's impossible, Akim Semyonitch. And what's the use? What's done
can't be undone, and you will only worry the mistress. She can't see
you now, Akim Semyonitch."

"She cannot," he repeated and paused. "Well, then," he brought out at
last, "so then my house is lost?"

"Listen, Akim Semyonitch. I know you have always been a sensible man.
Such is the mistress's will and there is no changing it. You can't
alter that. Whatever you and I might say about it would make no
difference, would it?"

Akim put his arm behind his back.

"You'd better think," Kirillovna went on, "shouldn't you ask the
mistress to let you off your yearly payment or something?"

"So my house is lost?" repeated Akim in the same voice.

"Akim Semyonitch, I tell you, it's no use. You know that better than
I do."

"Yes. Anyway, you might tell me what the house went for?"

"I don't know, Akim Semyonitch, I can't tell you.... But why are you
standing?" she added. "Sit down."

"I'd rather stand, I am a peasant. I thank you humbly."

"You a peasant, Akim Semyonitch? You are as good as a merchant, let
alone a house-serf! What do you mean? Don't distress yourself for
nothing. Won't you have some tea?"

"No, thank you, I don't want it. So you have got hold of my house
between you," he added, moving away from the wall. "Thank you for
that. I wish you good-bye, my lady."

And he turned and went out. Kirillovna straightened her apron and went
to her mistress.

"So I am a merchant, it seems," Akim said to himself, standing before
the gate in hesitation. "A nice merchant!" He waved his hand and
laughed bitterly. "Well, I suppose I had better go home."

And entirely forgetting Naum's horse with which he had come, he
trudged along the road to the inn. Before he had gone the first mile
he suddenly heard the rattle of a cart beside him.

"Akim, Akim Semyonitch," someone called to him.

He raised his eyes and saw a friend of his, the parish clerk, Yefrem,
nicknamed the Mole, a little, bent man with a sharp nose and
dim-sighted eyes. He was sitting on a bundle of straw in a wretched
little cart, and leaning forward against the box.

"Are you going home?" he asked Akim.

Akim stopped

"Yes."

"Shall I give you a lift?"

"Please do."

Yefrem moved to one side and Akim climbed into the cart. Yefrem, who
seemed to be somewhat exhilarated, began lashing at his wretched
little horse with the ends of his cord reins; it set off at a weary
trot continually tossing its unbridled head.

They drove for nearly a mile without saying one word to each other.
Akim sat with his head bent while Yefrem muttered to himself,
alternately urging on and holding back his horse.

"Where have you been without your cap, Semyonitch?" he asked Akim
suddenly and, without waiting for an answer, went on, "You've left it
at some tavern, that's what you've done. You are a drinking man; I
know you and I like you for it, that you are a drinker; you are not a
murderer, not a rowdy, not one to make trouble; you are a good
manager, but you are a drinker and such a drinker, you ought to have
been pulled up for it long ago, yes, indeed; for it's, a nasty
habit.... Hurrah!" he shouted suddenly at the top of his voice,
"Hurrah! Hurrah!"

"Stop! Stop!" a woman's voice sounded close by, "Stop!"

Akim looked round. A woman so pale and dishevelled that at first he
did not recognise her, was running across the field towards the cart.

"Stop! Stop!" she moaned again, gasping for breath and waving her
arms.

Akim started: it was his wife.

He snatched up the reins.

"What's the good of stopping?" muttered Yefrem. "Stopping for a woman?
Gee-up!"

But Akim pulled the horse up sharply. At that instant Avdotya ran up
to the road and flung herself down with her face straight in the dust.

"Akim Semyonitch," she wailed, "he has turned me out, too!"

Akim looked at her and did not stir; he only gripped the reins
tighter.

"Hurrah!" Yefrem shouted again.

"So he has turned you out?" said Akim.

"He has turned me out, Akim Semyonitch, dear," Avdotya answered,
sobbing. "He has turned me out. The house is mine, he said, so you can
go."

"Capital! That's a fine thing ... capital," observed Yefrem.

"So I suppose you thought to stay on?" Akim brought out bitterly,
still sitting in the cart.

"How could I! But, Akim Semyonitch," went on Avdotya, who had raised
her head but let it sink to the earth again, "you don't know, I ...
kill me, Akim Semyonitch, kill me here on the spot."

"Why should I kill you, Arefyevna?" said Akim dejectedly, "you've been
your own ruin. What's the use?"

"But do you know what, Akim Semyonitch, the money ... your money ...
your money's gone.... Wretched sinner as I am, I took it from under
the floor, I gave it all to him, to that villain Naum.... Why did you
tell me where you hid your money, wretched sinner as I am? ... It's
with your money he has bought the house, the villain."

Sobs choked her voice.

Akim clutched his head with both hands.

"What!" he cried at last, "all the money, too ... the money and the
house, and you did it.... Ah! You took it from under the floor, you
took it.... I'll kill you, you snake in the grass!" And he leapt out
of the cart.

"Semyonitch, Semyonitch, don't beat her, don't fight," faltered
Yefrem, on whom this unexpected adventure began to have a sobering
effect.

"No, Akim Semyonitch, kill me, wretched sinner as I am; beat me, don't
heed him," cried Avdotya, writhing convulsively at Akim's feet.

He stood a moment, looked at her, moved a few steps away and sat down
on the grass beside the road.

A brief silence followed. Avdotya turned her head in his direction.

"Semyonitch! hey, Semyonitch," began Yefrem, sitting up in the cart,
"give over ... you know ... you won't make things any better. Tfoo,
what a business," he went on as though to himself. "What a damnable
woman.... Go to him," he added, bending down over the side of the cart
to Avdotya, "you see, he's half crazy."

Avdotya got up, went nearer to Akim and again fell at his feet.

"Akim Semyonitch!" she began, in a faint voice.

Akim got up and went back to the cart. She caught at the skirt of his
coat.

"Get away!" he shouted savagely, and pushed her off.

"Where are you going?" Yefrem asked, seeing that he was getting in
beside him again.

"You were going to take me to my home," said Akim, "but take me to
yours ... you see, I have no home now. They have bought mine."

"Very well, come to me. And what about her?"

Akim made no answer.

"And me? Me?" Avdotya repeated with tears, "are you leaving me all
alone? Where am I to go?"

"You can go to him," answered Akim, without turning round, "the man
you have given my money to.... Drive on, Yefrem!"

Yefrem lashed the horse, the cart rolled off, Avdotya set up a
wail....

Yefrem lived three-quarters of a mile from Akim's inn in a little
house close to the priest's, near the solitary church with five
cupolas which had been recently built by the heirs of a rich merchant
in accordance with the latter's will. Yefrem said nothing to Akim all
the way; he merely shook his head from time to time and uttered such
ejaculations as "Dear, dear!" and "Upon my soul!" Akim sat without
moving, turned a little away from Yefrem. At last they arrived. Yefrem
was the first to get out of the cart. A little girl of six in a smock
tied low round the waist ran out to meet him and shouted,

"Daddy! daddy!"

"And where is your mother?" asked Yefrem.

"She is asleep in the shed."

"Well, let her sleep. Akim Semyonitch, won't you get out, sir, and
come indoors?"

(It must be noted that Yefrem addressed him familiarly only when he
was drunk. More important persons than Yefrem spoke to Akim with
formal politeness.)

Akim went into the sacristan's hut.

"Here, sit on the bench," said Yefrem. "Run away, you little rascals,"
he cried to three other children who suddenly came out of different
corners of the room together with two lean cats covered with wood
ashes. "Get along! Sh-sh! Come this way, Akim Semyonitch, this way!"
he went on, making his guest sit down, "and won't you take something?"

"I tell you what, Yefrem," Akim articulated at last, "could I have
some vodka?"

Yefrem pricked up his ears.

"Vodka? You can. I've none in the house, but I will run this minute to
Father Fyodor's. He always has it.... I'll be back in no time."

And he snatched up his cap with earflaps.

"Bring plenty, I'll pay for it," Akim shouted after him. "I've still
money enough for that."

"I'll be back in no time," Yefrem repeated again as he went out of the
door. He certainly did return very quickly with two bottles under his
arm, of which one was already uncorked, put them on the table, brought
two little green glasses, part of a loaf and some salt.

"Now this is what I like," he kept repeating, as he sat down opposite
Akim. "Why grieve?" He poured out a glass for Akim and another for
himself and began talking freely. Avdotya's conduct had perplexed him.
"It's a strange business, really," he said, "how did it happen? He
must have bewitched her, I suppose? It shows how strictly one must
look after a wife! You want to keep a firm hand over her. All the same
it wouldn't be amiss for you to go home; I expect you have got a lot
of belongings there still." Yefrem added much more to the same effect;
he did not like to be silent when he was drinking.

This is what was happening an hour later in Yefrem's house. Akim, who
had not answered a word to the questions and observations of his
talkative host but had merely gone on drinking glass after glass, was
sleeping on the stove, crimson in the face, a heavy, oppressive sleep;
the children were looking at him in wonder, and Yefrem ... Yefrem,
alas, was asleep, too, but in a cold little lumber room in which he
had been locked by his wife, a woman of very masculine and powerful
physique. He had gone to her in the shed and begun threatening her or
telling her some tale, but had expressed himself so unintelligibly and
incoherently that she instantly saw what was the matter, took him by
the collar and deposited him in a suitable place. He slept in the
lumber room, however, very soundly and even serenely. Such is the
effect of habit.

* * * * *

Kirillovna had not quite accurately repeated to Lizaveta Prohorovna
her conversation with Akim ... the same may be said of Avdotya. Naum
had not turned her out, though she had told Akim that he had; he had
no right to turn her out. He was bound to give the former owners time
to pack up. An explanation of quite a different character took place
between him and Avdotya.

When Akim had rushed out crying that he would go to the mistress,
Avdotya had turned to Naum, stared at him open-eyed and clasped her
hands.

"Good heavens!" she cried, "Naum Ivanitch, what does this mean? You've
bought our inn?"

"Well, what of it?" he replied. "I have."

Avdotya was silent for a while; then she suddenly started.

"So that is what you wanted the money for?"

"You are quite right there. Hullo, I believe your husband has gone off
with my horse," he added, hearing the rumble of the wheels. "He is a
smart fellow!"

"But it's robbery!" wailed Avdotya. "Why, it's our money, my husband's
money and the inn is ours...."

"No, Avdotya Arefyevna," Naum interrupted her, "the inn was not yours.
What's the use of saying that? The inn was on your mistress's land, so
it was hers. The money was yours, certainly; but you were, so to say,
so kind as to present it to me; and I am grateful to you and will even
give it back to you on occasion--if occasion arises; but you wouldn't
expect me to remain a beggar, would you?"

Naum said all this very calmly and even with a slight smile.

"Holy saints!" cried Avdotya, "it's beyond everything! Beyond
everything! How can I look my husband in the face after this? You
villain," she added, looking with hatred at Naum's fresh young face.
"I've ruined my soul for you, I've become a thief for your sake, why,
you've turned us into the street, you villain! There's nothing left
for me but to hang myself, villain, deceiver! You've ruined me, you
monster!" And she broke into violent sobbing.

"Don't excite yourself, Avdotya Arefyevna," said Naum. "I'll tell you
one thing: charity begins at home, and that's what the pike is in the
sea for, to keep the carp from going to sleep."

"Where are we to go now. What's to become of us?" Avdotya faltered,
weeping.

"That I can't say."

"But I'll cut your throat, you villain, I'll cut your throat."

"No, you won't do that, Avdotya Arefyevna; what's the use of talking
like that? But I see I had better leave you for a time, for you are
very much upset.... I'll say good-bye, but I shall be back to-morrow
for certain. But you must allow me to send my workmen here today," he
added, while Avdotya went on repeating through her tears that she
would cut his throat and her own.

"Oh, and here they are," he observed, looking out of the window. "Or,
God forbid, some mischief might happen.... It will be safer so. Will
you be so kind as to put your belongings together to-day and they'll
keep guard here and help you, if you like. I'll say goodbye."

He bowed, went out and beckoned the workmen to him.

Avdotya sank on the bench, then bent over the table, wringing her
hands, then suddenly leapt up and ran after her husband.... We have
described their meeting.

When Akim drove away from her with Yefrem, leaving her alone in the
field, for a long time she remained where she was, weeping. When she
had wept away all her tears she went in the direction of her
mistress's house. It was very bitter for her to go into the house,
still more bitter to go into the maids' room. All the maids flew to
meet her with sympathy and consideration. Seeing them, Avdotya could
not restrain her tears; they simply spurted from her red and swollen
eyes. She sank, helpless, on the first chair that offered itself.
Someone ran to fetch Kirillovna. Kirillovna came, was very friendly to
her, but kept her from seeing the mistress just as she had Akim.
Avdotya herself did not insist on seeing Lizaveta Prohorovna; she had
come to her old home simply because she had nowhere else to go.

Kirillovna ordered the samovar to be brought in. For a long while
Avdotya refused to take tea, but yielded at last to the entreaties and
persuasion of all the maids and after the first cup drank another
four. When Kirillovna saw that her guest was a little calmer and only
shuddered and gave a faint sob from time to time, she asked her where
they meant to move to and what they thought of doing with their
things. Avdotya began crying again at this question, and protesting
that she wanted nothing but to die; but Kirillovna as a woman with a
head on her shoulders, checked her at once and advised her without
wasting time to set to work that very day to move their things to the
hut in the village which had been Akim's and in which his uncle (the
old man who had tried to dissuade him from his marriage) was now
living; she told her that with their mistress's permission men and
horses should be sent to help them in packing and moving. "And as for
you, my love," added Kirillovna, twisting her cat-like lips into a wry
smile, "there will always be a place for you with us and we shall be
delighted if you stay with us till you are settled in a house of your
own again. The great thing is not to lose heart. The Lord has given,
the Lord has taken away and will give again. Lizaveta Prohorovna, of
course, had to sell your inn for reasons of her own but she will not
forget you and will make up to you for it; she told me to tell Akim
Semyonitch so. Where is he now?"

Avdotya answered that when he met her he had been very unkind to her
and had driven off to Yefrem's.

"Oh, to that fellow's!" Kirillovna replied significantly. "Of course,
I understand that it's hard for him now. I daresay you won't find him
to-day; what's to be done? I must make arrangements. Malashka," she
added, turning to one of the maids, "ask Nikanop Ilyitch to come here:
we will talk it over with him."

Nikanop Ilyitch, a feeble-looking man who was bailiff or something of
the sort, made his appearance at once, listened with servility to all
that Kirillovna said to him, said, "it shall be done," went out and
gave orders. Avdotya was given three waggons and three peasants; a
fourth who said that he was "more competent than they were,"
volunteered to join them and she went with them to the inn where she
found her own labourers and the servant Fetinya in a state of great
confusion and alarm.

Naum's newly hired labourers, three very stalwart young men, had come
in the morning and had not left the place since. They were keeping
very zealous guard, as Naum had said they would--so zealous that the
iron tyres of a new cart were suddenly found to be missing.

It was a bitter, bitter task for poor Avdotya to pack. In spite of the
help of the "competent" man, who turned out, however, only capable of
walking about with a stick in his hand, looking at the others and
spitting on the ground, she was not able to get it finished that day
and stayed the night at the inn, begging Fetinya to spend the night in
her room. But she only fell into a feverish doze towards morning and
the tears trickled down her cheeks even in her sleep.

Meanwhile Yefrem woke up earlier than usual in his lumber room and
began knocking and asking to be let out. At first his wife was
unwilling to release him and told him through the door that he had not
yet slept long enough; but he aroused her curiosity by promising to
tell her of the extraordinary thing that had happened to Akim; she
unbolted the door. Yefrem told her what he knew and ended by asking
"Is he awake yet, or not?"

"The Lord only knows," answered his wife. "Go and look yourself; he
hasn't got down from the stove yet. How drunk you both were yesterday!
You should look at your face--you don't look like yourself. You are as
black as a sweep and your hair is full of hay!"

"That doesn't matter," answered Yefrem, and, passing his hand over his
head, he went into the room. Akim was no longer asleep; he was sitting
on the stove with his legs hanging down; he, too, looked strange and
unkempt. His face showed the effects the more as he was not used to
drinking much.

"Well, how have you slept, Akim Semyonitch?" Yefrem began.

Akim looked at him with lustreless eyes.

"Well, brother Yefrem," he said huskily, "could we have some again?"

Yefrem took a swift glance at Akim.... He felt a slight tremor at that
moment; it was a tremor such as is felt by a sportsman when he hears
the yap of his dog at the edge of the wood from which he had fancied
all the game had been driven.

"What, more?" he asked at last.

"Yes, more."

"My wife will see," thought Yefrem, "she won't let me out, most
likely.

"All right," he pronounced aloud, "have a little patience."

He went out and, thanks to skilfully taken precautions, succeeded in
bringing in unseen a big bottle under his coat.

Akim took the bottle. But Yefrem did not sit down with him as he had
the day before--he was afraid of his wife--and informing Akim that he
would go and have a look at what was going on at the inn and would see
that his belongings were being packed and not stolen--at once set off,
riding his little horse which he had neglected to feed--but judging
from the bulging front of his coat he had not forgotten his own needs.

Soon after he had gone, Akim was on the stove again, sleeping like the
dead.... He did not wake up, or at least gave no sign of waking when
Yefrem returned four hours later and began shaking him and trying to
rouse him and muttering over him some very muddled phrases such as
that "everything was moved and gone, and the ikons have been taken out
and driven away and that everything was over, and that everyone was
looking for him but that he, Yefrem, had given orders and not allowed
them, ..." and so on. But his mutterings did not last long. His wife
carried him off to the lumber room again and, very indignant both with
her husband and with the visitor, owing to whom her husband had been
drinking, lay down herself in the room on the shelf under the
ceiling.... But when she woke up early, as her habit was, and glanced
at the stove, Akim was not there. The second cock had not crowed and
the night was still so dark that the sky hardly showed grey overhead
and at the horizon melted into the darkness when Akim walked out of
the gate of the sacristan's house. His face was pale but he looked
keenly around him and his step was not that of a drunken man.... He
walked in the direction of his former dwelling, the inn, which had now
completely passed into the possession of its new owner--Naum.

Naum, too, was awake when Akim stole out of Yefrem's house. He was not
asleep; he was lying on a bench with his sheepskin coat under him. It
was not that his conscience was troubling him--no! he had with amazing
coolness been present all day at the packing and moving of all Akim's
possessions and had more than once addressed Avdotya, who was so
downcast that she did not even reproach him ... his conscience was at
rest but he was disturbed by various conjectures and calculations. He
did not know whether he would be lucky in his new career; he had never
before kept an inn, nor had a home of his own at all; he could not
sleep. "The thing has begun well," he thought, "how will it go
on?" ... Towards evening, after seeing off the last cart with Akim's
belongings (Avdotya walked behind it, weeping), he looked all over the
yard, the cellars, sheds, and barns, clambered up into the loft, more
than once instructed his labourers to keep a very, very sharp look-out
and when he was left alone after supper could not go to sleep. It so
happened that day that no visitor stayed at the inn for the night;
this was a great relief to him. "I must certainly buy a dog from the
miller to-morrow, as fierce a one as I can get; they've taken theirs
away," he said to himself, as he tossed from side to side, and all at
once he raised his head quickly ... he fancied that someone had passed
by the window ... he listened ... there was nothing. Only a cricket
from time to time gave a cautious churr, and a mouse was scratching
somewhere; he could hear his own breathing. Everything was still in
the empty room dimly lighted by the little glass lamp which he had
managed to hang up and light before the ikon in the corner.... He let
his head sink; again he thought he heard the gate creak ... then a
faint snapping sound from the fence.... He could not refrain from
jumping up; he opened the door of the room and in a low voice called,
"Fyodor! Fyodor!" No one answered.... He went out into the passage and
almost fell over Fyodor, who was lying on the floor. The man stirred
in his sleep with a faint grunt; Naum roused him.

"What's there? What do you want?" Fyodor began.

"What are you bawling for, hold your tongue!" Naum articulated in a
whisper. "How you sleep, you damned fellows! Have you heard nothing?"

"Nothing," answered the man.... "What is it?"

"Where are the others sleeping?"

"Where they were told to sleep.... Why, is there anything ..."

"Hold your tongue--come with me."

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