The Daughter of the Commandant

"But the eyes which enslaved me are ever before me.

My soul have they troubled and ruined my rest.

"Oh! Masha, who knowest my sorrows,

Seeing me in this miserable plight,

Take pity on thy captive."

"What do you think of that?" I said to Chvabrine, expecting praise as a

tribute due to me. But to my great displeasure Chvabrine, who usually

showed kindness, told me flatly my song was worth nothing.

"Why?" I asked, trying to hide my vexation.

"Because such verses," replied he, "are only worthy of my master

Trediakofski,[45] and, indeed, remind me very much of his little erotic

couplets."

He took the MSS. from my hand and began unmercifully criticizing each

verse, each word, cutting me up in the most spiteful way. That was too

much for me; I snatched the MSS. out of his hands, and declared that

never, no never, would I ever again show him one of my compositions.

Chvabrine did not laugh the less at this threat.

"Let us see," said he, "if you will be able to keep your word; poets

have as much need of an audience as Ivan Kouzmitch has need of his

'petit verre' before dinner. And who is this Masha to whom you declare

your tender sentiments and your ardent flame? Surely it must be Marya

Ivanofna?"

"That does not concern you," replied I, frowning; "I don't ask for your

advice nor your suppositions."

"Oh! oh! a vain poet and a discreet lover," continued Chvabrine,

irritating me more and more. "Listen to a little friendly advice: if you

wish to succeed, I advise you not to stick at songs."

"What do you mean, sir?" I exclaimed; "explain yourself if you please."

"With pleasure," rejoined he. "I mean that if you want to be well with

Masha Mironoff, you need only make her a present of a pair of earrings

instead of your languishing verses."

My blood boiled.

"Why have you such an opinion of her?" I asked him, restraining with

difficulty my indignation.

"Because," replied he, with a satanic smile, "because I know by

experience her views and habits."

"You lie, you rascal!" I shouted at him, in fury. "You are a shameless

liar."

Chvabrine's face changed.

"This I cannot overlook," he said; "you shall give me satisfaction."

"Certainly, whenever you like," replied I, joyfully; for at that moment

I was ready to tear him in pieces.

I rushed at once to Iwan Ignatiitch, whom I found with a needle in his

hand. In obedience to the order of the Commandant's wife, he was

threading mushrooms to be dried for the winter.

"Ah! Petr' Andrejitch," said he, when he saw me; "you are welcome. On

what errand does heaven send you, if I may presume to ask?"

I told him in a few words that I had quarrelled with Alexey Ivanytch,

and that I begged him, Iwan Ignatiitch, to be my second. Iwan Ignatiitch

heard me till I had done with great attention, opening wide his single

eye.