Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
No matter how severe the attack of gout was at night, no matter how his nerves creaked afterwards, Kistunov still went to work in the morning and promptly began accepting applicants and clients of the bank. He looked languid, tortured, and he spoke barely, barely breathing, like a dying man.
-What do you want? - he turned to the petitioner in an antediluvian cloak, very similar from behind to a large dung beetle.
“If you please to see, Your Excellency,” the petitioner began quickly, “my husband, collegiate assessor Shchukin, was ill for five months, and while he, excuse me, was lying at home and being treated, he was given his resignation for no reason, Your Excellency, and when I went to collect his salary, they, if you please see, deducted 24 rubles 36 kopecks from his salary! For what? - I ask. - “And he, they say, took from the comrade’s cash register, and other officials vouched for him.” How so? What could he have taken without my consent? This is impossible, Your Excellency. Yes, why is this? I’m a poor woman, I just feed myself from the tenants... I’m weak, defenseless... I suffer insults from everyone and don’t hear a kind word from anyone...
The petitioner blinked her eyes and reached into her coat for a scarf. Kistunov took the petition from her and began to read.
- Excuse me, how is this? – he shrugged his shoulders. - I don’t understand anything. Obviously, you, madam, are in the wrong place. Your request essentially does not apply to us at all. You will take the trouble to contact the department where your husband served.
“And-and, father, I’ve already been to five places, and everywhere they didn’t even accept a petition!” - said Shchukina. “I’ve already lost my head, but thank you, God bless my son-in-law Boris Matveich, he advised me to go see you.” “You, mother, he says, turn to Mr. Kistunov: he is an influential man, he can do everything for you”... Help, Your Excellency!
No matter how severe the attack of gout was at night, no matter how his nerves creaked afterwards, Kistunov still went to work in the morning and promptly began accepting applicants and clients of the bank. He looked languid, tortured, and he spoke barely, barely breathing, like a dying man.
What do you want? - he turned to the petitioner in an antediluvian cloak, very similar from behind to a large dung beetle.
If you please see, Your Excellency,” the petitioner began quickly, “my husband, collegiate assessor Shchukin, was ill for five months, and while he, excuse me, was lying at home and being treated, he was given his resignation for no reason, Your Excellency, and when I went for his salary, they, if you please see, deducted 24 rubles 36 kopecks from his salary! For what? - I ask. - “And he, they say, took from the comrade’s cash register and other officials vouched for him.” How so? What could he have taken without my consent? This is impossible, Your Excellency. Yes, why is this? I’m a poor woman, I just feed myself from the tenants... I’m weak, defenseless... I suffer insults from everyone and don’t hear a kind word from anyone...
The petitioner blinked her eyes and reached into her coat for a scarf. Kistunov took the petition from her and began to read.
Excuse me, how is this? - he shrugged his shoulders. - I don’t understand anything. Obviously, you, madam, are in the wrong place. Your request essentially does not apply to us at all. You will take the trouble to contact the department where your husband served.
And-and, father, I’ve already been to five places, and everywhere they didn’t even accept my petition! - said Shchukina. “I’ve already lost my head, but thank you, God bless my son-in-law Boris Matveich, he advised me to go see you.” “You, mother, he says, turn to Mr. Kistunov: he is an influential man, he can do everything for you”... Help, Your Excellency!
We, Mrs. Shchukina, cannot do anything for you... Understand: your husband, as far as I can judge, served in the military medical department, and our institution is completely private, commercial, we have a bank. How can one not understand this!
Kistunov shrugged his shoulders again and turned to the gentleman in military uniform, with flux.
Your Excellency,” Shchukina sang in a plaintive voice, “I have a doctor’s certificate that my husband was ill!” Here it is, if you please take a look!
“Fine, I believe you,” Kistunov said irritably, “but, I repeat, this does not apply to us.” Strange and even funny! Does your husband really not know where to turn?
He, Your Excellency, doesn’t know anything about me. Charged one: “None of your business! Get out!” and that's all... Whose business is it? After all, they are sitting on my neck! On my-she!
Kistunov turned to Shchukina again and began to explain to her the difference between a military medical department and a private bank. She listened to him carefully, nodded her head in agreement and said:
Yes, yes, yes... I understand, father. In that case, Your Excellency, order me to give you at least 15 rubles! I don't agree with everything at once.
Ugh! - Kistunov sighed, throwing his head back. - You can’t explain it! Please understand that turning to us with such a request is as strange as submitting a petition for divorce, for example, to a pharmacy or an assay office. You were underpaid, but what does that have to do with us?
“Your Excellency, make me pray to God forever, have pity on me, an orphan,” Shchukina began to cry. - I am a defenseless, weak woman... I was tortured to death... And I sue the tenants, and take care of my husband, and run around the house, and here I am fasting and my son-in-law is without a place... Only one glory is that I drink and eat, but I can barely stand on my feet ... I didn’t sleep all night.
Kistunov felt his heartbeat. Making a pained face and pressing his hand to his heart, he again began to explain to Shchukina, but his voice broke off...
No, sorry, I can’t talk to you,” he said and waved his hand. - I even felt dizzy. You're disturbing us too and you're wasting our time. Ugh!.. Alexey Nikolaich,” he turned to one of the employees, “please explain to Mrs. Shchukina!”
Kistunov, having bypassed all the petitioners, went to his office and signed a dozen papers, while Alexey Nikolaich was still busy with Shchukina. Sitting in his office, Kistunov heard two voices for a long time: the monotonous, restrained bass of Alexei Nikolaich and the crying, squealing voice of Shchukina...
“I am a defenseless, weak woman, I am a sickly woman,” said Shchukina. “I may look strong, but if you take it apart, there’s not a single healthy vein in me.” I can barely stand on my feet and have lost my appetite... I drank coffee today, and without any pleasure.
And Alexey Nikolaich explained to her the difference between departments and the complex system of sending papers. He soon grew tired and was replaced by an accountant.
Amazingly nasty woman! - Kistunov was indignant, nervously wringing his fingers and every now and then going up to the carafe of water. - It's an idiot, traffic jam! She tortured me and will come to visit them, the vile one! Phew... my heart is beating!
Half an hour later he called. Alexey Nikolaich appeared.
What do you have there? - Kistunov asked languidly.
There’s no way we can explain it, Pyotr Alexandrovich! Just tired. We tell her about Thomas, and she talks about Yerema...
Call the doorman, Pyotr Alexandrovich, let him take her out.
No no! - Kistunov was scared. “She’ll start screaming, and there are a lot of apartments in this building, and God knows what they might think about us... You, my dear, try to explain to her somehow.”
A minute later, Alexei Nikolaich’s buzzing sound was heard again. A quarter of an hour passed, and his bass was replaced by the hum of the accountant's hoarse tenor voice.
Remarkably vile! - Kistunov was indignant, shaking his shoulders nervously. - Stupid as a gray gelding, damn her. It seems my gout is on the rise again... Migraine again...
In the next room, Alexey Nikolaich, exhausted, finally tapped his finger on the table, then on his forehead.
In a word, it’s not your head on your shoulders,” he said, “but this is what...
Well, nothing, nothing... - the old woman was offended. - Knock on your wife... Well! Don't give your hands much free rein.
And, looking at her with anger, with frenzy, as if wanting to swallow her, Alexey Nikolaich said in a quiet, strangled voice:
Get out of here!
What-oh? - Shchukina suddenly squealed. - How dare you? I am a weak, defenseless woman, I won’t allow it! My husband is a collegiate assessor! What a well! I’ll go see lawyer Dmitry Karlych, so your title won’t be left! I sued three tenants, and for your impudent words you will fall at my feet! I'll go to your general! Your Excellency! Your Excellency!
Get out of here, you ulcer! - Alexey Nikolaich hissed.
Kistunov opened the door and looked out into the presence.
Shchukina, red as a lobster, stood in the middle of the room and, rolling her eyes, pointed her fingers in the air. The bank employees stood on both sides and, also red-faced, apparently tortured, looked at each other in confusion.
Your Excellency! - Shchukina rushed to Kistunov. - This one, this one... this one... (she pointed to Alexei Nikolaich) tapped his finger on his forehead, and then on the table... You told him to sort out my case, but he scoffs! I am a weak, defenseless woman... My husband is a collegiate assessor, and I myself am a major’s daughter!
“Okay, madam,” Kistunov groaned, “I’ll sort it out... I’ll take measures... Go away... after!..”
When will I receive it, Your Excellency? I need money now!
Kistunov ran a trembling hand over his forehead, sighed and began to explain again:
Madam, I already told you. Here is a bank, a private institution, a commercial one... What do you want from us? And really understand that you are disturbing us.
Shchukina listened to him and sighed.
Yes, yes... - she agreed. - Only you, Your Excellency, do me a favor, make me pray to God forever, be my own father, protect me. If the medical certificate is not enough, then I can present a certificate from the police station... Order them to give me the money!
Kistunov’s eyes began to light up. He exhaled all the air he had in his lungs and sank into a chair, exhausted.
How much do you want to receive? - he asked in a weak voice.
24 rubles 36 kopecks.
Kistunov took his wallet out of his pocket, took out a quarter note and handed it to Shchukina.
Take it... and leave!
Shchukina wrapped the money in a handkerchief, hid it and, wrinkling her face into a sweet, delicate, even flirtatious smile, asked:
Your Excellency, is it possible for my husband to go back to work?
I’ll leave... I’m sick... - said Kistunov in a languid voice. - I have a terrible heartbeat.
After his departure, Alexey Nikolaich sent Nikita for cherry laurel drops, and everyone, taking 20 drops, sat down to work, and Shchukina then sat in the hallway for two hours and talked with the doorman, waiting for Kistunov to return.
She came the next day too.
Defenseless creature read the story
Characters:
Mr. K. - Kistunov, a bank employee suffering from gout (a metabolic disease in the body, the inability to excrete uric acid).
The petitioner Shch. - Mrs. Shchukina, is quite stupid.
AN employee is an ordinary bank employee.
And also an accountant, other bank employees, a gentleman in military uniform.
The story takes place in one place, in a bank. Exhausted by an attack of illness, Mr. K. begins to receive visitors. It is very difficult for him to breathe, shortness of breath torments him.
The first petitioner worsens his health condition, since her request had nothing to do with the bank at all. The sick husband was not paid a certain amount in addition to his salary upon dismissal, explaining that he had taken such an amount from the mutual aid fund under the guarantee of his colleagues and did not return it. He worked in a military medical institution.
Trying to explain to petitioner Shch. Mr. K what this had to do with a commercial bank and her husband’s institution, that she had gone to the wrong place, he felt worse and worse, his heartbeat increased.
Petitioner Shch., not paying attention to the arguments, continued to complain about her fate: everything is on me, my husband is sick, my son-in-law is not settled.
The misunderstanding and stupidity of the petitioner led Mr. K. to dizziness. I had to turn to an NA employee to talk some sense into her. After this, having received all the visitors, Mr. K. noticed that the AN employee was still talking with the visitor. She still continued to complain about how defenseless, weak, and sick she was.
Soon the employee of the Academy of Sciences got tired of talking to her and handed her over to the accountant. At this time, Mr. K. could not find a place for himself, irritated by this woman. Call an NA employee to see you and find out how things are going; to which he offered to escort her out with the help of the doorman, but Mr. K. did not allow him, fearing that there would be noise and what people would think.
The AN employee went back to the petitioner, where he and the accountant took turns trying to explain to her that she needed to go to a completely different place. At this point the NA employee can no longer stand it and sends her out in a quiet voice. The petitioner began to scream, again press for pity, to be indignant.
Mr. K. could no longer stand it and came to them asking what was happening here.
The petitioner immediately rushed to him and, pointing to the AN employee, began to complain about her fate again. He couldn’t stand it anymore and asked her to leave too.
But she is back at it again when she receives the money that was not paid to her sick husband. She brought Mr. K. to the point where his hands were shaking and his eyes were already dazzled. After asking how much she needed, he took out his wallet and gave her his personal money. Having removed the money, she asks if her husband can enter the service again. What Mr. K. no longer had the strength to do... and he went home.
All the employees drank a sedative and went back to work. And the visitor talked with the doorman for a long time, waiting for Mr. K.
She came the next day...
The story depicts a stupid, stubborn man; trying to evoke pity for himself, but ready to get his way anyway.
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Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Defenseless creature
No matter how severe the attack of gout was at night, no matter how his nerves creaked afterwards, Kistunov still went to work in the morning and promptly began accepting applicants and clients of the bank. He looked languid, tortured, and he spoke barely, barely breathing, like a dying man.
What do you want? - he turned to the petitioner in an antediluvian cloak, very similar from behind to a large dung beetle.
If you please see, Your Excellency,” the petitioner began quickly, “my husband, collegiate assessor Shchukin, was ill for five months, and while he, excuse me, was lying at home and being treated, he was given his resignation for no reason, Your Excellency, and when I went for his salary, they, if you please see, deducted 24 rubles 36 kopecks from his salary! For what? - I ask. - “And he, they say, took from the comrade’s cash register and other officials vouched for him.” How so? What could he have taken without my consent? This is impossible, Your Excellency. Yes, why is this? I’m a poor woman, I just feed myself from the tenants... I’m weak, defenseless... I suffer insults from everyone and don’t hear a kind word from anyone...
The petitioner blinked her eyes and reached into her coat for a scarf. Kistunov took the petition from her and began to read.
Excuse me, how is this? - he shrugged his shoulders. - I don’t understand anything. Obviously, you, madam, are in the wrong place. Your request essentially does not apply to us at all. You will take the trouble to contact the department where your husband served.
And-and, father, I’ve already been to five places, and everywhere they didn’t even accept my petition! - said Shchukina. “I’ve already lost my head, but thank you, God bless my son-in-law Boris Matveich, he advised me to go see you.” “You, mother, he says, turn to Mr. Kistunov: he is an influential man, he can do everything for you”... Help, Your Excellency!
We, Mrs. Shchukina, cannot do anything for you... Understand: your husband, as far as I can judge, served in the military medical department, and our institution is completely private, commercial, we have a bank. How can one not understand this!
Kistunov shrugged his shoulders again and turned to the gentleman in military uniform, with flux.
Your Excellency,” Shchukina sang in a plaintive voice, “I have a doctor’s certificate that my husband was ill!” Here it is, if you please take a look!
“Fine, I believe you,” Kistunov said irritably, “but, I repeat, this does not apply to us.” Strange and even funny! Does your husband really not know where to turn?
He, Your Excellency, doesn’t know anything about me. Charged one: “None of your business! Get out!” and that's all... Whose business is it? After all, they are sitting on my neck! On my-she!
Kistunov turned to Shchukina again and began to explain to her the difference between a military medical department and a private bank. She listened to him carefully, nodded her head in agreement and said:
Yes, yes, yes... I understand, father. In that case, Your Excellency, order me to give you at least 15 rubles! I don't agree with everything at once.
Ugh! - Kistunov sighed, throwing his head back. - You can’t explain it! Please understand that turning to us with such a request is as strange as submitting a petition for divorce, for example, to a pharmacy or an assay office. You were underpaid, but what does that have to do with us?
“Your Excellency, make me pray to God forever, have pity on me, an orphan,” Shchukina began to cry. - I am a defenseless, weak woman... I was tortured to death... And I sue the tenants, and take care of my husband, and run around the house, and here I am fasting and my son-in-law is without a place... Only one glory is that I drink and eat, but I can barely stand on my feet ... I didn’t sleep all night.
Kistunov felt his heartbeat. Making a pained face and pressing his hand to his heart, he again began to explain to Shchukina, but his voice broke off...
No, sorry, I can’t talk to you,” he said and waved his hand. - I even felt dizzy. You're disturbing us too and you're wasting our time. Ugh!.. Alexey Nikolaich,” he turned to one of the employees, “please explain to Mrs. Shchukina!”
Kistunov, having bypassed all the petitioners, went to his office and signed a dozen papers, while Alexey Nikolaich was still busy with Shchukina. Sitting in his office, Kistunov heard two voices for a long time: the monotonous, restrained bass of Alexei Nikolaich and the crying, squealing voice of Shchukina...
“I am a defenseless, weak woman, I am a sickly woman,” said Shchukina. “I may look strong, but if you take it apart, there’s not a single healthy vein in me.” I can barely stand on my feet and have lost my appetite... I drank coffee today, and without any pleasure.
And Alexey Nikolaich explained to her the difference between departments and the complex system of sending papers. He soon grew tired and was replaced by an accountant.
Amazingly nasty woman! - Kistunov was indignant, nervously wringing his fingers and every now and then going up to the carafe of water. - It's an idiot, traffic jam! She tortured me and will come to visit them, the vile one! Phew... my heart is beating!
Half an hour later he called. Alexey Nikolaich appeared.
What do you have there? - Kistunov asked languidly.
There’s no way we can explain it, Pyotr Alexandrovich! Just tired. We tell her about Thomas, and she talks about Yerema...
Call the doorman, Pyotr Alexandrovich, let him take her out.
No no! - Kistunov was scared. “She’ll start screaming, and there are a lot of apartments in this building, and God knows what they might think about us... You, my dear, try to explain to her somehow.”
A minute later, Alexei Nikolaich’s buzzing sound was heard again. A quarter of an hour passed, and his bass was replaced by the hum of the accountant's hoarse tenor voice.
Remarkably vile! - Kistunov was indignant, shaking his shoulders nervously. - Stupid as a gray gelding, damn her. It seems my gout is on the rise again... Migraine again...
In the next room, Alexey Nikolaich, exhausted, finally tapped his finger on the table, then on his forehead.
In a word, it’s not your head on your shoulders,” he said, “but this is what...
Well, nothing, nothing... - the old woman was offended. - Knock on your wife... Well! Don't give your hands much free rein.
And, looking at her with anger, with frenzy, as if wanting to swallow her, Alexey Nikolaich said in a quiet, strangled voice:
Get out of here!
What-oh? - Shchukina suddenly squealed. - How dare you? I am a weak, defenseless woman, I won’t allow it! My husband is a collegiate assessor! What a well! I’ll go see lawyer Dmitry Karlych, so your title won’t be left! I sued three tenants, and for your impudent words you will fall at my feet! I'll go to your general! Your Excellency! Your Excellency!
Get out of here, you ulcer! - Alexey Nikolaich hissed.
The Russian writer (1860 - 1904) wrote the story “A Defenseless Creature” in 1887. First published in “Oskolki”, 1887, No. 9, (censored February 27), p. 4. Signed: A. Chekhonte.
Source: Complete collection of works and letters in 30 volumes (M.: Nauka, 1974-1983).
Story included to the collection:
Briefly: A petitioner came to the head of a commercial bank and complained that her husband was illegally fired from the military medical department. The woman constantly repeats: “I am weak, defenseless”...
No matter how severe the attack of gout was at night, no matter how his nerves creaked afterwards, Kistunov still went to work in the morning and promptly began accepting applicants and clients of the bank. He looked languid, tortured, and he spoke barely, barely breathing, like a dying man.
-What do you want? - he turned to the petitioner in an antediluvian cloak, very similar from behind to a large dung beetle.
“If you please to see, Your Excellency,” the petitioner began quickly, “my husband, collegiate assessor Shchukin, was ill for five months, and while he, excuse me, was lying at home and being treated, he was given his resignation for no reason, Your Excellency, and when I went to collect his salary, they, if you please see, deducted 24 rubles 36 kopecks from his salary! For what? - I ask. - “And he, they say, took from the comrade’s cash register and other officials vouched for him.” How so? What could he have taken without my consent? This is impossible, Your Excellency. Yes, why is this? I’m a poor woman, I just feed myself from the tenants... I’m weak, defenseless... I suffer insults from everyone and don’t hear a kind word from anyone...
The petitioner blinked her eyes and reached into her coat for a scarf. Kistunov took the petition from her and began to read.
- Excuse me, how is this? - he shrugged. - I don’t understand anything. Obviously, you, madam, are in the wrong place. Your request essentially does not apply to us at all. You will take the trouble to contact the department where your husband served.
“And-and, father, I’ve already been to five places, and everywhere they didn’t even accept a petition!” - said Shchukina. “I’ve already lost my head, but thank you, God bless my son-in-law Boris Matveich, he advised me to go see you.” “You, mother, he says, turn to Mr. Kistunov: he is an influential man, he can do anything for you.”... Help, Your Excellency!
“We, Mrs. Shchukina, cannot do anything for you... Understand: your husband, as far as I can judge, served in the military medical department, and our institution is completely private, commercial, we have a bank.” How can one not understand this!
Kistunov shrugged his shoulders again and turned to the gentleman in military uniform, with flux.
“Your Excellency,” Shchukina sang in a plaintive voice, “I have a doctor’s certificate that my husband was ill!” Here it is, if you please take a look!
“Fine, I believe you,” Kistunov said irritably, “but, I repeat, this does not apply to us.” Strange and even funny! Does your husband really not know where to turn?
“He, Your Excellency, doesn’t know anything about me.” Charged one: “None of your business! Get out!” and that's all... Whose business is it? After all, they are sitting on my neck! On my-she!
Kistunov turned to Shchukina again and began to explain to her the difference between a military medical department and a private bank. She listened to him carefully, nodded her head in agreement and said:
- Yes, yes, yes... I understand, father. In that case, Your Excellency, order me to give you at least 15 rubles! I don't agree with everything at once.
- Ugh! — Kistunov sighed, throwing his head back. - You can’t explain it! Please understand that turning to us with such a request is as strange as submitting a petition for divorce, for example, to a pharmacy or an assay office. You were underpaid, but what does that have to do with us?
“Your Excellency, make me pray to God forever, have pity on me, an orphan,” Shchukina cried. - I am a defenseless, weak woman... I was tortured to death... And I sue the tenants, and take care of my husband, and run around the house, and here I am fasting and my son-in-law is without a place... Only one glory is that I drink and eat, and I can barely stand on my feet... I didn’t sleep all night.
Kistunov felt his heartbeat. Making a pained face and pressing his hand to his heart, he again began to explain to Shchukina, but his voice broke off...
“No, sorry, I can’t talk to you,” he said and waved his hand. “I even felt dizzy.” You're disturbing us too and you're wasting our time. Ugh!.. Alexey Nikolaich,” he turned to one of the employees, “please explain to Mrs. Shchukina!”
Kistunov, having bypassed all the petitioners, went to his office and signed a dozen papers, while Alexey Nikolaich was still busy with Shchukina. Sitting in his office, Kistunov heard two voices for a long time: the monotonous, restrained bass of Alexei Nikolaich and the crying, squealing voice of Shchukina...
“I am a defenseless woman, weak, I am a sick woman,” said Shchukina. “I may look strong, but if you take it apart, there’s not a single healthy vein in me.” I can barely stand on my feet and have lost my appetite... I drank coffee today, and without any pleasure.
And Alexey Nikolaich explained to her the difference between departments and the complex system of sending papers. He soon grew tired and was replaced by an accountant.
- Amazingly nasty woman! - Kistunov was indignant, nervously wringing his fingers and every now and then going up to the carafe of water. - It's an idiot, traffic jam! She tortured me and will come to visit them, the vile one! Phew... my heart is beating!
Half an hour later he called. Alexey Nikolaich appeared.
- What do you have there? - Kistunov asked languidly.
- There’s no way we’ll explain it, Pyotr Alexandrovich! Just tired. We told her about Thomas, and she talked about Yerema...
- Call the doorman, Pyotr Alexandrovich, let him take her out.
- No no! - Kistunov was scared. “She’ll start screaming, and there are a lot of apartments in this building, and God knows what they might think about us... You, my dear, try to explain to her somehow.”
A minute later, Alexei Nikolaich’s buzzing sound was heard again. A quarter of an hour passed, and his bass was replaced by the hum of the accountant's hoarse tenor voice.
- Remarkably vile! — Kistunov was indignant, shaking his shoulders nervously. - Stupid as a gray gelding, damn her. It seems my gout is on the rise again... Migraine again...
In the next room, Alexey Nikolaich, exhausted, finally tapped his finger on the table, then on his forehead.
“In a word, you don’t have a head on your shoulders,” he said, “but here’s what...
“Well, nothing, nothing...” the old woman was offended. - Knock on your wife... Well! Don't give your hands much free rein.
And, looking at her with anger, with frenzy, as if wanting to swallow her, Alexey Nikolaich said in a quiet, strangled voice:
- Get out of here!
- Wha-oh? - Shchukina suddenly squealed. - How dare you? I am a weak, defenseless woman, I won’t allow it! My husband is a collegiate assessor! What a well! I’ll go see lawyer Dmitry Karlych, so your title won’t be left! I sued three tenants, and for your impudent words you will fall at my feet! I'll go to your general! Your Excellency! Your Excellency!
- Get out of here, you ulcer! - Alexey Nikolaich hissed.
Kistunov opened the door and looked out into the presence.
Shchukina, red as a lobster, stood in the middle of the room and, rolling her eyes, pointed her fingers in the air. The bank employees stood on both sides and, also red-faced, apparently tortured, looked at each other in confusion.
- Your Excellency! - Shchukina rushed to Kistunov. - This one, this one... this one... (she pointed to Alexei Nikolaich) tapped his finger on his forehead, and then on the table... You told him to sort out my case, but he mocks! I am a weak, defenseless woman... My husband is a collegiate assessor, and I myself am a major’s daughter!
“Okay, madam,” moaned Kistunov, “I’ll sort it out... I’ll take measures... Go away... after!..”
- When will I receive it, Your Excellency? I need money now!
Kistunov ran a trembling hand over his forehead, sighed and began to explain again:
- Madam, I already told you. Here is a bank, a private institution, a commercial one... What do you want from us? And really understand that you are disturbing us.
Shchukina listened to him and sighed.
“Yes, yes...” she agreed. “Only you, Your Excellency, do me a favor, make me pray to God forever, be my own father, protect me.” If the medical certificate is not enough, then I can present a certificate from the police station... Order the money to be given to me!
Kistunov’s eyes began to light up. He exhaled all the air he had in his lungs and sank into a chair, exhausted.
- How much do you want to get? - he asked in a weak voice.
- 24 rubles 36 kopecks.
Kistunov took his wallet out of his pocket, took out a quarter note and handed it to Shchukina.
- Take it... and leave!
Shchukina wrapped the money in a handkerchief, hid it and, wrinkling her face into a sweet, delicate, even flirtatious smile, asked:
“Your Excellency, is it possible for my husband to go back to work?”
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Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Defenseless creature
No matter how severe the attack of gout was at night, no matter how his nerves creaked afterwards, Kistunov still went to work in the morning and promptly began accepting applicants and clients of the bank. He looked languid, tortured, and he spoke barely, barely breathing, like a dying man.
-What do you want? - he turned to the petitioner in an antediluvian cloak, very similar from behind to a large dung beetle.
“If you please to see, Your Excellency,” the petitioner began quickly, “my husband, collegiate assessor Shchukin, was ill for five months, and while he, excuse me, was lying at home and being treated, he was given his resignation for no reason, Your Excellency, and when I went to collect his salary, they, if you please see, deducted 24 rubles 36 kopecks from his salary! For what? - I ask. - “And he, they say, took from the comrade’s cash register, and other officials vouched for him.” How so? What could he have taken without my consent? This is impossible, Your Excellency. Yes, why is this? I’m a poor woman, I just feed myself from the tenants... I’m weak, defenseless... I suffer insults from everyone and don’t hear a kind word from anyone...
The petitioner blinked her eyes and reached into her coat for a scarf. Kistunov took the petition from her and began to read.
- Excuse me, how is this? – he shrugged his shoulders. - I don’t understand anything. Obviously, you, madam, are in the wrong place. Your request essentially does not apply to us at all. You will take the trouble to contact the department where your husband served.
“And-and, father, I’ve already been to five places, and everywhere they didn’t even accept a petition!” - said Shchukina. “I’ve already lost my head, but thank you, God bless my son-in-law Boris Matveich, he advised me to go see you.” “You, mother, he says, turn to Mr. Kistunov: he is an influential man, he can do everything for you”... Help, Your Excellency!
“We, Mrs. Shchukina, cannot do anything for you... Understand: your husband, as far as I can judge, served in the military medical department, and our institution is completely private, commercial, we have a bank.” How can one not understand this!
Kistunov shrugged his shoulders again and turned to the gentleman in military uniform, with flux.
“Your Excellency,” Shchukina sang in a plaintive voice, “and I have a doctor’s certificate that my husband was ill!” Here it is, if you please take a look!
“Fine, I believe you,” Kistunov said irritably, “but, I repeat, this does not apply to us.” Strange and even funny! Does your husband really not know where to turn?
“He, Your Excellency, doesn’t know anything about me.” Charged one: “None of your business! Get out!” – and that’s all... But whose business is it? After all, they are sitting on my neck! On my-she!
Kistunov turned to Shchukina again and began to explain to her the difference between a military medical department and a private bank. She listened to him carefully, nodded her head in agreement and said:
- Yes, yes, yes... I understand, father. In that case, Your Excellency, order me to give you at least 15 rubles! I don't agree all at once.
- Ugh! – Kistunov sighed, throwing his head back. - You can’t explain it! Please understand that turning to us with such a request is as strange as submitting a petition for divorce, for example, to a pharmacy or an assay office. You were underpaid, but what does that have to do with us?
“Your Excellency, make me pray to God forever, have pity on me, an orphan,” Shchukina began to cry. “I am a defenseless, weak woman... I was tortured to death... And I sue the tenants, and take care of my husband, and run around the house, and here I am fasting and my son-in-law is without a place... Only one glory is that I drink and eat, but I myself can barely stand on my feet.” ... I didn’t sleep all night.
Kistunov felt his heartbeat. Making a pained face and pressing his hand to his heart, he again began to explain to Shchukina, but his voice broke off...
“No, sorry, I can’t talk to you,” he said and waved his hand. “I even felt dizzy.” You're disturbing us too, and you're wasting our time. Ugh!.. Alexey Nikolaich,” he turned to one of the employees, “please explain to Mrs. Shchukina!”
Kistunov, having bypassed all the petitioners, went to his office and signed a dozen papers, while Alexey Nikolaich was still busy with Shchukina. Sitting in his office, Kistunov heard two voices for a long time: the monotonous, restrained bass of Alexei Nikolaich and the crying, squealing voice of Shchukina...
“I am a defenseless, weak woman, I am a sickly woman,” said Shchukina. “I may look strong, but if you take it apart, there’s not a single healthy vein in me.” I can barely stand on my feet and have lost my appetite... I drank coffee today, and without any pleasure.
And Alexey Nikolaich explained to her the difference between departments and the complex system of sending papers. He soon grew tired and was replaced by an accountant.
- Amazingly nasty woman! – Kistunov was indignant, nervously wringing his fingers and every now and then going up to the carafe of water. - It's an idiot, traffic jam! She tortured me and will come to visit them, the vile one! Phew... my heart is beating!
Half an hour later he called. Alexey Nikolaich appeared.
-What do you have there? – Kistunov asked languidly.
- There’s no way we’ll explain it, Pyotr Alexandrovich! Just tired. We tell her about Thomas, and she talks about Yerema...
- Call the doorman, Pyotr Alexandrovich, let him take her out.
- No no! – Kistunov was scared. “She’ll start screaming, and there are a lot of apartments in this building, and God knows what they might think about us... You, my dear, try to explain to her somehow.”
A minute later, Alexei Nikolaich’s buzzing sound was heard again. A quarter of an hour passed, and his bass was replaced by the hum of the accountant's hoarse tenor voice.
- Remarkably vile! – Kistunov was indignant, shaking his shoulders nervously. “Stupid as a gray gelding, damn her.” It seems my gout is on the rise again... Migraine again...
In the next room, Alexey Nikolaich, exhausted, finally tapped his finger on the table, then on his forehead.
“In a word, you don’t have a head on your shoulders,” he said, “but here’s what...
“Well, nothing, nothing...” the old woman was offended. - Knock on your wife... Well! Don't give your hands much free rein.
And, looking at her with anger, with frenzy, as if wanting to swallow her, Alexey Nikolaich said in a quiet, strangled voice:
- Get out of here!
- What? – Shchukina suddenly squealed. - How dare you? I am a weak, defenseless woman, I won’t allow it! My husband is a collegiate assessor! What a well! I’ll go see lawyer Dmitry Karlych, so your title won’t be left! I sued three tenants, and for your impudent words you will fall at my feet! I'll go to your general! Your Excellency! Your Excellency!
- Get out of here, you ulcer! - Alexey Nikolaich hissed.
Kistunov opened the door and looked out into the presence.
Shchukina, red as a lobster, stood in the middle of the room and, rolling her eyes, pointed her fingers in the air. The bank employees stood on both sides and, also red-faced, apparently tortured, looked at each other in confusion.
– Your Excellency! – Shchukina rushed to Kistunov. - This one, this one... this one... (she pointed to Alexei Nikolaich) tapped his finger on his forehead, and then on the table... You told him to sort out my case, but he mocks! I am a weak, defenseless woman... My husband is a collegiate assessor, and I myself am a major’s daughter!
“Okay, madam,” moaned Kistunov, “I’ll sort it out... I’ll take measures... Go away... after!..”
– When will I receive it, Your Excellency? I need money now!
Kistunov ran a trembling hand over his forehead, sighed and began to explain again:
- Madam, I already told you. Here is a bank, a private institution, a commercial one... What do you want from us? And really understand that you are disturbing us.
Shchukina listened to him and sighed.
“Yes, yes...” she agreed. “Only you, Your Excellency, do me a favor, make me pray to God forever, be my own father, protect me.” If the medical certificate is not enough, then I can present a certificate from the police station... Order them to give me the money!
Kistunov’s eyes began to light up. He exhaled all the air he had in his lungs and sank into a chair, exhausted.
- How much do you want to get? – he asked in a weak voice.
– 24 rubles 36 kopecks.
Kistunov took his wallet out of his pocket, took out a quarter note and handed it to Shchukina.
- Take it... and leave!
Shchukina wrapped the money in a handkerchief, hid it and, wrinkling her face into a sweet, delicate, even flirtatious smile, asked:
“Your Excellency, is it possible for my husband to go back to work?”
“I’ll leave... I’m sick...” said Kistunov in a languid voice. – I have a terrible heartbeat.
After his departure, Alexey Nikolaich sent Nikita for cherry laurel drops, and everyone, taking 20 drops, sat down to work, and Shchukina then sat in the hallway for two hours and talked with the doorman, waiting for Kistunov to return.
She came the next day too.
