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WOMEN’S GOOD FORTUNE

It was the funeral of Lieutenant General Zapupirina.  To the home of the deceased, where funereal music mournfully resounded and words of command were heard, from all sides streamed crowds anxious to watch the carrying out ceremony. In one of the groups hurrying to see it were two government clerks, Probkin and Svistkov. Both of them were accompanied by their wives.

“It’s not permitted gentlemen!” The assistant police superintendent, a man with a pleasant easygoing face, stopped them from going beyond the barrier. “It’s not permitted gentlemen! I must ask you to step back a bit. Gentlemen, you know, this does not depend on us. I must ask you to step back. However, you ladies, so be it, you may go through. This way please, Mesdames... But Gentlemen, please, for heaven’s sake...”

The wives of Probkin and Svistikov blushed from the unexpected kindness of the assistant superintendent and darted through the barrier. The two men were left on the other side of the living wall contemplating the posteriors of the uniformed officers on foot and on horseback.

“They’ve got through!” said Probkin, looking with envy and almost with hatred at the disappearing women. “What good luck these chignons have, dear God! Us poor males will never be accorded such privileges as they get, the women. And what is there in them that is so special? They are just ordinary women, it must be said, with their prejudices, and yet they got through. Yet you and I, even if we were top rank civil servants, would not be let in on any account.”

“What a strange line of reasoning Sir,” said the assistant superintendent, looking reproachfully at Probkin. “If we were to let you through then you would immediately start shoving and creating scenes. The women with their sense of delicacy would never permit themselves to indulge in such things.”

“Oh drop it, please,” responded Probkin in an angry tone. “a woman in a crowd is always the first to start shoving. A man stands and just looks at some fixed thing, whereas a woman spreads her arms wide and pushes so that no one spoils her attire. It’s not worth discussing. The female sex always has all the good luck. Women are not taken on as soldiers, they get in free to dances, they are not subject to corporal punishment... And why, one may ask, do they deserve this? A girl drops her scarf - you pick it up, she comes into the room – you stand up and give her your seat, she goes out – you accompany her... And consider the matter of rank. For you and I to reach the level of, say, state councillor, we’d have to toil all our lives, whereas some chit of a girl can marry a state councillor, and hey presto, she is an important person. For me to become a prince or a count I’d have to get all the world to my way of thinking, fight the battle of Shipka, befriend the ministers, yet comes along, God save us, some Varenka or Katenka, the milk on her lips scarcely dry, she twirls her skirt in front of a count, squints her eyes – and straightaway she’s ‘Your Grace.’ You, for example, are currently a district council secretary. You earned that rank with blood and the sweat of your brow. But what of your Marya Fominishna? Why should she have your rank? From a sub- daughter straight into a position of rank? She’s a fine district council secretary’s wife. Give her our job and she’d write the income in the expenditure column.”

“Still, she has to bear the pain of childbirth.”

“A mighty matter, I don’t think. Let her stand in front of our superior when he wants to give you a roasting, then this child bearing would seem to her quite a pleasure! They get privileges in absolutely everything. Some girl or woman of our circle can blurt out some nonsense to a general which you, even in the presence of a guarantor would not dare to say. Yes, your Mary Fominishna can go arm in arm with a top civil servant, but just you try and do that same thing. Go on, take him by the arm, just try it! In our block, my friend, directly underneath us, lives some professor with his wife. The equivalent rank of general, you understand, decorated with an Anna of the first rank, but all the time you hear how his wife gets at him. “You fool, you fool, you fool.” But she’s just a simple woman, from the lower business echelons. But I suppose that’s normal in lawful matrimony. From time immemorial it’s been established, that lawful spouses nag each other, but what about unlawful situations? What sort of things do those sorts permit themselves? Till the end of time I’ll not forget one incident. It nearly did for me, but thanks to my parents’ prayers, I pulled through. Last year, do you remember, our general, when he retired to his country estate, took me with him to manage his correspondence. It was trifling employment, about an hour of work. I would finish my work and then go off for a stroll in the woods, or to the servants’ quarters to hear their tales. Our general was a bachelor. The house was a house of plenty, multitudes of servants, like dogs, but there was no wife and no one to organise the place. The servants were all dissolute and out of control. There was one woman in charge who ordered everyone about, a housekeeper by the name of Vera Nikitishana. She would pour the tea, decide what to have for dinner, shout at the servants. She was a ghastly woman, my friend, poisonous, she was the very devil. Fat, red-faced, always screaming. When she starts to shout at someone, when she gets into screaming mode, there’s nothing for it, take the holy icons out of the room. It’s not the cursing that is unbearable, it’s that awful screaming. Lord above! Life was impossible for everyone. It was not only the servants, but even me she set upon, the animal. You wait, I thought to myself, I’ll find the right moment and I’ll tell the general all about you. He’s preoccupied with service affairs, and he doesn’t see how you are robbing him, and maltreating the servants, you just wait, I’ll open his eyes alright. And I did open his eyes for him, my friend, but in such a way that I almost lost the sight of my own eyes for ever. Even now, when I think of it, I turn quite queer. I was walking down the corridor once, and suddenly I heard a screaming. At first I thought it was a pig being killed, then I listened more carefully, and I heard that it was Vera Nikitishina scolding someone. “You swine, you useless shit, you monster!” Who is that, I thought. And then suddenly, my friend, I saw, the door opened and the general came flying out, his face all red, his eyes on stalks, his hair as if the devil had blown on it. And she shouting after him “You useless shit, you monster.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You have my word of honour. I found myself, of course getting very hot under the collar. Our general went off to his own room, and I stood in the corridor like a fool, I couldn’t understand a thing. A simple uneducated woman, a cook, a piece of filth, and yet she permits herself such words and actions. Evidently, I thought, the general decided to read the riot act to her, and she seized the opportunity of there being no witnesses so as to tear him to pieces. It’s all the same to her. Something in me exploded. I went into her room and said to her, “How dare you, you worthless trash, speak to a man of such importance in that vile way. Do you think, just because he’s an old man, that no one will stand up for him.” Then I upped and landed a couple of sharp slaps on her fat chops. But then what a screaming, what a caterwauling she set up, God damn her three times over, good Lord above! I covered my ears and escaped to the woods. But then a couple of hours later a page boy comes running out to me. “Would you go and see his excellency?” he says. So I set off and go to him. He’s sitting down, frowning, like a turkey cock, not looking at me.

“What’s this you’ve managed to set up for me in my own home?”

“How do you mean?” I replied. “If you are talking about Nikitishina, your excellency, then I did act on your behalf.”

“It was not your business to intervene in someone else’s family affairs.” So, what do you think of that? Family! And once he’d started to lambast me and give me a roasting, my friend, I nearly died on the spot. He rambled on and on and grumbled and grumbled, then suddenly, without rhyme or reason, he burst out laughing. “But how on earth did you manage to do it? What sort of boldness suddenly took possession of you? It’s marvellous! But I hope, dear chap, that all this will remain between ourselves. Your hot headedness is quite understandable, but you do realise that your continued presence in my house is impossible.”

So you see, my friend, he was quite amazed by the fact that I could give a beating to that self-important peacock. The woman had blinded him. He was a privy councillor, had the order of the white eagle, recognised no authority above him, but he had submitted himself to that woman. You see, the privileges women have are enormous! But ... take off your hats! They’re bringing out the general. Holy Fathers, what a huge array of medals! You see, they let the women go forward, but what do they know about medals and ranks?”

The music started to play.