are a man ; it will be more fitting for you .... whether he has had some trouble there. You know there are such wicked creatures in the world .... find out everything.'
' Very good, ma'am, very good: I will find out, I will
learn the whole secret. Send Yevsay to me, while I am at dinner .... I will do it all!'
' Good health to you, Yevsay! ' he said, taking his seat at the table and sticking a napkin over his cravat ' How do you do ? '
' Your servant, sir. What was my life like ? Why, a poor sort of living. See, you have been growing fat here.'
Anton Ivanitch spat.
'No words of ill omen, my friend; is it far to misfortune ?' he observed, and began to eat some cabbage soup.
' Well, how did you get on there ? ' he asked.
' Oh ! not over well.'
' Tell me, were the provisions good ? what did you have to eat ? '
' Why, you get a jelly and a cold pie at the shop, and that's your dinner !'
' At the shop ? but hadn't you a kitchen of your own ? '
'They did not cook at home. Unmarried gentlemen there don't have cooking in the house.'
' What are you saying!' said Anton Ivanitch, laying down his spoon.
' 'Tis so, on my word; they sent the master's dinner in too from the cookshop.'
' What a gypsy's life ! oh ! he may well get thin ! Come, take a glass ! '
' I humbly thank you, sir! to your health !'
A silence followed. Anton Ivanitch was eating.
' What's the price of cucumbers there ? ' he asked, laying a cucumber on his plate.
' Forty pence a dozen.'
' As much as that ? '
' My goodness, yes; and, shameful to relate, sir, they sometimes bring salted cucumbers from Moscow.'
' O Lord ! well! no wonder he's thin !'
'Where would you see such a cucumber in town?' continued Yevsay, pointing to a cucumber, ' you'd not see such a one in your dreams. Such wretched little things— you would not look at them here, but there even gentlemen eat them. It's in few houses, sir, they bake their own bread.'
Anton Ivanitch shook his head, but said nothing because his mouth was quite full.
' How do they manage ? ' said he .munching.
' It's all at the grocer's; and what isn't at the grocer's is somewhere at the ham and beef shop, and what is not there is at the confectioner's; and if it's not at the confectioner's, you must go to the English shop: these French have everything.'
A pause.
'Well, and how much is sucking-pig?' asked Anton Ivanitch, taking on his plate almost half of one.
' I don't know; we didn't buy any; rather expensive, two roubles, I should say.'
' Oh, oh, oh! no wonder he's thin ! such prices ! '
' Why, look what kvas we have here, but there even the beer is thin ; and the kvas seems to set up a ferment in your stomach all day! The only thing good is the blacking—ah, there's blacking, you see again! such a scent it has; one could almost eat it!'
' What are you saying! *'
' Yes, 'pon my soul.'
A pause.
' Well, so is that how it is ?' asked Anton Ivanitch munching.
' Yes, just so.'
'You fared badly?'
'Yes, very badly. Alexandr Fedoritch eat the least possible; he got quite out of the way of eating; he wouldn't eat a pound of bread for dinner.'
'No wonder he's thin,' said Anton Ivanitch. 'Allbecause it was dear, was it.'
' Yes, it was dear, and besides, he hadn't the habit of eating his fill every day. The gentry eat as it were on the sly, once a day, or else when they have time, at five, sometimes at six; or they snatch a morsel of something and with that they've done. That's the last consideration with them; they do everything else first and leave eating to the last.'
' What a way of living !' said Anton Ivanitch. ' No wonder he's thin ! it's a marvel that you didn't die there ! And was it like this all the time ? '
'No; on holidays when the gentry meet together sometimes, upon my soul, how they do eat! They go to some German restaurant and they will dine for a hundred roubles I'm told. And they drink—God save us!— worse than a peasant! Sometimes there would be a party
at Piotr Ivanitch's; they would sit down to table at six o'clock, and get up at four in the morning.'
Anton Ivanitch opened his eyes.
' What are you saying!' he said, ' and they are eating all the while ?'
' They*are eating all the while !'
'I should like to see it; it's not our way! What do they eat ? '
' Oh, nothing worth seeing, sir ! You don't know what you are eating. God knows what the damned foreigners serve the victuals up with; I should not care to put them into my mouth. And their pepper is not like this ; they pour into the sauce something out of foreign bottles. Once Piotr Ivanitch's cook entertained me with the dishes from the master's table; I felt sick for three days after. I look, there's an olive in the dish, I thought it was an olive like they are here; I tasted it—look again; and there was a little fish; it was horrid, I spit it out, I took another .... and there it was the same; and in all alike .... ah, you damned foreigners.'
' But did they put them there on purpose?'
' God knows. I asked them; the fellows laugh, and say, yes, they grew so. And what are their dishes ? To begin with, they serve soup, with dumplings as it should be and they're scarcely dumplings—as big as thimbles, you put six at once in your mouth, try to chew them,—and already they've gone, melted away. After the soup they serve something sweet at once, then beef, then ice-cream, and then some kind of vegetable, and then a roast, and you could not eat it!'
' So they didn't cook at home with you ? Well, no wonder he's thin !' said Anton Ivanitch, getting up from the table.
' I thank thee, my God,' he began with a deep sigh, ' for
Thy heavenly blessings What am I saying! my tongue
is wandering—earthly blessings, and do not let me lack Thy heavenly guidance.' You can clear away; rhe master and mistress will not dine. For supper prepare another sucking-pig, or shouldn't it be a turkey ? Alexandr Fedoritch likes turkey: he will be hungry, I dare say. And now bring me some fresh hay in the attic, I will take a nap for the next hour; then wake me for tea. If Alexandr Fedoritch stirs, then wake me up.
When he rose from his nap he went to Anna Pavlovna.
'Well, what is it, Anton Ivanitch?' Bhe said.
' Nothing, ma'am, I humbly thank you for your bread and salt .... and I have had such a sweet sleep; the hay is so fresh, so fragrant.'
' I hope it has done you good, Anton Ivanitch. Well, and what did Yevsay say ! You questioned him ? '
' I should think so, indeed! I have found it all out; I know all, it's nothing to trouble about. The whole thing comes from their food there having been, it seems, so poor.'
' The food ? '
' Yes, consider yourself, cucumbers are forty pence the dozen, a sucking-pig is two roubles, and the cooking is all done at the confectioner's—and you can't eat your fill. No wonder he's thin! Don't be uneasy, ma'am, we'll set him on his legs here, we'll cure him. You tell them to prepare a good lot of birchwood infusion. I will give you the receipt; I had it from Prokoff Astafich; give it him morning and evening with mm or holy water, a little glass or two, before dinner. You might give it with holy water, have you some ? '
' Yes, yes; you brought me some already.'
