Lyubov Grigoryevna, a substantial, buxom lady of forty who
undertook matchmaking and many other matters of which it is usual to speak only
in whispers, had come to see Stytchkin, the head guard, on a day when he was
off duty. Stytchkin, somewhat embarrassed, but, as always, grave, practical,
and severe, was walking up and down the room, smoking a cigar and saying:
"Very pleased to make your acquaintance. Semyon Ivanovitch
recommended you on the ground that you may be able to assist me in a delicate
and very important matter affecting the happiness of my life. I have, Lyubov
Grigoryevna, reached the age of fifty-two; that is a period of life at which very
many have already grown-up children. My position is a secure one. Though my
fortune is not large, yet I am in a position to support a beloved being and
children at my side. I may tell you between ourselves that apart from my salary
I have also money in the bank which my manner of living has enabled me to save.
I am a practical and sober man, I lead a sensible and consistent life, so that
I may hold myself up as an example to many. But one thing I lack -- a domestic
hearth of my own and a partner in life, and I live like a wandering Magyar,
moving from place to place without any satisfaction. I have no one with whom to
take counsel, and when I am ill no one to give me water, and so on. Apart from
that, Lyubov Grigoryevna, a married man has always more weight in society than
a bachelor. . . . I am a man of the educated class, with money, but if you look
at me from a point of view, what am I? A man with no kith and kin, no better
than some Polish priest. And therefore I should be very desirous to be united in
the bonds of Hymen -- that is, to enter into matrimony with some worthy
person."
"An excellent thing," said the matchmaker, with a
sigh.
"I am a solitary man and in this town I know no one. Where
can I go, and to whom can I apply, since all the people here are strangers to
me? That is why Semyon Ivanovitch advised me to address myself to a person who
is a specialist in this line, and makes the arrangement of the happiness of
others her profession. And therefore I most earnestly beg you, Lyubov Grigoryevna,
to assist me in ordering my future. You know all the marriageable young ladies
in the town, and it is easy for you to accommodate me."
"I can. . . ."
"A glass of wine, I beg you. . . ."
With an habitual gesture the matchmaker raised her glass to her
mouth and tossed it off without winking.
"I can," she repeated. "And what sort of bride
would you like, Nikolay Nikolayitch?"
"Should I like? The bride fate sends me."
"Well, of course it depends on your fate, but everyone has
his own taste, you know. One likes dark ladies, the other prefers fair
ones."
"You see, Lyubov Grigoryevna," said Stytchkin, sighing
sedately, "I am a practical man and a man of character; for me beauty and
external appearance generally take a secondary place, for, as you know
yourself, beauty is neither bowl nor platter, and a pretty wife involves a
great deal of anxiety. The way I look at it is, what matters most in a woman is
not what is external, but what lies within -- that is, that she should have
soul and all the qualities. A glass of wine, I beg. . . . Of course, it would
be very agreeable that one's wife should be rather plump, but for mutual
happiness it is not of great consequence; what matters is the mind. Properly
speaking, a woman does not need mind either, for if she has brains she will
have too high an opinion of herself, and take all sorts of ideas into her head.
One cannot do without education nowadays, of course, but education is of
different kinds. It would be pleasing for one's wife to know French and German,
to speak various languages, very pleasing; but what's the use of that if she
can't sew on one's buttons, perhaps? I am a man of the educated class: I am
just as much at home, I may say, with Prince Kanitelin as I am with you here
now. But my habits are simple, and I want a girl who is not too much a fine
lady. Above all, she must have respect for me and feel that I have made her
happiness."
"To be sure."
"Well, now as regards the essential. . . . I do not want a
wealthy bride; I would never condescend to anything so low as to marry for
money. I desire not to be kept by my wife, but to keep her, and that she may be
sensible of it. But I do not want a poor girl either. Though I am a man of
means, and am marrying not from mercenary motives, but from love, yet I cannot take
a poor girl, for, as you know yourself, prices have gone up so, and there will
be children."
"One might find one with a dowry," said the
matchmaker.
"A glass of wine, I beg. . . ."
There was a pause of five minutes.
The matchmaker heaved a sigh, took a sidelong glance at the
guard, and asked:
"Well, now, my good sir . . . do you want anything in the
bachelor line? I have some fine bargains. One is a French girl and one is a
Greek. Well worth the money."
The guard thought a moment and said:
"No, I thank you. In view of your favourable disposition,
allow me to enquire now how much you ask for your exertions in regard to a
bride?"
"I don't ask much. Give me twenty-five roubles and the
stuff for a dress, as is usual, and I will say thank you . . . but for the
dowry, that's a different account."
Stytchkin folded his arms over his chest and fell to pondering
in silence. After some thought he heaved a sigh and said:
"That's dear. . . ."
"It's not at all dear, Nikolay Nikolayitch! In old days
when there were lots of weddings one did do it cheaper, but nowadays what are
our earnings? If you make fifty roubles in a month that is not a fast, you may
be thankful. It's not on weddings we make our money, my good sir."
Stytchkin looked at the matchmaker in amazement and shrugged his
shoulders.
"H'm! . . . Do you call fifty roubles little?" he
asked.
"Of course it is little! In old days we sometimes made more
than a hundred."
"H'm! I should never have thought it was possible to earn
such a sum by these jobs. Fifty roubles! It is not every man that earns as
much! Pray drink your wine. . . ."
The matchmaker drained her glass without winking. Stytchkin
looked her over from head to foot in silence, then said:
"Fifty roubles. . . . Why, that is six hundred roubles a
year. . . . Please take some more. . . With such dividends, you know, Lyubov
Grigoryevna, you would have no difficulty in making a match for yourself. . .
."
"For myself," laughed the matchmaker, "I am an
old woman."
"Not at all. . . . You have such a figure, and your face is
plump and fair, and all the rest of it."
The matchmaker was embarrassed. Stytchkin was also embarrassed
and sat down beside her.
"You are still very attractive," said he; "if you
met with a practical, steady, careful husband, with his salary and your
earnings you might even attract him very much, and you'd get on very well
together. . . ."
"Goodness knows what you are saying, Nikolay
Nikolayitch."
"Well, I meant no harm. . . ."
A silence followed. Stytchkin began loudly blowing his nose,
while the matchmaker turned crimson, and looking bashfully at him, asked:
"And how much do you get, Nikolay Nikolayitch?"
"I? Seventy-five roubles, besides tips. . . . Apart from
that we make something out of candles and hares."
"You go hunting, then?"
"No. Passengers who travel without tickets are called hares
with us."
Another minute passed in silence. Stytchkin got up and walked
about the room in excitement.
"I don't want a young wife," said he. "I am a
middle-aged man, and I want someone who . . . as it might be like you . . .
staid and settled and a figure something like yours. . . ."
"Goodness knows what you are saying . . ." giggled the
matchmaker, hiding her crimson face in her kerchief.
"There is no need to be long thinking about it. You are
after my own heart, and you suit me in your qualities. I am a practical, sober
man, and if you like me . . . what could be better? Allow me to make you a
proposal!"
The matchmaker dropped a tear, laughed, and, in token of her
consent, clinked glasses with Stytchkin.
"Well," said the happy railway guard, "now allow
me to explain to you the behaviour and manner of life I desire from you. . . .
I am a strict, respectable, practical man. I take a gentlemanly view of
everything. And I desire that my wife should be strict also, and should
understand that to her I am a benefactor and the foremost person in the
world."
He sat down, and, heaving a deep sigh, began expounding to his
bride-elect his views on domestic life and a wife's duties.
EmoticonEmoticon