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    Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories

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      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 Trésor! Little Trésor!'

      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 Trésor 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 Trésor: 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 Trésor 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 Trésor, 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 Trésor 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 Trésor?' 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 Trésor 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 Trésor 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 Trésor to the hour of my death.

      "Well, I had the carriage brought round, put my Trésor 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 Trésor, 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 Trésor 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

     


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