Howl came to be lawfully wed

Anton Chekhoi

After we had finished the punch, our parents murmured a few words to each other and left us alone.

'Go ahead!' my father whispered to me on his way out. 'Say the words!'

'But how can I declare my love,' I whispered back, 'if I don't love her?'

'No one's asking what you want to do, you idiot!'

My father gave me an angry stare and left the garden pavilion. Then, after everyone had gone, a woman's hand reached in the half-open door and snatched the candle from the table. We sat in the dark.

'Well, there's no escaping now!' I thought, and with a discreet cough I said briskly, 'I see that circumstances favour me, Zoe Andreyevna! At last we are alone, and darkness comes to my aid, for it covers the shame written on my face ... the shame pouring from the feelings with which my soul is ablaze.'

Suddenly I stopped. I could hear Zoe Andreyevna's heart beating and her teeth chattering. Her whole organism was trembling — I could hear and feel it from the way the bench was shaking. The poor girl didn't love me. She hated me, the way a dog hates the stick that beats it. She despised me, you could say, as only an idiot can. Suddenly I feel like an orang-utan, ugly — even though I'm covered in medals and honours — no better than a beast, fatfaced, pimply, covered with stubble; alcohol and a perpetual cold have made my nose red and bloated! A bear has more grace than I do. And don't even mention my intellectual qualities! With her, with Zoe. I had pulled an immoral trick before she became my bride. I stopped in midsentence, because suddenly I felt deeply sorry for her.

'Let us go out into the garden,' I said. 'It's stifling in here.'

We went out and walked down the garden path. Our parents, who had been listening by the door, had managed to scamper into the bushes just before we appeared. The moonbeams played on ZOe'S face. Idiot though I was, I thought I could read in that face all the sweet pain of bondage. I sighed and continued: 'The nightingale sings for its sweetheart ... and I, all alone in this world, who can I sing to?'

Zoe blushed and lowered her eyes. She was acting to perfection the role she was expected to play. We sat on a bench by the stream, beyond which a church glimmered white. Behind the church towered Count Kuldarov's mansion, in which his clerk lived. Bolnitsin, the man Zoe loved. As she sat down on the bench she fixed her gaze on the mansion. My heart sank and shrivelled with pity. My God, my God! May heaven smile on our parents ... but they should be sent down to hell, for a week at least!

'All my happiness rests on a single person,' I continued. `I feel deeply for that person ... her perfume ... I love her, and should she not return my love, then I am lost ... dead ... You are that person. Can you love me? Huh? Could you love me?'

'I love you,' she whispered.

I must confess I almost died. I had thought she would dig in her heels, since she was deeply in love with someone else. I had relied on her passion for the other man, but things turned out quite differently. She wasn't strong enough to swim against the tide!

'I love you,' she repeated, and burst into tears.

'But, no, that can't be!' I shouted, not knowing what I was saying, my whole body shaking. 'How is it possible? Zoe Anclreyevna — do not believe a word of what I said! My God, do not believe a word! May I roast in hell if I am in love with you! And you do not love me! This is all nonsense!'

I jumped up from the bench.

'We needn't go through with this! This is a farce! They are forcing us to marry for money, Zoe. What love is there between us? I would rather have a millstone around my neck than marry you! It's as simple as that ! Damn! What right do they have to do this to us? What do they think we are? Serfs? Dogs? We won't get married! Damn them, the bastards! We've danced to their tune long enough already! I'm going to them right this minute to tell them that I won't marry you — it's as simple as that!' Zoe suddenly stopped crying, her tears instantly dried up.

'I'm going to tell them right now!' I continued. 'And you tell them too. Tell them that you don't love me — that it's Bolnitsin you love. And I'll be the first to shake Bolnitsin's hand ... I'm fully aware of how deeply in love you are with him!'

Zoe smiled happily and came up to me.

'And you're in love with someone else too, aren't you?', she said, rubbing her hands together. 'You're in love with Mademoiselle De Beux!'

'Yes,' I said, 'Mademoiselle De Beux. She's not Russian Orthodox, and she's not rich. but I love her for her mind and her edifying qualities. My parents can send me to hell, but I will marry her! I love her, I think I love her even more than I love life itself! I cannot live without her! If I can't marry her, then I no longer wish to live!

I'm going right this minute let's both go and tell these fools ... oh, thank you, my dearest ... you have comforted me no end!'

My soul was flooded with happiness, and I thanked Zoe again and again, and she thanked me. And both of us, overjoyed, thankful, kissed each other's hands, commending each other on our high-mindedness. I kissed her hands; she kissed my forehead, the stubble of my beard. It seems that, forgetting all etiquette, I even hugged her! And let me tell you, this declaration of my nonlove was sweeter than any declaration of love could be! Joyful, rosy, trembling all over, we rushed to the house to tell our parents of our decision. As we crossed the garden, we cheered each other on.

`So let them shout at us!' I said. 'They can beat us, even throw us out, at least we'll be happy!'

We entered the house, and there, by the door, our parents were waiting. They took one look at us, saw how happy we were, and immediately called the butler. He brought in the champagne. I started protesting, waving my arms, stamping my feet Zoe began crying, shrieking ... there was a tremendous uproar, a rumpus, and we didn't get to drink the champagne.

But they married us anyway.

Today is our silver wedding anniversary. We have lived together for a quarter of a century. Initially it was terrible. I swore at her, beat her, and then out of regret began loving her. This regret brought with it children ... and then ... well ... we just got used to each other. This very moment my darling Zoe is standing right behind me. Laying her hands on my shoulders, she kisses my bald spot.

This story is from The Undiscovered Chekhov, translated by Peter Constantine (Duck Editions £14.99, pp. 270, ISBN 0715631063), published on 26 April. Available at £12.99, post free, through The Spectator Bookshop. To order please call 0870 155 7228 or write to 32-34 Park Royal Road, London NW10 7 LN.