hunter notes

Chapter 23 General Manager (1)
About fifteen versts from my estate lived an acquaintance of mine, a young landowner and ex-guard officer Arkady Pavlitch Pinochkin.He had a lot of wild fowl on his property, his house was built to the plans of a French architect, his servants were dressed in English fashion, he was very particular about his food, and his hospitality was kind and hospitable, but you were not always happy to go to his house. .He was a reasonable, decent man, well educated as usual, held office, had been in society, and was now in business with some success.Arkady Pavlitch, in his own words, was strict and just, interested in the well-being of his subordinates, even punishing them for their own good. "Treat them like children," he said of these, "they are ignorant, mon cher; il faut prendre cela enconsidération." , do not like to raise their voices, but most of them stretch out their hands and point at the person, and calmly say: "Dear man, haven't I often told you?"

Or say: "What's the matter with you, my friend, think about it."

At this time, he just gritted his teeth lightly and curled his mouth.He was not tall, handsome, and good-looking, with clean hands and nails; and a healthy complexion on his ruddy lips and cheeks.His laugh was loud and easy, and his bright, brown eyes narrowed kindly.His attire is decent and elegant.He subscribed to French books, pictures, and newspapers, but he didn't like reading very much, and he managed to finish a volume of "The Wandering Jew".He is good at playing cards.To sum up, Arkady Pavlitch was one of the most cultivated nobles and one of the most admired men in our province; the women were fascinated by him, and especially praised his manners.He was very cautious in his conduct, as cautious as a cat, and he never got into trouble in his life; although he liked to show off and play tricks on the timid when he had the opportunity.He hated bad company very much—for fear of ruining his reputation; and when he was happy, he called himself an admirer of Epicurus, although he never had a good opinion of philosophy, and called it German scholars. Simply say that philosophy is nonsense.He also liked music; he often sang softly and with emotion when playing cards;Every winter he went to Petersburg.His house was so neat and tidy that even the coachmen were deeply influenced by him. They not only cleaned the horse's yoke and coat every day, but also took the initiative to wash their faces.The eyes of the servants of Arkady Pavlitch's house were indeed a little gloomy, but in our Russia you can't tell the difference between a sad face and a lack of sleep.Arkady Pavlitch spoke in a soft and melodious voice, as if every word came out of his own accord from his beautiful, perfumed mustache; he often used French phrases. , for example: "Mais c'est impayable!"

"Maiscom-ment donc!" and so on.For all these reasons, at least, I was not very inclined to call on him, and if it had not been for his partridges and partridges, I might have kept him out of society at all.In his house there is a strange uneasiness affecting you, which does not make you happy even if life is comfortable.Every night, when a curly-haired valet in a light blue livery with coat of arms buttons appears before you and starts groveling to pull down your boots for you, you feel that if this pale and thin Suddenly there was a strong young fellow with surprisingly wide cheekbones and a strangely flat nose (he had just been brought from the fields by his master, and the homespun clothes that had been awarded to him not long ago were torn in ten places) appeared. You will be indescribably happy in your presence, and willing to risk losing your calf with your boots... Although I did not like Arkady Pavlitch, I once lived at his house overnight.I gave orders for my four-wheeler to be harnessed early next morning, but he was not reconciled to my departure without an English breakfast, and led me into his study.

Meatloaf, soft-boiled eggs, cream, honey, cheese, etc. were brought out to us with tea.Two servants, wearing white gloves, waited on us smartly, quietly, and meticulously.We sat on a Persian couch.Arkady Pavlitch wore loose silk trousers, a black velvet overcoat, a smart feska cap with a blue tassel, and yellow Chinese slippers without heels.He drank tea, laughed, admired his nails, smoked, padded the cushions around his waist, and in general felt very happy.Arkady Pavlitch had eaten his breakfast, looked obviously satisfied, poured himself a glass of red wine, raised the glass to his lips, and frowned suddenly. "Why isn't the wine warm?" he asked one of the servants in a very harsh tone.The servant panicked and stood there motionless with a pale face. "My dear friend, I am asking you something!" continued Arkady Pavlitch calmly, keeping his eyes on him.The unfortunate valet stood anxiously, twisting his napkin, and said nothing.Arkady Pavlitch looked down at him, frowning thoughtfully.

"Pardon, mon cher." He said with a pleasant smile, patting my knee affectionately with his hand, and then staring intently at the valet again. "Hmph, go." He added after a moment of silence, raised his eyebrows, and pressed the call bell.

A fat, brunette, black-haired man with a low forehead and puffy eyes entered.

"Fyodor's business . . . go to work," Arkady Pavlitch said quietly.

"Got it." The fat man replied and went out.

"Voilà, moil cher, les désagréments de la campagne," said Arkady Pavlitch, smiling. "Well, where are you going? Don't hurry, sit down a little longer."

"No," I answered, "I must go." "Always hunting! Oh, you hunters! Where are you going now?"

"Go to Luepov, forty versts from here."

"To Rhebovo? Well, that's great, I'm going with you. Rhebovo is only five versts from Shibilovka, my domain, and I haven't been to Shibilovka for a long time, always I can't find time. What a coincidence this time! You went hunting today in Le Beauvoir, and you will come to my place tonight. Ce sera charmant. We will have dinner together - we will take the cook - and you will be with me. Spend the night. Very good! Very good!" Without waiting for an answer, he said: "c'est arrangé... Well, who's there? Order us a car, hurry up. You haven't been to Hebe Lovka? I'm a bit sorry for not asking you to spend the night at my steward's, but I know you don't mind, and you might spend the night in a hayloft in Lebovo. Let's go, let's go!"

Then Arkady Pavlitch sang a French ballad.

"Perhaps you don't know," he continued, wagging his feet, "I have farmers there who pay the labor rent. The constitution stipulates, what can I do? But they can pay me the labor rent exactly. To tell you the truth, I have long wanted to ask them to change to the labor lease system, but the land is too small! I have always wondered how they dealt with it. However, c'est leur affaire. The manager on my side is very capable People, une forte etête, people who do big things! You'll know it when you see it...a rare opportunity!"

There is nothing I can do.I was supposed to start at nine o'clock in the morning, but we didn't start until two o'clock in the afternoon.Comrades hunters must be able to understand my anxiety.Arkady Pavlitch, as he said himself, liked to enjoy the opportunity, and he brought with him an innumerable amount of underwear, food, drink, perfume, pillows, and all kinds of cosmetics, which were more than enough for a frugal and self-contained man. The Germans have enough for a year.Arkady Pavlitch always made short and severe remarks to the coachman every time we drove down the hill, and from this I concluded that my friend was a complete fear of death.However, the trip was very smooth, except that on a small bridge that had just been repaired, the cook's carriage overturned, and the rear wheel pressed his stomach.

When Arkady Pavlitch saw his own Kareem overturned, he was really alarmed, and hastily sent someone to ask him: Did you hurt your hand?When I got a satisfactory answer, I immediately felt relieved.We have been on the road for a long time because of these things.I was in the same carriage with Arkady Pavlitch, and towards the end of the trip I was terribly bored, especially since during the few hours of the journey my friend had completely relaxed and was beginning to show Liberal style.We finally arrived, but not to Lypovo, but directly to Shibilovka, somehow.Anyway, I couldn't hunt that day, so I had to resign myself to fate.

The cook arrived a few minutes before us, and evidently arrangements had been made to give notice to those concerned, so that when we drove up to the village gate the mayor (the steward's son) was there to meet us.He was a tall, stocky, brown-haired man on horseback, hatless, with a new coat unbuttoned. "Where is Sovron?" Arkady Pavlitch asked him.The mayor first dismounted swiftly from his horse, bowed deeply to his master, and said: "Good morning, Mr. Arkady Pavlitch." Then he lifted his head slightly, cheered himself up, and reported: Sovron arrived at Piero. The husband has gone, and someone has been sent to call him. "Well, come with us," said Arkady Pavlitch.The mayor, as a sign of courtesy, pulled his horse aside, climbed on it, and trotted after the carriage, hat in his hand.Our carriage is going around the village.We came across a few farmers sitting in empty wagons.They came from the threshing floor, singing all the way, shaking their bodies, dangling their legs dangling in the air, but when they saw our carriage and the village chief, they fell silent for a moment and took off their winter hats (It was summer at this time), leaned up and stood up, as if waiting for an order.Arkady Pavlitch nodded kindly to them.Horrified harassment apparently spread throughout the village.Peasant women in plaid skirts drove dull or overzealous dogs away with chips; a lame old man with a mustache A smack in the stomach, and a bow.The little boys in long shirts ran into the house crying, put their stomachs on the high threshold, lowered their heads, raised their feet, and rolled nimbly through the door into the dark front room. , no longer showing his face from there.Even the hens panicked and quickened their pace to get into the gap under the gate.Only one bold rooster, with a black breast like a satin waistcoat and a red tail touching its comb, remained on the road, fully ready to crow, and suddenly became embarrassed and also fled.The steward's house was separate from the others and was built in the middle of a lush green hemp field.Our carriage stopped before the gate.Mr. Arkady Pavlitch Pinochkin got up, took off his cloak handsomely, got out of the carriage, and looked around amiably.The steward's wife greeted us with a low bow, and came to kiss the master's hand.Arkady Pavlitch had given her enough kisses before going up the steps.In a dark corner of the front room stood the mayor's wife, who also bowed but did not dare to come and kiss her hands.In the so-called cold room—to the right of the front room—two other women were already there tidying up.They carried out all kinds of rags, empty pots, stiff leather jackets, oil bowls, a cradle with a pile of rags and a dirty baby, and dusted it with a bathroom broom.Arkady Pavlitch sent them out and sat down on the bench under the icon.The coachmen began to bring in boxes, large and small, and other useful objects, and to walk with as little noise as possible from their heavy boots.

Arkady Pavlitch then asked the elder about harvesting, sowing, and other things in the field.The village chief's answer satisfied him, but for some reason his attitude was sluggish and unhappy, as if he was buttoning his coat with his frozen fingers.He stood by the door, watching carefully, making way for the nimble servant.Over his strong shoulders I saw the steward's wife quietly beating another woman in the passage.Suddenly the sound of a carriage was heard, it stopped in front of the steps, and then the butler came in.

This Arkady Pavlitch so-called great man was a small, broad-shouldered, pale-haired, solidly built man with a red nose, small pale blue eyes, and a fan-shaped beard.As a side note: since the beginning of Russia, there has not been a rich man in the country without a thick beard; some people have only had a thin pointed beard for a long time, and suddenly they grow beards, like a circle of light. I don’t know this kind of hair Where did it come from!The steward was probably a little drunk in Perov, his face was quite swollen and he smelled of alcohol.

"Ah, you, our good lord, our great benefactor." He began to speak in a long voice, with a very excited expression on his face, as if he was about to shed tears. "It's hard to wait for you!... Please stretch out your hand, sir, please stretch out your hand." When he said this, his lips had already stretched out.

Arkady Pavlitch granted his wish. "Well, brother Sofron, how is the situation on your side?" he asked in a friendly tone. "Oh, you, our good lord!" exclaimed Sovron, "how can things be so bad! You, our good lord, our great benefactor, have done a great favor to our village. Glory, you have brought us a lifetime of happiness! God bless you, Arkady Pavlitch, God bless you! Thanks to you, everything is going well."

Sovron was silent for a while, looked at the master, then seemed to be emotional again (drunkness was also going on), and spoke more in tune than before.

"Oh, you, our good lord, our benefactor... ah... really! I am so happy that I am crazy... I can't believe it is true... Oh, you, our good lord! ..."

Arkady Pavlitch looked at me, smiled, and asked: "N'est-ce pas que c'est touchant?"

"Ah, sir, Arkady Pavlitch," continued the chattering steward, "what's the matter with you? You're driving me crazy, sir, you didn't inform me of your coming. Where are you tonight? What about staying overnight? Look at how dirty it is, full of dust..."

(End of this chapter)